Taxes are only within machine gun range!

Chapter 117 Milton's Infinite Creativity
"..."

Brandon and Flora were momentarily speechless.

He truly deserves the title of "Hell Tax Collector." Upon hearing that so many people were coming to beat him, his first reaction was neither panic nor calmly issuing tactical orders; instead, he thought of money first.

Flora rubbed her forehead: "Boss, these desperados don't have much money. The most valuable thing they have is probably their guns... Are you planning to sell them arms?"

Brandon nodded in agreement: "Even if they sell the guns, those old, broken guns they have probably aren't worth much."

"Even if we capture them alive, it will be very difficult to extract their savings..."

Milton glanced at the two men and said with a hint of exasperation, "Who said I was going to sell weapons? Who said they weren't worth anything? Flora, no wonder you managed to bankrupt the company despite such a good start. You really have no business sense."

Flora was a little defensive, and she gritted her teeth and slammed her fist on the table: "Then tell me, Mr. Great 'Godfather,' how are you going to squeeze money out of them?"

“You two are still too kind,” Milton sighed. “Have you forgotten what kind of business Lopez and his crew are running?”

Flora was still not quite there when she asked, "What business? Poison?"

“They’re people, living and dead.” Milton glanced at Brandon. “Don’t forget, people are a resource, especially for a large criminal organization like this.”

"Whether it's using the pretext of exporting corpses to smuggle drugs, selling them to hospitals, or simply satisfying the personal fetishes of those lunatics... 'Humans' themselves are very valuable."

Flora and Brandon were stunned by Milton's words.

How dare you call someone crazy?
After thinking for a long time, Flora asked in a low, shocked voice, her previous defiance completely gone, "Boss, you mean, kill or capture these people who came to attack us, and then sell them to Lopez's people?!"

“Capturing them alive is out of the question,” Milton corrected. “I’m not going to send my enemies out alive and give them a chance to retaliate. Do you think I’m one of those villains in the movies?”

“No, I think you’re more terrifying than the villains in the movies,” Flora retorted immediately. “I’ve seen so many movies, and the villains are at most a little brutal, or at most have some ideals that are not understood by others… You’re different, you really are different, you’re so creative.”

“Since I started working for you, every operation you've carried out has been incredibly creative. I really never imagined you could do something like this. Holy crap, the enemy uses a bounty to lure gangsters to attack you, and you just kidnap the gangsters and sell them back to the enemy, right? What kind of supply chain is this?”

"If Lopez knew about this, he'd probably be so angry with you that he'd lose 10 years of his life..."

Milton maintained his calm demeanor: "To deal with bad people, you have to use their methods... Do you know why so many people failed before? Because they were restricted by the rules."

"The only way to deal with an unscrupulous enemy is to also be unscrupulous."

Brandon thought about the "boss's" grave and had no objection to the plan. He nodded and said, "Boss, how are we going to sell it? Do we have any channels?"

Milton glanced in the direction of the old street: "I may not have connections, but don't the black market people on the old street have them too?"

"The black market is gradually moving towards legalization, but that doesn't mean the channels these people have have disappeared."

Brandon nodded: "I'll call 'Ghost Wolf' right now. Arms dealers always have the best connections and information."

Furthermore, Ghost Wolf's gun shop also has a telephone number, making it convenient to contact them.

“‘Ghost Wolf’ is coming to the police station. Mr. ‘Godfather’ wants to see you.”

After giving the notification, Brandon turned around and nodded: "Boss, 'Ghost Wolf' will be here in about 10 minutes."

“Alright, let’s continue. How are we going to deal with these 15 to 25 enemies?” Milton said. “After all, they’ll be our products soon, so we can’t break them too much or burn them too much.”

If it's too badly damaged, it probably won't fetch a good price.

Flora never imagined she would one day be involved in such a discussion. She laughed and shook her head: "The best thing to do is to find a way to make them surrender, capture them, and then 'harmlessly execute' them."

"The second best option is execution by firing squad, which would cause less damage to the body tissue."

"But if unexpected situations arise, I think we should not be overconfident and should eliminate the enemy if necessary."

