Taxes are only within machine gun range!

Chapter 16 Me? I'm here to collect taxes.

Old street sewers, pharmacies.

In front of the "boss" and Officer Brandon, a tall Mexican man was using a scraper to slowly smear the pool of blood on the floor onto the wall.

No, that's not blood.

It should be said that it was a "brine" made up of flesh, organs, bones and other miscellaneous human tissues mixed together.

Just now, this group of cruel Mexicans chopped a fruit stand owner into a "paste" in front of everyone in the pharmacy.

The only saving grace was that Lia, who had gone to the cafeteria earlier, didn't witness this scene.

I don't know if she hid well, I don't know if she was caught by these thugs...

This poor child...both his parents died at the hands of Fan Kangbang, and their deaths were both gruesome.

Even though they had heard about the cruelty of Mexicans before, they never imagined that such cruelty could be so bloody.

Brandon struggled to control his anger and the urge to pull out his sidearm and kill those scumbags.

He couldn't beat the gangsters with submachine guns, and even if he could, he wouldn't dare to.

No one can withstand the retaliation from Fan Kang's gang.

Kalia is a kind and good girl; she shouldn't have to face such a cruel reality...

The Mexican finally spoke: "This is the price of going against us, don't you think, officer?"

Brandon gripped his pistol tightly and said coldly, "He's not fighting against you. Is this how you Mexicans behave? You only bully the innocent to show off your power?"

"All I know is that one of our men died in his fruit shop..."

Before the words were finished, a terrifying explosion suddenly came from outside the door!
Boom boom boom!
That's the sound of an automatic rifle firing!
A gang member shouted, "Chris is dead!"

Immediately afterward, a panicked voice came from outside the door: "Boss, what do we do? Should we rush in?"

The tall Mexican man, who had just been slapping plaster and making threats, grabbed his submachine gun and rushed out the door, shouting menacingly, "Charge! Take him down!"

Only a few bewildered people remained in the pharmacy, exchanging glances.

Nobody knows what happened.

Why would someone suddenly attack this place?

Could it be the police? Impossible, they're not that efficient…

Amidst the intense gunfire, shouts, and even explosions, the people in the pharmacy were filled with fear and helplessness, completely unable to guess what was happening outside.

Could it be another gang that has a conflict with Fan Kang's gang?
But they didn't remain lost for long.

Just over a minute later, the gunfire completely subsided.

Ten seconds later, the pharmacy door was pushed open.

Thud... A man was thrown into the pharmacy like a dead dog.

This was the same gang member who had just been threatening them and acting arrogantly; now he lay on the ground, with no more dignity than a pig waiting to be slaughtered.

Where are the others? Are they all dead?!

There were six of them, and they were all taken care of in such a short time?

Killing five people in a minute... that's faster than killing a chicken!
Brandon's pupils contracted slightly as he looked up at the person who had walked in, and then he froze once again.

The inspector he met at the fruit stand not long ago!!

Could it be him? !
Milton picked up his tactical helmet, stretched his sore neck, pointed at the assassin on the ground, and asked, "Are there any of their accomplices here?"

Brandon's tone was extremely complicated: "You, how many people did you kill?"

“Five.” Milton glanced at the familiar-looking officer, then turned to Leah and smiled. “Little girl, not bad acting.”

Milton didn't care about, and understood, this kind of concealment that didn't harm others but was merely for self-preservation.

Five, meaning Milton killed five powerful enemies and captured one alive in a minute... Is he really just an inspector?
It seems this prosecutor has no teammates!

Brandon instinctively took a half step back: "That's all."

"Hmm... By the way, Leah's father?" Milton nodded, glancing around. "Is he still here?"

The assassin just said they've dismembered Leah's father, but Milton doesn't completely trust what someone says before they die; it's very likely a lie.

The "boss" paused for a moment, then said briefly, "He's gone."

She's gone. Lia's face turned deathly pale; she swayed, nearly losing her balance and falling to the ground!

Milton didn't say much, but grabbed the assassin's head and shoved it into the sink next to him.

After a full thirty or forty seconds, Milton finally lifted the struggling assassin up, grabbed a pair of pliers from the table, and forcefully pulled a front tooth out of his mouth.

The poor killer had just escaped suffocation and hadn't even had a chance to cough up the fluid in his lungs when he felt excruciating pain again!

Then his fingernails tightened, and a hard lump flew off his finger.

