Reborn American Giants

The high-pitched sound could be heard clearly even in a closed carriage, and as they got closer, the crowd seemed even more excited.

Through the front window of the car, Mendieta could clearly see that the local police who had formed a human wall were like small boats floating in the strong wind and waves under the impact of the protesters, teetering on the edge and in danger of capsizing at any time.

.

Mendieta couldn't let them stop the car, this was Mendieta's only idea.

These protesters may be obedient and honest people on weekdays, but once they gather together and are in a collective environment with the same situation, some of them suddenly become bolder.

Moreover, their emotions have been aroused by those slogans. If someone suddenly becomes passionate and takes the lead in action at this time, God knows what will happen.

"Rush over, hurry up," Mendieta leaned up and patted the driver on the shoulder.

But just as he finished speaking, the driver stepped on the brake. Jose, who had his eyes closed, lost his seat and bumped into the front seat. The photos on his lap were scattered all over the floor.

He opened his eyes, and before he had time to blame the driver and ask for an explanation, he discovered the reason why he was so embarrassed. The protesters had already broken through the police's obstruction and formed a circle in front of his car.

His wildest nightmares weren't as scary as the scene before him!

The presidential car was blocked at the intersection of Omat Street and the Balan slum, and was surrounded by a group of excited protesters.

Fermín Palacios, the head of the Presidential Secret Service, sweating profusely, commanded all the available manpower in his hands, intending to squeeze through the crowd and "rescue" the President.

However, he found that even with the manpower of the local police station, his attempt might be in vain.

The protesters were densely packed, huddled around the presidential car. Through the shaking heads, he could only see the roof of President Jose's car. The short distance of about ten meters had undoubtedly become a

Tianqi, he could only communicate with the team members on the presidential car through the intercom, asking the team members to lock the windows and never let the president get out of the car.

These protesters were shouting angry slogans. Mendieta had responsibly summoned three television crews and a large number of other media reporters, and then placed them in the administrative area set up on Omart Street.

An ideal shooting location.

When President Jose's special car arrived and was suddenly surrounded by protesters, every angry word and action of these protesters was recorded by cameras.

The crowd surrounded the presidential limousine and chanted slogans for a long time, but received no response.

The president they elected was so stingy that he would not even roll down the car window. This undoubtedly made these ordinary people who are accustomed to swallowing their anger in the face of the hardships of life even more angry.

So I don't know who took the lead. They kicked the car body, which was so smooth that it could have a human face printed on it, and beat the roof.

A few seconds later, an antenna at the rear of the car was nowhere to be found, and the wiper blades on the windshield were ripped off.

The driver's reaction was quite fast. He pressed the emergency button on the presidential car as soon as the crowd gathered around him. Then the car windows automatically closed and the doors were locked tightly.

The quality of the Cadillac bulletproof sedan can block the crazy crowd outside.

But before that, someone had successfully spit on Mendieta's face, but he didn't bother to take out a tissue from his arms and wipe it first. Instead, he immediately turned his head and watched the president's movements.

There were clenched fists pressed against the car window glass, and distorted faces appeared before Jose's eyes like a ghost, as if they would tear him into pieces as soon as he got out.

The car kept vibrating and shaking, the crowd kept pushing and shoving, and the loud slogans echoed in his ears through the bulletproof glass, making it impossible for him to calmly think about countermeasures. They seemed to be suffocating the car to death like this.

It also suffocated him to death.

Jose had encountered this kind of "situation" before during the election, but the difference from now was that those were fanatical "enthusiasms" that supported him, so he was able to deal with it with ease and felt deeply happy.

and proud.

Instead of being like this now, where he couldn't see the sky and trees outside, no one around him could help him, and there was nothing but hostility.

As a result, Mendieta's worries arose, and a certain emotion in Jose's heart collapsed. What happened these days had already caused him to bear a lot of pressure that was already unbearable.

The humiliation suffered by Party Chairman Embrioni during the rainy night at the last disaster relief site made this point even more serious.

Therefore, the president's original statesmanlike demeanor of knowing all his wisdom and taking time to take care of things no longer exists.

"Get out, get out," he screamed.

But the driver raised his hands helplessly, indicating that there was nothing he could do. The crowd surrounded the car, and there was no possibility of retreat.

"Get out," he continued to scream.

The ferocious faces outside drove him crazy, and he felt that he had difficulty even breathing. If Jose's royal doctor, Valentin Paniagua, were here, he would quickly diagnose this as a typical case of cabin fever.

symptom.

It was a pity that he was not here and could not provide the president with the help he deserved. So in despair, Jose completely lost his judgment and was left with only the wrong escape instinct.

He leaned forward desperately, reached out his hand, grabbed the automatic transmission lever, and pushed it in the opposite direction.

Then the engine roared and the driver hurriedly stepped on the brakes.

The car moved less than half a meter, but it was already too late.

The car drove into the crowd, knocking over wheelchairs. A young woman wearing a striped hospital gown fell to the ground, looking very painful.

The crowd dispersed for a distance as if frightened. The driver seized the opportunity, drove the car onto the curb in reverse, made a wonderful handbrake turn, and then ran away quickly.

The presidential car sped away, leaving two black tire tracks on the road, like two shocking scars.

In the car, Mendieta quickly put away his panic and realized immediately that what had just happened had completely left President Jose's political career on this road just like those two ugly tire tracks.

On the road of Omart Street.

However, President Jose and Mendieta left unable to see what happened next.

Morales directed several of his henchmen to quickly carry away the woman who was hit by the car in full view of the public.

No one knew that there was no one in the wheelchair just now, that the woman was not seriously injured, and that she was not even a real "protester."

Her true identity is a full-time union "convener".

She's an expert at taking a small incident and turning it into a front-page story.

But none of this is important now, no one will come to trace all this. Before Morales left, he turned back to glance at the excited media reporters, and his face curled up slightly.

They already had the information, and he completed the task assigned to him by the "big man" perfectly, and even exceeded it. It was not too light, but it was not too hard, but it was just right, just right.

He looks forward to the reward he is about to receive.