Milton nodded: "Of course, we need to secure victory first, then we can talk about anything else."

"So, let our air force go reconnaissance first, and also conduct air suppression, then our armored vehicles..."

Milton nodded: "Let the self-propelled anti-aircraft guns go, and remember to equip them with reactive armor. I'm worried they might have RPGs."

Flora spoke up, saying, "Reactive armor isn't invincible. What if the enemy has tandem armor-piercing warheads?"

Milton wasn't worried at all: "The tandem armor-piercing warhead is too heavy, it can't go far or hit accurately... We won't let the armored vehicles engage them in close combat. At a distance of 300 meters, they'll never be able to hit us in their lifetime."

"You can't exactly say they have missiles too, can you? If they did, why would they be making a bounty? Don't worry, company owners like you who can bankrupt themselves even with 'javelin' weapons are definitely not the majority in this world."

Flora rolled her eyes: "I don't want to talk to you anymore."

Brandon said, "So, is that how it's arranged?"

“Remember to bring another slave wagon, no, a transport wagon,” Milton added. “There are so many people; we need to bring them back, or take them to where the buyers need them.”

"it is good!"

While they were discussing how to seize the shipment, "Ghost Wolf" walked in from outside, led by two police officers.

"Ghost Wolf" was carrying two bottles of wine, and his smile was extremely bright.

"Sirs, sirs! It's been a long time! Come, come, this is some good wine I got from Matteo!"

Milton looked at the familiar bottles of liquor in "Ghost Wolf's" hand and took a deep breath: "Is it possible that I sold these liquors to Matteo?"

During the last raid on the bar, apart from the very expensive liquors that were stored away, Milton simply sold the remaining liquor at a discount to Matteo's bar so that he could slowly unload it himself.

This way, everyone can make a profit.

Ghost Wolf was dumbfounded: "Huh?!"

"Alright, alright, I don't have that kind of gift-giving tradition here. Just take it back and drink it yourself," Milton said dismissively. "I called you over because I have something to ask you."

Ghost Wolf's eyes lit up: "'Godfather' Mr., are you thinking of purchasing equipment for the police station? I just received a batch of top-quality goods, absolutely top-quality goods! MK-19, grenade launcher, you may not know what this is, let me introduce it!"

“No need for introduction, I know what this is.” Milton waved his hand. “An automatic grenade launcher with a rate of fire of over 350 rounds per minute and an effective range of 2000 meters.”

If you don't understand what this firepower means, let's compare it to another grenade launcher, the M203, which Milton and Flora are using—Milton recently used the M203 to fire three grenades and destroy a police car. While the MK19 is heavy and requires two people to operate, its firepower is so great that a single shot can turn an area within a hundred meters into an inferno!
This effectively compensates for the minor drawback of Milton's team not being very efficient at killing infantry.

"Keep the weapons for me, I don't have the money right now," Milton said slowly. "I'll go out and earn some money, and buy them when I get back."

"Huh?!" Ghost Wolf was a little confused. "How do you want to make money?"

“That’s why I came to find you,” Milton said, looking at him. “With all your past business dealings on the black market, did you have any connections for smuggling organs and human bodies?”

"Yes, they all ran away or died, uh, killed by you."

Milton shook his head and asked, "I'm not here to check their taxes, I'm here to sell them something."

"what?!"

Ghost Wolf was also shocked. Could it be that the "Hell Tax Collector" was also doing this kind of business?

“Don’t look at me like that.” Milton squinted. “There’s a group of people coming to attack the town. I need a way to make use of these people, otherwise burying them on the spot would be a waste.”

It took Ghost Wolf a while to figure out what Milton was talking about, and he immediately looked at him with the eyes of someone looking at a madman.

After a long pause, he nodded and said, "Well, I'll help you make some contact... But I'll have to go through several layers of disguise. You know, nobody dares to take this kind of job in our town right now. Shall we contact each other by phone?"

Brandon was a little worried: "We must find a more reliable channel."

"Director, don't worry, we're old friends. Don't you trust me to handle things?"

