Taxes are only within machine gun range!

Chapter 188 What is your mission in Retaluleu?! (Seeking monthly votes!)

Did they organize sick civilians to charge directly at the army?

Milton was somewhat taken aback when he heard the report.

It wasn't the local commander's human-like appearance that surprised him, but rather how he dared to come up with such a tactic—Milton felt he had done so many crazy things, how could anyone think this tactic would work on him?

Milton's judgment of civilians was simple: the moment someone picks up a weapon to fight, they cease to be a civilian.

Plagues were also included in the category of weapons.

“Are any troops on the front lines experiencing something similar?” Milton stood up. “This situation is unlikely to be reported to my level. Go and ask.”

Flora nodded and immediately began her investigation.

After a moment, she turned to Milton and replied, “Yes. One company encountered this situation. They were worried about some kind of conspiracy, and they were also worried that if they acted rashly, they would fall into a trap, so they simply chose to drive them away.”

"The soldiers are currently engaged in urban warfare, and there is no room for any unexpected factors."

“These gatherings are getting bigger and bigger.”

Milton raised his index finger and pointed it at the air, asking, "At first, it was just a small-scale probing attack, but as the street fighting progressed, the scale of the gathering grew larger and larger... Interesting."

Flora asked curiously, "What's wrong?"

“This shows that at the beginning, even when coerced and bribed by Lopez’s people, these mobs didn’t dare to offend us. They were the army, but we weren’t?” Milton’s voice grew colder. “It was only after the street fighting had gone on for a while that the mob discovered that we did have military discipline, that we didn’t loot, destroy, or commit crimes, so they became bolder.”

Flora understood what Milton meant: "Oh...so people are bullied because they are kind, right?"

"Yes."

Flora silently mourned for the mob before asking, "So, what do you plan to do?"

"Immediately relay my order: conduct a semi-violent expulsion." Milton walked outside. "After this expulsion, those who haven't left yet won't have to leave."

“Normal civilians who just want medical treatment will definitely leave immediately if they see the army about to take action.”

"The rest of the people are either local gang leaders, armed drug traffickers, or people whose brains have been damaged by drug use... In any case, they are not real civilians."

Even if it is, it isn't.

"Let's go and see what the situation is over there."

Milton stood up, picked up his gas mask, opened the door of the armored vehicle, and stepped inside.

He wanted to see who was so foolish as to dare to confront his army head-on.

Before long, Milton arrived in the occupied territory under protection, and as the report stated, a large crowd had already gathered around the occupied territory.

Many of them were also holding various flags and signs.

"We oppose war in all its forms; we need peace!"

"On behalf of the Retaluleu people, I'm telling you, nobody needs your hypocritical food!"

“I see your people eating meat. We are human beings too, we are taxpayers too, we also want to eat meat, we demand to eat the same things as you!”

"Look, there's still some mud and sand in the porridge! I suspect you're deliberately trying to murder me with junk food!"

"An epidemic has broken out in the city; it must be because there's something wrong with the food you're providing!"

An old woman stood at the very front, her roguishness surpassing even that of many of the thugs: "I'll lie down right here!"

"Peace!"

"Do you think that giving away a little porridge can cover up your acts of war? We want medicine, we want health, we want peace!"

Some people even held up megaphones and shouted, "You started the war, you caused the plague to spread in the city, you need to take responsibility."

Others silently held up blood-red signs with stark white words printed on them: "Those who claim to overthrow tyranny, where is our life-saving medicine?"

"..."

Many more people held up numerous photos depicting the human tragedy of overcrowded hospitals, deaths from various diseases, and countless children suffering from hunger.

It's as if they're accusing Milton of causing these tragedies.

"Sigh, look, the refugee relief has backfired, hasn't it?" Flora teased. "Now these people are asking for even more, and they're complaining that you're not giving them enough."

This is insatiable greed.

Once they discover that the other party can be reasoned with, some people immediately become arrogant and make unreasonable demands.

He doesn't even consider the possibility that someone might actually punch him.

“Not ‘these people,’ just ‘them.’” Milton replied, looking at the scenery outside the bulletproof glass. “The real disaster victims are all very honest. No one wants to keep receiving relief, no one is taking advantage of them, and they are all actively looking for work.”

"These people are enemy soldiers, not civilians. They're just using more concealed weapons and the guise of 'plague'... Do you believe I could shoot every other one of them and still miss the drug dealers?"

"Look at this place, the entrance to the military camp is completely blocked." Flora raised her chin. "How are we supposed to get in?"

