Taxes are only within machine gun range!

Chapter 158 The person who wronged you knows better than you how wronged you are.

boom! ! !
The second explosion of a high-yield aerial bomb today was so loud that the sound reached the police station.

Two terrifying explosions, the blast clouds of which looked like tactical nuclear bombs, have left the streets unusually quiet today.

This also signifies the destruction of Tapachula TV—rebuilding it wouldn't be difficult, but at least for now, with the crackdown underway, they can no longer broadcast.

Milton concealed himself and glanced at the view outside the window.

The crackdown is nearing its end; most of the rioters are either dead or lying in bed, and very few people managed to escape intact from the entire march.

“Aurelia, you can get to work.” Milton instructed without turning around, “Get our television stations up and running, let the whole world see just how heinous this terrorist attack orchestrated by the Gulf Cartel truly is. We must make everyone who sees these images feel a deep-seated hatred for the drug cartel!”

"After the news is edited, we also try to send it to some neutral media outlets so that they can help spread the word."

Malacan TV's influence is ultimately limited.

Looking a little disheveled, Olya, who had just returned from outside, nodded and said, "No problem... cough cough! Our reporters captured a lot of very valuable footage."

"For example?" Milton was now a little curious. "What did you film?"

"As for the video footage, we captured various extreme statements made by the protesters and their proactive attacks on the police station."

"Similarly, there are many photos—images of police officers being shot and falling to the ground, images of police stations exploding. With a little editing, you can say whatever you want."

Milton nodded in satisfaction: "Yes, for example, I can publish only the photos of them fighting back against the police; I can portray their act of boarding the bus and running away as a bus robbery and taking civilians hostage, and depict the whole thing as a one-sided atrocity by terrorists."

"As long as the photos are real, I will say whatever I want."

“Yes, cough.” Olya coughed forcefully. “And a reporter even managed to capture a very, very important photo.”

"Very important," this Soviet journalist rarely said such a thing...

Milton asked with great interest, "What photo?"

“A reporter found a spot near the TV station and waited there, hoping to get some firsthand footage, and he actually did.” Olya tapped her camera with a sigh. “Just moments before the aerial bomb exploded, a mob happened to be there, less than 2 meters from the bomb.”

Milton turned around, a hint of surprise in his voice: "Are you sure you're from the parade?"

"Confirmed, there are other photos as evidence."

Milton couldn't help but laugh: "That's fantastic! This further solidifies the evidence that the Gulf Group bombed the TV station! This photo must be widely publicized, and the Gulf Group must be held fully responsible!"

"Who is that reporter? What brave soul dared to go to the bomb blast site to take pictures? They deserve a bonus!"

That's a 450-kilogram aerial bomb! Any normal person would want to fly to another city immediately upon hearing that. Who would dare to get close?

Olya coughed again and pointed to herself: "Me."

"No wonder you're covered in dust." Milton suddenly realized, "Are all war correspondents like this? Aren't they afraid of dying?"

“I was actually standing quite far away.” A hint of lingering fear flashed across Olya’s face. “But I still underestimated the power of the explosion… Although the shockwave didn’t affect me much, I inhaled a wave of heat that almost cooked my lungs.”

Milton glanced at her and said, "By the time it got to you, it had almost completely worn off, otherwise you wouldn't be able to stand here and talk to me right now. But don't push yourself too hard. Fly back in a bit, get a check-up at the hospital, and while you're at it, quickly do an emergency news broadcast."

"The bonus will be included in your next month's salary."

“…I really didn’t expect that I could earn so much more here than before.” Olya calculated her current savings, her tone tinged with disbelief. “I’m actually a rich person now.”

Milton sat down in a chair and said casually, "Just making things up? I thought you wouldn't do something like that?"

“It depends on your purpose.” Olya smiled. “I don’t know if your path is right or wrong, but I at least know that your ideals and goals are not wrong, and that’s enough. After all, a path is discovered through exploration, and failure doesn’t necessarily mean that the goal is wrong, does it?”

Tsk, the bewildered Soviets.

Milton said nothing more and waved for Olya to leave.

Just then, the police officers and soldiers who had been outside beating people with batons returned to the police station.

After Olya left the office, employees of Warwind Company and police officers came over.

“‘Mr. Father’,” the leader said with a hint of guilt, “I’m sorry, we still couldn’t catch up with everyone.”

