The world of American TV series: Starting with the L.A. Patrol.

Although Europe and the United States do not have the famous saying of Mencius "Born in adversity, die in comfort", the concept of establishing a powerful foreign enemy to divert internal conflicts does exist.

Ever since the suicide collapse of the Red Empire, the living conditions of ordinary people in Europe and the United States have been deteriorating.

Don't be fooled by the fact that Americans call themselves a beacon. But when that red lighthouse collapses, in just a few decades, the wonderful life in which a family only needed one blue-collar worker to support a family of four or five plus two dogs and could go on vacation every year has completely disappeared.

So the Russians tragically discovered that even if they took the initiative to abandon ideology, they still could not join the European and American family they longed for.

After being processed by the propaganda machine, all problems will ultimately be attributed to the evil giant bear.

Of course, after the new century, with the rise of a certain great power in the East, similar propaganda tone began to change, and Mao could only continue to play the villain in film and television dramas.

After all, it doesn't matter if you talk nonsense every day, and the Seres generally won't see anything no matter how the news writes it, but if it is made into a movie, it will really lose the huge box office with a population of more than one billion.

Jack didn't have the usual stereotype of Americans, but the fact that he, an FBI agent, followed a retired CIA officer to visit the Russian Embassy inevitably made him feel a little nervous.

After all, the Russians might not necessarily do anything to him, but if the bureau finds out, he would have no choice but to retire early and become the CEO of a privately held company with assets worth billions of dollars.

Compared to Jack, Frank was much calmer. He walked to the door, faced the surveillance camera, and pressed the call button on the electronic doorbell as if he was just visiting.

"Inform Ivan Shimanov that Frank Moses is visiting."

There was almost no waiting time before the door opened automatically with a click. As soon as the two men pushed the door open one after the other, a group of Russian soldiers holding AKs surrounded the hallway.

As the black hoods were put on their heads, Frank and Jack were pushed and shoved and taken underground.

"There's not even a glass of water. It looks like they don't treat you as a guest." When there was no one around, Jack took off his black hood himself.

This place doesn't look like an interrogation room, but more like an underground warehouse with a makeshift table and three chairs. It is too spacious, and even if you speak softly, there is an echo.

Although he teased Frank, in fact, this treatment had exceeded his expectations. Not only did they not even put handcuffs on the two men, they didn't even search them seriously and their attitude was very kind.

Frank didn't answer, but looked at the metal staircase they had just walked down. A slightly bloated figure was staggering down the steps.

"To tell you the truth, I am quite surprised by your visit, Frank Moses."

Along with the figure, the other person's English with the unique Russian tongue-twisting sound appeared, which gradually became clear under the dim fluorescent light.

"I can't remember how many times I've killed you with my own hands in my dreams." An old man with hair as thick as a beard, wearing a purple patterned suit, sat down opposite the two of them and showed a small switchblade in his hand in a pretentious manner.

“But now,” with a smile of successful mischief on his face, the fat old man took out a bottle of vodka from the drawer and put it on the table, “you are actually a pensioner too.”

"I've been retired for several years, and I have to admit that you beat me, Ivan, at least in this regard." Frank's cheeks twitched, making the lines on his cheeks more obvious.

Ivan Shimanov happily cut the seal of the wine bottle with a knife, then took out two wine glasses from the drawer. He glanced at Jack next to him, thought for a moment, and took out the third glass.

"Time really flies. The older I get, the less I see things. So who is this young man? Your student?"

Frank pushed the first full glass of wine to Jack, "This is Jack, my partner for now. He is not the same as us. Have you heard of David Rossi?

That's his teacher. If you get murdered someday, you can ask him for help. He will definitely be able to find the real murderer."

"FBI's Behavioral Analysis Division?" Ivan Shimanov curled his lips in disdain. "I can't believe you Americans are still using dogs and whistles to find criminals."

Ah, is the Russians' understanding of psychology still stuck in the Pavlov era? It's really a stereotype.

The protagonist at the moment is Frank. Jack did not explain or make any rebuttal, but chose to continue watching the two people "reminiscing about the past".

As the three glasses were filled one by one, Ivan Shimanov looked at Frank with a gradually more dangerous look, "The first glass of wine is for Igor, who you killed."

"Are you talking about the executioner Igor?" Frank raised his eyebrows, as if he didn't understand why he mentioned this name.

"He's a great assassin," Ivan said through gritted teeth.

"He's a fool too." Frank remained expressionless.

Ivan's eyes were slightly red, and he emphasized again, "He is my cousin."

Frank was stunned and hesitated for a moment, his hand holding the glass stopped in mid-air, "I'm sorry about this."

Ivan raised his glass and clinked it with him. Although he had a smile on his face, his eyes were extremely dangerous. "So, cheers to Igor, the executioner."

There is no mistake in the poem, post, content, and read the book on 6, 9, and bar!

The two men clinked their glasses, and before Frank drank the wine, he said calmly, "But he's not dead?"

Ivan, who was almost choked, put down his glass and looked at Frank in disbelief. He continued to say calmly, "I let him go."

"How is this possible?" Ivan was so shocked that he almost jumped up.

"He now runs a convenience store in Orange County, and he weighs nearly 500 pounds now."

"Oh!" Ivan exclaimed, then covered his mouth and burst into uncontrollable laughter. Frank couldn't help laughing too.

Jack, who was standing by, was puzzled. Perhaps only the old people who had lived through that era with them could understand the mutual respect that was slowly built up in the life-and-death struggle.

Ivan clapped his hands excitedly, picked up the bottle and refilled the glasses in front of the two men, then raised his eyebrows at Frank jokingly, "Go on."

"Who is this for?" Frank drank at least three taels of Red Label Vodka in one gulp, and sweat broke out on his bald head.

The tense atmosphere between the two of them at this moment had disappeared, and it was as if they were two old friends who had not seen each other for many years.

"For my two lovely daughters, Natasha and Talia." Ivan took out two photos from his chest pocket and placed them on the table with a doting look on his face.

"Crack!" The chair under Jack's butt made a harsh friction sound, attracting the attention of the two old guys.