In the urban warfare, Milton's army occupied some residential areas, using the buildings as cover to establish some camps as temporary strongholds.

After clearing out the enemies inside the buildings and controlling access, they can block some gaps between buildings and set up camp in the spaces between them, making it difficult for enemy direct fire to pose a threat.

Indirect fire also struggles to lock onto targets.

The training has indeed yielded some results...

Seeing that Milton didn't speak, Flora suggested, "That place is the back door, it's more hidden, why don't we go through there?"

Milton sat calmly and said indifferently, "Why go through all this trouble? I thought the gate was quite spacious. We can just drive right through."

This surprised not only Flora, but also the driver. They glanced at the people standing on the road holding signs and shouting.

"what?"

Milton reiterated, "Drive right through! Treat it as a blind spot. If anyone asks you, just let them tell their superior."

The command is already quite clear.

The driver didn't ask any more questions, immediately turned the car towards the crowd, and stepped on the gas!

Honestly, this driver has been really annoyed lately—anyone who kindly shares their food with others, only to be smeared like this, wouldn't be in a good mood.

If it weren't for Mr. "The Godfather" repeatedly warning them not to harm civilians without cause and not to disrupt order, they would have stopped talking nonsense long ago.

Now that the "Godfather" has given the order, what are we waiting for?
Damn it, crash into it!

"Fuck your plague is because of the food we're providing, die!"

boom!
The LAV-25's American V6 diesel engine roared to life!

Before any of the mob could react, the armored vehicle had already charged straight ahead, its hard frontal armor slamming into the heads of the throng in front of the windshield.

Some of them had just turned around in confusion, and before they could even show a look of horror on their faces, their bones were broken by the armor plates, and their bodies were bent and broken in a gruesome way, getting caught under the chassis of the eight-wheeled vehicle.

The dull thud of the metal chassis colliding with the skeleton shocked everyone present—except Milton.

The crowd scattered to both sides like waves of wheat after being plowed. However, these people were like a pile of dung when they gathered, and scattered like dung everywhere. Before they could take two steps, they started to push and shove, and a stampede occurred.

Haw!

Milton saw a burst of blood explode, splattering thick blood onto the bulletproof glass.

At the same time, Milton felt the armored car bounce very, very slightly up and down, like a family car running over a very thin speed bump.

"The quality of this speed bump is just so-so."

Flora had been holding back something: "'Tax collector,' could you please stop making me laugh during a war..."

The armored vehicle rolled over the crowd, leaving a trail of blood and slogans scattered in the blood behind it.

Milton glanced back—just as he had expected, the crowd that had seemed so invincible, daring to confront the army head-on, was already collapsing because of such a small loss.

Several men with identical tattoos and wearing similarly colored clothes threw down the loudspeaker and turned to run away. One of them even took the manhole cover that had just been dug up and pushed the old woman blocking his way down it.

Even though he had lived in this place for several months, Milton was still speechless at the dazzling and frighteningly ridiculous magical scene.

Isn't this way more incredible than Florida?

The armored vehicle drove into the camp, crushing the corpses along the way.

Milton stood up, pushed open the car door, and stepped onto the blood-soaked pedal with his boots—he had casually torn off someone's finger as he jumped out of the car and tossed it onto the ground.

The soldiers in the camp, guns at the ready, stared at Milton in disbelief, forgetting to salute immediately.

They were just having a real headache with these guys, but Milton solved it all as soon as he arrived?
No, no... it wasn't about resolving it. Milton didn't even waste a second because of these people, because his car just drove right in!
No wonder he's called the "Hell Tax Collector"—this is what efficiency is all about.

"What are you standing there for?" Milton patted himself, expressing his strong dissatisfaction. "Didn't you see how many people escaped? Catch them all and make sure to ask them what their mission was in Retalu Leu."

They're killing, finishing off, and even chasing after him...

The soldiers swallowed hard, nodded quickly, waved, put on their gas masks, and chased after the fleeing people.

The officer in charge of the area was a little embarrassed. He quickly saluted Milton and said cautiously, "Good afternoon, sir!"

“How could things have escalated like this?” Milton asked, somewhat puzzled. “I remember you, you came from the resistance, right? How could you make such a mistake?” To be honest, if one of these people was carrying a bomb and was so close, a sudden detonation could have caused real damage.

Milton continuously provided supplies to the resistance forces, airlifting logistical support, and they also tried their best to send over some of the people Milton could use.