Milton waved his hand dismissively: "They have a lot of people, so it's normal that they can't catch everyone. You've done a good job. Go eat, and we'll report back in detail after you finish eating. Today's crackdown was just an appetizer; the real battle is yet to come."

"Remember to eat more meat, don't just drink soup, otherwise you won't have the strength to fight later!"

The officers were so moved they almost cried—when had they ever fought such a rewarding battle?

Most of the officers left with profuse thanks, but Javier, who was somewhat isolated, stood there.

After everyone else had gone far away, he cautiously glanced at Milton, considering how to start the conversation.

"What's wrong? Tell me."

Milton patted the table, gesturing for the officer to sit down.

Judging from his recent performance and the fact that the panel consistently considers him a teammate, Javier, whose brother and father are both drug dealers and police officers, is truly dedicated to fighting drugs.

The prejudices held by other officers may need some time to gradually dissipate.

“‘Mr. Father’… Just now, Congressman Vic contacted me and said he would like to talk to you about something.”

Milton glanced at him, not asking why he was in contact with outsiders, but simply asked, "Before we talk, shouldn't you at least briefly introduce me to this Congressman Vic?"

Javier paused for a moment, then quickly said, "He is a city councilor in Tapachula, one of the few councilors who still maintains a tough stance on drug prohibition... Other councilors with similar positions are either intimidated by drug traffickers and dare not speak out anymore, or they have simply been killed by drug traffickers."

"Perhaps you need such a friend?"

Milton nodded slightly: "He's survived this long, so he must have some means of self-preservation. No problem, I can meet with him and tell me when."

Milton has also been struggling with this problem recently: what will happen to the new mayor after the old mayor falls from power?
A person with local popular support and a relatively firm stance is the most suitable ally.

The current police chief, Omar, is a good candidate, but if he becomes mayor, who will be the police chief? These screened individuals can be guaranteed to be loyal, but their abilities are definitely not as good as Omar's.

If this Congressman Vic is as Havel described, then he could indeed be brought over as an ally.

Anyone who can persist in publishing anti-drug statements in such a godforsaken place and still be alive must have some skill to them.

Javier looked a little anxious: "Today, right away, is that alright?"

"Are you in a hurry?" Milton asked with a smile. "Why?"

Havel smiled wryly and said, "'Mr. Father,' you are right. Congressman Vic does have his own security team, but I am now beginning to doubt the reliability of this security team."

“Congressman Vic has a lot of influence here. He’s not afraid of death, but if he dies, it will be a major blow to your plans.”

Milton frowned. "You think his bodyguards are unreliable? Why?"

"You've probably heard that several city councilors who supported anti-drug efforts were killed... The reason they were killed was largely due to the betrayal of their bodyguards."

Milton paused, then asked, "How did you know?"

“My brother and my father told me that they hoped I would join them… so they told me about it, hoping I would back down. The problem is, Congressman Vic doesn’t care much about these things. He thinks the people around him are reliable and that they will stick together.”

"...I heard that your father and your brother don't work for the same drug cartel?"

"Yes, so they almost came to blows over it."

This is Mexico...

The biggest logic here is that there is no logic.

"Okay, let him come over and see if we can reach some basic consensus."

"I'll go inform him, please wait a moment."

About half an hour after Javier left, Milton saw an older executive sedan pull up in front of the police station, followed by an SUV full of bodyguards.

A sprightly man, probably in his fifties with a ruddy complexion, stepped out of the car, nodded to the police officer at the door, and quickly arrived at the third floor of the police station, in front of Milton's office.

“Guatemalan!” Milton heard a hearty laugh before he even stepped inside. “I’ve heard your story. You’re very strong. Omar has been confused for so long, but he’s finally found a reliable friend.”

They seem very passionate.

Those who persist in fighting drugs at such a time must themselves be passionate revolutionaries.

Milton gestured with his chin, indicating that Vic should sit down, and said, "It's not that the chief is confused, but rather that many people cannot resist the temptations offered by drug dealers."

“You’re right,” Vic chuckled. “And the fact that you’ve cleaned up the police station so thoroughly is why I dared to come here.”

Milton nodded: "In that case, let's skip the pleasantries. After you take down Carmen, I hope you can take up the position of mayor of Tapachula and establish a deeper level of cooperation with me. I can provide you with military protection and ensure that no one can interfere with Tapachula's politics by force."

“That’s my goal too.” Vic clenched his fist. “We can’t let Carmen keep running rampant like this, or the whole city will be ruined. If I become mayor, I will wipe out all these drug dealers!” “And my requirements are simple,” Milton said slowly. “First, after you become mayor, you must allow my company to come here to recruit people.”