I can't breathe...it hurts...it hurts so much...

Suffocation, tooth extraction, nail removal... In the killer's hazy mind, he unconsciously praised himself as a tough guy who wouldn't confess even under such torture.

Wait, no, what are you confessing to? Did this prosecutor even ask any questions?!

What am I carrying, and what is he fighting?
"Ah!!!" the assassin screamed immediately. "Ask me, I'll tell you everything, I'll tell you everything!!!"

Milton said coldly, "Milton Mings, inspector at the La Mesia checkpoint, ID number 10983, is issuing you a ticket for bringing unregistered controlled weapons into the country with you and for violently resisting tax collection."

“You have the right to remain silent, but everything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law.” Milton stopped abruptly, “No… I’m not a police officer. I’m sorry, you don’t have the right to remain silent. As an inspector, my power over tax evaders is unlimited.”

Milton pulled out a ticket, wrote an astronomical sum of $10 on it, and threw it in the hitman's face: "This is the fine for destroying checkpoint assets, smuggling weapons, and violently resisting taxes. Any objections?"

These assassins definitely don't have that much money on them, but it doesn't matter, they'll take whatever they can get.

"No, no!"

“Very well, where did you put your money?” Milton asked with a smile. “I suggest you think carefully before you answer. If I don’t collect all the taxes, even if you hide in jail… no, even if you hide in hell, I will find you. Don’t think I’m bluffing.”

The assassin, already terrified, confessed without hesitation: "In...in the house east of the central church, buried under the chimney..."

Listening to the two's back-and-forth, the other people in the pharmacy felt as if their brains had been violated.

An inspector, armed with automatic weapons and going on a killing spree, even using grenades, just to collect taxes?!
An absurd idea began to spread in their minds—they could do anything from now on, they could steal, they could cheat, they could even kill… but they absolutely could not evade taxes!

Otherwise, the prosecutor might kill your whole family.

In a small town that relies on border trade, no one can escape paying taxes!

Milton continued, "Where is the Van Conn gang's camp? What's your firepower like?"

"The camp is in the woods on the Mexican side. To get here, you have to go through a checkpoint... but it won't take long, only 30 minutes."

"Yes, we have heavy machine guns, mortars... and armored vehicles! But recently, we... they've been fighting another gang, and a lot of the weapons aren't at the camp. You know, the gang also has business in Mexico."

Armed gang, with ample firepower... We can't fight them head-on for the time being.

Fortunately, Fan Kang's gang had to pass through a checkpoint, and Horn was there as an informant, allowing them to get some information in advance.

"..."

Milton nodded, turned to the pharmacy "owner," and asked, "He probably doesn't have enough money to pay taxes. Are there any black market dealers who buy living people? Let me see how much money I can get by selling him."

The entire room fell silent once again.

Everyone is more determined than ever to avoid owing taxes, especially customs duties.

Look at this, what kind of talk is this? Even if you sell a living person, you still have to pay the taxes... Does this sound like something a law enforcement officer would say?

The "boss" shook his head, his voice hoarse: "He's from Fan Kang's gang, nobody dares to take him."

Ok.

Milton shook his head regretfully, raising his gun and aiming it at the assassin.

Overwhelmed by the fear of death, the assassin screamed in terror, "Don't kill me! I told you, all my money is there, I didn't lie to you! I have nothing left to say!"

However, Milton's expression remained unchanged, as if he were merely listening to a dying man giving his last words.

Lia's mother, Lia's father, must have pleaded with him in the same way before they died.

Upon seeing that look, the assassin completely broke down. He struggled to crawl a couple of steps and looked at Brandon beside him: "Officer, save me! I'm a criminal, I've been arrested, I didn't resist! You can't kill me... Please, arrest me and put me in jail! You should let a judge try me, you can't use vigilante justice!"

Brandon just stared at him coldly, feeling incredibly ironic—who would have thought that a vicious gang would beg law enforcement to uphold the law?
Seeing that no one paid him any attention, the assassin finally despaired. He cursed in a fierce voice, "You...you will all die! The Fan Kang Gang will not let you go! Just you wait! I'll be waiting for you in hell..."

click!
A single .22LR bullet ended his commotion.

Milton put away his weapon, tossed a receipt onto the corpse, then turned to the "boss" and said, "His taxes are settled. Now it's your turn."

The atmosphere in the pharmacy, which had just eased, suddenly became tense again!
(End of this chapter)