The officer looked both guilty and uneasy: "Sir... I... I'm a little hesitant, because when we entered the city before, we saw a TV station and reporters."

“I’m worried that if reporters take pictures of you and then exaggerate the story, it will cause you trouble.”

"Previous resistance fighters were also slandered in this way, so..."

Milton's expression changed: "A reporter?!"

The officer nodded solemnly and with great certainty: "Yes, I'm sure there are reporters here, and they're not from any TV station we control! If we act rashly, we could easily give them something to hold against us."

Milton was already a little annoyed: "Why didn't you tell me about something so important sooner?!"

The officer gave a wry smile: "I've already reported it to my superiors... Perhaps, perhaps the officers don't think this matter is serious enough to warrant reporting it to you?"

Since the military isn't managed in a flat, hierarchical manner, it's normal that this kind of relatively unimportant intelligence wouldn't reach Milton's level.

Seeing Milton's undisguised frustration, the officer sighed inwardly—although the "Hell Tax Collector" was calm, mad, powerful, resourceful, and ruthless, no one is perfect, and he would inevitably make mistakes.

But that's normal; who can always be perfect in their calculations?
Milton slammed his hand on the armored vehicle door and ordered Flora, "Quickly, notify logistics to bring me all the captured government army uniforms, as many as you can get, hurry!"

"Hurry up! Right now, there are doubts about the authenticity of the news from the media I control. Why don't we quickly put on government army uniforms, slaughter these rioters, and let the outside world see a real civil war battlefield environment without my media involvement?"

“Perfect timing. We’ve recruited some former government troops, so let them come and remember one word: ‘authentic’!”

"The righteous Pan Madre rebels are distributing food, while the evil government forces are massacring civilians!"

"Kill them! Kill them all! Damn it, they ate my food and didn't even say thank you, they actually dared to take advantage of me! I've wanted to kill them for a long time."

The officer was dumbfounded: "Huh?"

So this is why the "Hell Tax Collector" was frustrated.
He wasn't regretting that he had acted too impulsively and killed people, but rather regretting that he hadn't seized the opportunity to kill everyone.

madman!

As Flora made the arrangements, she asked, "'Tax collector,' we can wear government army uniforms, will the government army do the same?"

Milton chuckled: "They can't do it... Our army wasn't wiped out or captured in a systematic way, so how could the government forces get so many of our uniforms?"

“My military uniforms are all custom-made. My army is the only one in the world that uses this style of clothing. They can’t get them anywhere else.”

"Even if Lopez really went crazy and gritted his teeth to squeeze out this money, by the time the clothes were ready, the battle would have been over long ago."

The Pan Madre group's armed forces all have uniforms, which Milton obtained from the panel using regular points.

There's only one style available worldwide, and you absolutely can't buy it in stock.

"Ming, I understand..."

Milton added, "Remember to do a good job of identifying friend from foe, so that our own people don't end up fighting each other. By the way, call Olya over. We can't just let others report passively; we need to report proactively ourselves."

"Also, we're a little short on funds right now. These families probably have some money and have probably evaded some taxes. Remember to collect the money before you kill them."

"Ha, they really think I don't rob people, oh, and don't collect taxes?"

The officer was already a little numb. He nodded mechanically: "Understood, sir."

He was walking with a slightly unsteady gait when he left.

terrible!

Milton turned to Flora, whose expression was equally tense, and continued to instruct, "Call Brandon over and have him lead the engineering corps to temporarily build a gas chamber."

"I don't even need to think about it. There must be a lot of drugs here. It's perfect for letting these scumbags deal with this garbage themselves."

Flora remained calm, hummed in agreement twice, thought for a moment, and then asked, "Hmm... should we fabricate a charge? Should we just stuff them in and poison them all?"

“If we can find a charge against him, we’ll use that charge; if we can’t, we’ll say he evaded taxes.” Milton waved his hand. “Just make something up. Anyway, we’re a brutal and insane government army.”

Flora remarked with considerable emotion, "Meeting you was Lopez's worst luck..."

"Enough talk, let's get moving." Milton reached up and touched his gas mask. "Then, notify our rear to prepare medicine—after we control the hospitals, we still need to deal with the plague."

"Those who want to cause trouble with the plague will go into the gas chambers, but the civilians who are really suffering will be helped as much as possible, because they are my source of tax revenue."

Flora sighed: "Actually, controlling this plague isn't that difficult. The biggest obstacles are the price of the medicine and the artificially created scarcity."