“These black market networks are incredibly chaotic, with far fewer rigorous vetting processes than you might imagine. The hardest part is actually finding the channels,” Milton said. “Don’t think these criminal groups are a bunch of elites in suits, discussing meticulous tactics in conference rooms, with all sorts of strict procedures.”

"Let me tell you, they even managed to write the wrong address and send their drug-smuggling ship directly to the port of a major anti-drug country... In the end, they were all caught."

"Believe me, truly intelligent people wouldn't do something like this."

"..."

After Milton finished speaking, he stood up, took out his Type 81 rifle from his equipment cabinet, and put on his heavy bulletproof vest.

"Let's go, let's make money!"

Soon, the three men, along with several police officers, got into a car and arrived at the checkpoint.

From the checkpoint's armory, a self-propelled anti-aircraft gun, modified from an LAV-25 chassis, was driven out.

Flora tapped the armor plate and asked, "How exactly does it work?"

Milton replied without hesitation, "Do as you please, but I want to use the gun emplacements. I have a dream: to lay anti-aircraft guns flat and use them to shoot people."

Two 40mm machine guns for shooting people, it's incredibly satisfying.

Flora reminded her, "Don't forget, you're supposed to be a whole corpse. The anti-aircraft guns are just for scaring people; if they actually hit, you won't make any money."

"Too……"

"Let's go, let's get going!"

……

Meanwhile, on the road from Malacan to Tapachula, Mexico, the Mexicans who had previously delivered goods to the town were whistling and stepping on the gas, hauling back some scrap metal.

His business involves transporting food, daily necessities, and other goods from Mexico to the town, and then transporting scrap metal from the town back to Mexico.

"We really made a lot of money this time," the Mexican exclaimed. "We'll have to come back more often!"

"I hope this stationmaster named Milton can stay in office for a while longer. With him around, the trade here will definitely become more and more prosperous. He's much better than that beast Vartan."

The Mexican hummed a little tune as he took a bite of his taco.

beep...

Just then, he saw several things that looked like helicopters flying overhead through the windshield.

He froze for a moment, his eyes widening: "Are these...are these helicopters? Why are there so many helicopters? What happened?"

While he was still in shock, a muffled horn sounded from the back of the truck.

"Someone's trying to overtake?" The Mexican ignored the "helicopter" that had nothing to do with him, glanced at the rearview mirror, and decided to make way.

His truck was carrying a heavy load of goods, and the road wasn't very smooth, so he didn't dare drive too fast.

Then, in his rearview mirror, he saw a camouflage behemoth covered in thick armor plating, with eight wheels and a terrifying engine roar that far surpassed his truck.

What's most frightening is that the two 40mm autocannons on top of this armored vehicle are still "looking around".

Wouldn't he be covered in bruises after that?!
The Mexican was quite frightened and quickly slowed down, pulling his car close to the side of the road to make room for the armored vehicle behind him.

He even got out of the car in a panic, fearing that the armored vehicle was there to find him.

Seeing that the armored vehicle wasn't coming for him, the Mexican breathed a sigh of relief, but also felt a bit puzzled. So he waved his hand and said, "Sir, sirs!"

The LAV-25 stopped a short distance away, and a fully armed police officer jumped out, cautiously asking, "What do you want? Stand there and say it."

"Um, I wanted to ask, is the road ahead going to be blocked? If it is, should I go back to town and wait there?"

The officer shook his head: "There's no blockade. Go about your business as usual. We're here to protect the safety of this trade route."

Should armored vehicles be sent to protect the trade route?

Even those helicopters that just flew overhead were carrying out the same mission?!

While the Mexican was shocked, he suddenly felt an indescribable sense of security—doing business with the town would not only bring him considerable profits on paper, but he wouldn't even have to worry about the risk of being robbed!
Look at those cannons that keep turning around, who dares to glare at them?
"Oh, okay! Sir, you're busy, you're busy, I won't bother you any longer!" The Mexican quickly waved enthusiastically, "Next time I come to town, I'll bring you some tequila! That stuff is our pride and joy!"

(End of this chapter)