"Do you offer employment? I'd love to! Haha!"

"Secondly, if you have similar military-related orders, I hope my company will always have a fair opportunity to participate in the bidding process."

Vic agreed without hesitation: “It’s a very reasonable request, no problem at all… But isn’t it too early to talk about this now? Impeaching Mayor Carmen and removing her from office is not an easy thing.”

"Your actions were resolute and decisive, restoring the confidence of many who were still observing. I also contacted many members of parliament who disliked drug dealers but dared not openly oppose them, but we still have a long way to go..."

Milton looked at him and raised his hand: "Wait, I think that removing the mayor doesn't necessarily require impeaching him. I have a simpler, more direct method."

"what?!"

"Kill him."

"No matter what, Carmen was a mayor who was legally elected. Isn't it a bit inappropriate to just kill her?"

“If the enemy also abides by the rules, then I certainly wouldn’t use assassination to deal with political opponents. But the problem is, several members of parliament have already been assassinated, haven’t they? If the enemy doesn’t follow the rules, and you still try to bind yourself with the rules, the only outcome will be defeat.”

Seeing Vic deep in thought, Milton spoke again: "By the way, before the assassination, let me check your bodyguards with a lie detector. Just in case you get killed before we even start the assassination."

The next step is to control the administrative power in Tapachula and gradually encircle the drug traffickers at all levels!
……

The El Carmen neighborhood has been moved to another house, the Gulf Group's headquarters.

"Water! Clean water, and electricity!" Cardenas, a low-level leader sent by the Gulf Group, angrily smashed a bunch of things. "I told you, wash yourself clean before you come in!"

Since Milton detonated the community's sewer system and several septic trucks, Cardenas and the Gulf Group have been living in a state of utter misery for the past few days.

That terrifying smell could absolutely drive a person insane.

“Boss, there’s no point in saying this.” A burly man with a traditional Mexican appearance had an extremely grim face. “Kill him and avenge the brothers! I’ll make this country bumpkin regret ever being born!”

He was called by Cárdenas and was part of a former GAFE military squad in Mexico. He and two others chose to protect Cárdenas and did not board the helicopter, thus saving their lives.

But everyone else on the helicopter was dead!
He was executed with his head held high!

Those were their brothers who had fought alongside them on the battlefield, and they had fallen into the filth, dying without any dignity.

Damn Milton!

Cárdenas's face darkened: "Wait a little longer... I've already contacted our brothers in the Guatemalan special forces; they should be here in two days at most."

“Okay… Remember to tell them to avoid Milton’s territory. We… we brought a set of Stingers with us before, but we didn’t find them when we checked the helicopter. I guess Milton took them.” The special forces soldier said resentfully, “Don’t let anything go wrong.”

"No problem, I'll talk to them... Don't worry, this parade will definitely give Milton a run for his money!"

"Whether we choose repression or compromise, my people are prepared."

Before Cardenas could finish speaking, a flustered sound suddenly came from outside the door.

"Boss, boss!"

This is... one of the drug dealers he sent out to lead the march.

came back?
Cardenas frowned and moved a little further away: "How did you get yourself into this mess? Did Milton really choose violent suppression? Heh, that's pretty much what I guessed."

"Call that good-for-nothing Carmen and tell him to contact the TV station immediately and expose the police brutality!"

"The fact that you're back now means the protests aren't over yet. We're probably in the most intense phase of the violence right now, right? There should be TV reporters there by now."

"Dare to suppress the protests? Let them write reports and take photos right away. I want Omar and Milton to fall completely and never be able to stand up again!"

The drug dealer's face was filled with fear. He shook his head: "Boss, the parade is over... Milton, he, he just killed people. He sent people to be beaten to death in the street. He didn't care at all!"

There was absolutely no stage where a line of police officers with riot shields were pulling at the marchers!
“Madman!” Cárdenas sneered. “He’s finished. Trying to use military tactics to do politics? A foreigner, daring to come to Mexico and kill ‘civilians’? He’s doomed! Turn on the TV, I want to see how the news reports it.”

Upon hearing this, fear flashed in the drug dealer's eyes once again.

But he didn't dare to say anything more.

After turning on the television and twisting the knob several times, Cardenas frowned and muttered to himself, somewhat puzzled, "Strange, why can't I get a signal from Tapachula TV? What's going on?"

