"Bugler, take your position!"
"Coordinates: 40°N, 75°W!"
On April 18th, precisely 30 hours after Tijuana was struck by missiles, the Northern Army suddenly began a live broadcast.
It was from a spacious launch control center, where dozens of technicians could be seen working inside, and the largest screen displayed a dozen missile trucks lined up across the desert.
Soldiers were taking their positions!
On the missiles, there was a skull with feathers, staring with hollow eyes, looking very empty and somewhat terrifying.
Those familiar with this style knew that this was Tezcatlipoca, one of the most important deities in Aztec mythology, representing war.
And on the missile heads, in Spanish, was written: Baja la cabeza!
Translated, it meant: Bow down!
This was the name for the new Mexican missile, "Sonora State Arsenal," which was derived from reverse engineering the BGM-109 cruise missile; with a 500 kg warhead, it wasn't as fast as the original product, nor as accurate, but...
Its power was enormous!
One shot, and you're dead, damn it!
Today, let the potential customers in Africa see just how badass my missiles are!
And the coordinates reported on TV were those of Washington!
In the streets of Tijuana, the malls of US San Diego City, the KTVs of the Southern Drug Dealer Alliance, and even the "Third Sister-in-law" in the desert all looked up in terror.
Prayers of tension filled the air.
Nobody knew the power of the Mexican missiles, but they sure looked big!
Some were even scared to tears.
Of course, there were also those who watched enviously, the ambitious ones waiting for this opportunity; if things went boom, they'd swoop in for the spoils!
At the scene, Lieutenant Colonel Rudendorf, the acting Chief of Staff, also had trembling lips; if this missile were launched, North America would be dragged into a vortex again!
The soldier beside him nodded firmly, about to relay the order to the front-line troops when a major burst in, "Wait!"
Rudendorf hurriedly called out, "Wait!"
"The Governor's Mansion orders, suspend the launch!"
"All units, be on alert, do not leave your positions, keep the missile trucks running, maintain positions, and await further orders."
Hearing the command in the live broadcast was like being on a roller coaster; the heart that jumped to the throat suddenly stopped with a jolt!
Such stimulation was almost enough to make one lose control.
In the Governor's Mansion at that moment.
It wasn't as tense as one might imagine.
Vic was polishing his personal "ashtray," which actually had its chip fixed with gold and had a few diamonds set inside, making it look quite luxurious.
He put his feet up on the table.
And in front of him was a red telephone, on speakerphone.
"Vic, you should know that our willingness to sit down and talk represents our sincerity," said James Dan Quayle, the acting President of the United States, calling him personally.
He hoped to prevent further conflict between the two parties, thus securing votes for the upcoming election.
Vic raised an eyebrow when he heard this, "Sincerity? Bullshit! You tell me it's 'accidentally shot,' don't pretend I don't know who did it, Raytheon Company and that what's-its-name consortium family, do you think my head is fitted with the same night-pot as yours?"
James Dan Quayle: ???
He was somewhat baffled, how did he know?!
Actually, when he learned that Raytheon and the Texas Consortium's Klang Family were behind it, he was a bit angry, but soon...
The Military Industrial Complex taught him a lesson.
You can be mad, but you have to keep it to yourself!
You're here to generate orders for everyone; your main task is to make money. What now, you even want to rebel?
For the sake of his future, he could only claim a "mistake in shooting" by their military.
James Dan Quayle's eyes flashed with panic.
A president who couldn't bring wealth to them all stepped down; if they had any other ambitions, they could wait for death.
Like the Fed, although it's not controlled by the Anglos but by the Judas financial family, the last President of the United States who tried to intervene in the Fed's independence was John Kennedy, who had already been assassinated in a convertible. Especially since in the subsequent investigation, 18 key witnesses died inexplicably within three years.
Two kinds of people control American capital, Judas and Anglo; the former control finance, the latter the military!
He didn't understand how Victor knew this secret.
"I will slaughter them! Tell the top management at Raytheon to watch their backs, or else, there could be bombs in their residential areas, in the cars they drive, or even on the women they play with," threatened Vic, his words sharp and menacing.
James Dan Quayle swallowed hard; he wanted to be like Kennedy in resolving the Cuban Missile Crisis, but clearly, he didn't have the capability, did he?
His cards all laid out, he was somewhat at a loss.
Finally, when he spoke, he even seemed somewhat bewildered, "So... what do you want?"
"What do I want! Fuck! Just because you lot has nuclear weapons, you think you can bully others as you please? I'm tired of your meddling in our drug prohibition; last time you even sent Special Forces to behead me, without a single apology, fuck off!" Vic was enraged, adding colorful language.
On the other side, James Dan Quayle was left reeling.
Who has ever encountered such a person?
Even if people got into private fights, on the surface, at least the most basic civility was maintained, handshakes or small talk.
Who would start off by cursing someone's mother like Vic did?