“‘Tax collector,’ I can assure you, the local pharmaceutical conglomerates are definitely taking this opportunity to make a fortune.”

"A pill costs $200 and can save your life. Want to buy it? Can't afford it? No problem, just turn left and you'll find a loan shark gang. Borrow the money and you can buy it."

"Believe me, people will buy it, countless people will buy it. Compared to $200, life is more expensive, isn't it?"

“They can drain a family’s wallet in one go and leave them with 10 years’ worth of wealth. Even if we take the city, all we’ll get is a bunch of poor people.”

"And those rentiers had already absconded with all the money. When Ciampellico fell, they came to Retaluleu; when Retaluleu fell, they went to Quetzaltenango... They always had somewhere to go."

"Those who remain are all scapegoats."

Milton paused for a moment, then nodded very slightly and said, "So when I only had Malacan Town under my control, I started selling health insurance."

Furthermore, the panel can also be used to redeem medicines. With the purchasing power of points and the actual price of most medicines, meeting current medical needs is not too difficult.

"Ugh, you've really lost out!"

“We won’t lose a penny.” Milton sneered. “You say those people have already run off with the money, so why not just bring them back?”

Flora was a little confused: "How can you catch them? You might not even know their names..."

“Didn’t they leave behind a scapegoat?” Milton said. “As long as they leave clues, I have a way to track them down.”

"Make them vomit up whatever amount they take in."

"These people seem to have forgotten that my nickname is 'Hell Tax Collector'."

It's simply a matter of spending some points to buy information.

Flora seized the opportunity to quip, "So you've finally given up resisting and even admitted to your own nickname? I told you when we first met that nicknames are given by others, and you'll accept them someday."

"Shut up."

"..."

……

In the afternoon.

After hearing the gunshots, many war correspondents were already on the move.

They were already reporting on the plague here, on the hospitals being overcrowded, and now that the war has spread, these fearless war correspondents naturally have to come and get first-hand intelligence.

"This is... TV reporter Bob! I'm currently in Retaluleu, Guatemala... Transnational warlords have invaded... The situation... Plague..."

"Urban warfare is currently underway, resulting in heavy civilian casualties, and the situation continues to deteriorate."

Before he could finish speaking, a large group of fleeing people suddenly appeared in the shot, dressed as civilians or local gangsters.

Bob had just pointed the camera at the scene, intending to continue his report using this footage…

Suddenly, gunfire erupted!
Boom boom boom! ! !
A barrage of bullets swept through, and the crowd fell in droves.

In the footage, a group of people dressed in government army uniforms and using standard government army weapons are seen firing wildly at the crowd!
Bob was shocked and blurted out, "The government troops have gone mad! They're shooting at civilians!"

Even the "civilians" were bewildered—weren't they supposed to cooperate in targeting Milton? Why did this group of government troops rush up at them without saying a word and start shooting?
At this moment, Bob had already rushed forward with the camera, trying to get a close-up shot.

The footage clearly shows the group of menacing government soldiers rushing forward, grabbing the people on the ground, and putting them into vehicles.

Upon seeing reporters taking photos, one of the soldiers, remembering Milton's teachings, displayed a brazen expression, gave the camera the middle finger, and then randomly executed a drug dealer disguised as a civilian in front of the camera.

"Is that exciting enough, sir?"

"You stupid reporter, watch out, someone might stab your ass with a gun barrel tonight, hahaha!"

Despite his extensive experience, Bob was shocked by the arrogance and madness of the government troops.

"Wait!" Bob ignored their profanities. "Can you tell me where you're taking these people and what you're going to do with them?"

The soldier smugly kicked a man into the car and replied, "Mr. Lopez was very merciful and sold them life-saving medicine at a loss price of $500, but they actually thought it was too expensive. There's still a war going on at the front. This kind of traitorous behavior must be severely punished!"

$500? Even Europeans can't afford that kind of medicine!

Bob suppressed his anger and kept his tone calm: "How severe should the punishment be?"

The soldier laughed maniacally as he swaggered away: "Lock them in the gas chamber, hahahahaha..."

Seeing the "government forces" acting so recklessly, Bob finally lost his temper—he had to publish a report, immediately, right now, right away!

The title, the title is... yes, the resurgence of fascism!
We must expose the rampant actions of Lopez, this fascist, and his fascist army!

P.S.: Happy Dragon Boat Festival! ~ Please give me a guaranteed monthly vote, my godfathers!
(End of this chapter)