After he twisted it several more times, a very unfamiliar TV station suddenly appeared on the screen.

News reporting is underway above.

And the scene looked very familiar; it was Tapachula, near the police station, which was in a mess!

"What kind of TV station is this?" Cardenas shifted his posture. "Never mind, it doesn't matter what kind of TV station it is, as long as it gets broadcast..."

The host looked very serious and regretfully at the script in his hand.

"Just now, we received a sad news report. It happened in Mexico, in the state of Chiapas, in the beautiful city of Tapachula."

"A terrorist attack orchestrated by the Gulf Cartel occurred in Tapachula this morning, resulting in numerous casualties and property damage."

Just as Cardenas was about to peel a peanut to eat while reading, he almost jumped off the sofa when he heard this!
The Gulf Group? They plotted a terrorist attack?!

On television, footage captured by reporters was already playing – people in the march were chanting “Long live the Gulf Group” and other extreme slogans like “Kill everyone”.

Cardenas grabbed a nearby stool and smashed it at the drug dealer, his head spinning with rage: "What did I tell you? I told you to pretend to be civilians... no, they were civilians to begin with! Why are you shouting 'Gulf Cartel'? Are they even our people? How loyal are they?!"

The drug dealer was knocked to the ground, letting out a painful scream: "Ah—boss, boss, that's what we ordered, but..."

boom!
At that moment, on the television screen, someone suddenly opened fire in the march, and a police officer fell down, his abdomen stained red!
boom! ! !
A large number of terrifying explosives exploded among the police officers!

"They fired?" Cardenas nearly fainted. "You actually fired at the police officers first? Who, who told you to do this... No, that's not right! It was Milton's men, it must have been Milton's men!"

"He's a madman! He's absolutely insane!"

"He's trying to frame us. We absolutely can't let him succeed. We need to clarify things immediately, make it clear that we have nothing to do with this attack, and get everyone of ours who appears on camera out of Tapachula, immediately!"

The former Mexican special forces soldier was bewildered—this scene made it seem like they were the good guys who had been framed, and Milton was the villain.

Isn't there something wrong with the script?

"Don't just stand there, call the TV station right now! I need to clarify this immediately!"

Just then, the scene changed, and a dilapidated ruin belching thick smoke appeared on the television screen.

The reinforced concrete structure collapsed from the top floor downwards, with exposed steel bars torn off and hanging from the broken walls. Many load-bearing columns were broken, and the entire wall, bearing the "Tapachula TV" sign, lay smashed on the ground…

The news anchor continued with a sorrowful expression: "In an effort to prevent the spread of their atrocities, the Gulf Group terrorists even planned a bomb attack on the television station. Fortunately, an international journalist risked his life to bring out these precious video materials, thwarting the villains' plot."

"There is sufficient and compelling evidence to prove that the TV station bombing was a planned attack on the police station, orchestrated by terrorists from the Gulf Group!"

"A photograph clearly shows some people who had been in the march carrying a large bomb near the television station, preparing to detonate it."

"Local residents expressed shock at the suicide attack and strongly condemned the Gulf Group and its local representative, Cardenas."

"The international community was shocked."

"These events demonstrate that this is an extremely brutal, ruthless, indiscriminate, and unscrupulous criminal. We urge the Mexican authorities to take immediate and forceful measures..."

Bang bang bang!
Cardenas pulled out a pistol and blew the television set to smithereens.

"I did it! They actually said I did it! Damn it, how come I didn't know I did these things?"

"How dare Milton's men so righteously slander me? Doesn't their conscience hurt? They know perfectly well I'm innocent!"

"This is shameless slander! This is blatant framing!"

“They slandered me!”

Milton, you fucking bastard, you beast!

Cardenas jumped up and down, cursing, but sadly realized that he really had no way to prove his innocence—because they were a criminal organization!

"No, we can't play childish games with Milton anymore..."

Cardenas finally began to realize that his room for maneuver was getting smaller and smaller.

"Once they arrive, act immediately! I'm going to start a city-wide war, and I'll put indiscriminate bounties on the heads of every police officer! Also, kill that councilor named Vic at all costs! The city government must be in our hands!!!"

"Also, help me contact people from the Sinaloa Group and the Juarez Group! We can't afford to fight amongst ourselves right now, or we'll all be dead!"

"Let Tapachula burn!"

P.S.: Happy Labor Day everyone! Thank you for the tips, thank you for the monthly tickets, thank you for everything!
(End of this chapter)