Daily life of an American TV drama agent

Ron originally thought that an arms dealer who had reached such a high status would be a little tougher than ordinary people, but it turned out that he was wrong. Dunning's reaction was even more unbearable than ordinary people.

Marvin just took out the scissors and made a gesture on his crotch. Before he could do anything, Dunning started struggling: "Stop! For the sake of God, stop!"

"It's really funny. An arms dealer who sells weapons everywhere and even personally encourages war still believes in God." Ron squatted in front of Dunning and mocked: "Don't you know, if God really exists? If so, will I definitely throw you into hell as soon as possible?"

Marvin continued to act, and the scissors had already cut open Dunning's pants.

"That's enough!" Dunning was so frightened that she shed tears: "I said anything. We picked up a young lieutenant at that time, who was the son of the late Senator James Stanton!"

"Robert Stanton?" Frank held Marvin's hand: "The current Vice President of the United States?"

"FXXK! We're in trouble now," Joe whispered.

Ron suddenly punched Dunning on the back of the head. How could Dunning, a bad old man, be able to withstand Ron's boxer? He immediately rolled his eyes and fainted.

After Ron carefully checked that Dunning had indeed passed out, he took off his helmet and threw it on the snow: "That's not necessarily the case. It might be a new turning point."

"A turning point? How is it possible? Robert is now the vice president! It was he who gave the order to hunt us down!" Frank complained uneasily.

"You have to understand, Frank, the higher a person stands, the more enemies he has. Maybe one of his enemies is willing to wipe our butt?"

Ron said meaningfully.

"No matter what you plan to do, we should withdraw now, boss" Joe urged as he glanced at his watch.

"Don't worry, don't we still have five minutes? It's enough for us to leave some memories for the respected Mr. Dunning." Once Ron's interest in pranks aroused, there was no stopping him. He took out a tattoo stick from the tool box. The tool was handed to Marvin: "Marvin, can you draw?"

Marvin was a little confused by Ron's sudden question, but he still nodded blankly.

"That's good, please continue to cut Mr. Dunning's pants and draw a cute elephant for him. Remember to make full use of the shape of the object itself, you know?"

In Washington, the capital, the famous Democratic congressman Francis Underwood is warming the stove in his home while thinking about his campaign plan for the next year.

His relationship with the current president has dropped to a freezing point, and he is planning to do something next year. Although it is unlikely that he will become the new president directly, there is still hope for positions such as secretary of state or vice president.

It's just that he still needs an opportunity, and just when he was thinking about how to create such an opportunity, his phone suddenly rang.

Francis frowned slightly, but relaxed when he saw Ron's name on the call.

"Ron, I guess you must have some good news to tell me, right?"

"That's right, BOSS." When it came to such a high-level political topic, Frank and the others consciously distanced themselves: "I have a big piece of dirty information about your competitor, Robert Stanton. Are you interested? "

"Tell me your conditions." Frank got straight to the point.

"I'm going to cause something at Robert Stanton's fundraiser, and I need someone to help me infiltrate their security system. Also, if I accidentally make things too big..."

"I can also guarantee that nothing will happen to you." Francis didn't wait for Ron to finish speaking, and took over the topic: "But the premise is that I need to know whether it is worth it to help you do this, or, in other words, What kind of benefits can I get?”

The essence of politics is the exchange of interests, which is clearly reflected in the conversation between Ron and Francis at this moment.

"How about a notorious vice president and a bunch of hapless arms dealers? But I want their taxing powers. After all, I still have a lot of subordinates to support."

"No problem," Francis agreed neatly: "Keep working hard, Ron, I value you very much. Goodbye, I'm waiting for your good news."

Francis maintained a steady voice, and as soon as he hung up the phone, he excitedly shook his fist in the living room in celebration.

"How's it going? Boss? Have you found your helper?" As soon as Ron hung up the phone, Joe asked with concern, and Frank and Marvin also came over.

"Everything is done, the next stop is Chicago, but this time, we don't have to be so cautious anymore, and we can even find a few more partners to go with us."

With Francis's help, Ron immediately started to do it with great fanfare.

…

Chicago is a city famous for its NBA basketball team, but for locals, it is more famous than the Bulls for the local gangs and the mayor's surname, which has almost never changed since the founding of the country.

This city was once prosperous, and although it cannot be said to be in decline now, it seems a bit ridiculous compared to other cities that were once glorious at the time.

Drugs and crime are gradually becoming the city's new signatures.

Therefore, when two globally limited-edition supercars drove into a hidden street in the center of the city, they inevitably aroused the eyes of nearby houses.

Some people had even dug out the guns hidden in their homes, but before they could take any further action, the roar of several high-horsepower engines could be heard on the road.

Several cars drove into this remote road that usually no one cares about. The men and women who got out of the cars were all fully armed, and they were not easy to mess with at first sight.

This group of hospitable Illinois residents immediately turned off and prepared a welcome party for new friends.

"You were also called here by Ron? Oh my god, I get angry when I see your face. Can you do some plastic surgery to make yourself look less annoying?"

A bald black man stepped out of the first supercar. It was Roman. He came to Arthur and started beeping.

Arthur's face looks too much like a certain terrorist who made him suffer. It's no wonder that he has such thoughts, but Arthur is not used to his bad habits: "Or, I can also Take your eyeballs out and stuff them into your anus, so you won't find anything disgusting when you look at them."

"Hey! Do you want Uncle Roman to teach you a lesson? You're a weakling from England?" Roman raised his fist and bluffed, "Believe it or not, a group of us will beat you to death?"