Taxes are only within machine gun range!

Chapter 209 Two people working is faster
I am Milton...

This sentence contained very few words, yet it was so rich in information that it made Beo's mind go blank.

Oh no, it seems to be dying.

In just over a second, the sweat beading on Beo's forehead was already dripping onto the ground.

Milton's voice was calm and gentle, quite unlike the brutal tone of his nickname, "Hell's Tax Collector": "Answer my question, are you very rich?"

The other criminals present were trembling.

The "Hell Tax Collector" appears calm in both appearance and manner of speaking, but he puts immense pressure on anyone who has just been gossiping.

His terror no longer needs to be expressed through language.

Beo was having trouble breathing, and forced a smile that looked more like a grimace: "I... I was just bragging... I wouldn't dare offend you, but I had to say that to keep these henchmen in the prison in check. You know, these guys are all very vicious, I had to come up with an excuse."

At this point, face, influence, and threats are all useless.

What could threaten someone who dared to kill CIASAD? An alien invasion?
Brandon walked up to him, grabbed his chin, slammed it onto the table, and said viciously, "Mr. Khorne is asking where your money is, don't you understand?!"

Milton paused, took a deep breath, but ultimately said nothing.

"I don't have much money, I really don't have much money!" Tears welled up in Beo's eyes. "I was just bluffing! How much is a little bit of food worth..."

Milton sat in his chair, rummaged through the food on his plate, and chuckled at the warden, "You certainly eat better than I do."

The warden shuddered inexplicably, quickly pulled out his stick, and slammed it down on Beo's body several times.

“Speak! Don’t play dumb. Everyone knows you’re not lying. There’s absolutely no way a person without money could produce so much food when Quetzaltenango was besieged a while ago!”

Beo looked at the warden angrily—he even gave some of the food to the warden!

Now this treacherous warden has betrayed me!

“I… actually, I can produce this food not because I have that much money,” Beo argued. “You know, I run gangs in several regions, I can rob other people of their food… Oh, right, right!”

"I used you as an example out of respect, because everyone knows that only your name can keep everything in check!"

“One of my men accidentally discovered Lopez’s hideout while scavenging for food. He killed him and handed his head over to you…”

"I...I didn't even ask for the bounty!"

"We're friends, we should be friends..."

Good heavens, even someone as knowledgeable as Milton has never seen such a fearless and shameless person.

They actually turned around and asked me for money?

No wonder they're a Latin American gang.

Milton put down his spoon, a hint of approval in his eyes for his courage: "Not bad, a real man. Brandon, and the others, get the new energy weapons."

Brandon understood immediately, pulled out his Taser, and fired a shot at Beo.

The other guards, who had been following the warden and were practically being sidelined from the core area of ​​the prison, were also seething with anger. They picked up their stun batons and started hitting Beo with them.

"what……"

“Ah—Ah!!”

"Help! Murder!!!"

"Ahhh!"

"..."

Soon, the aroma of charred meat overpowered the smell of the cafeteria food.

Seeing this, the other gang leaders in the prison hid their food and secretly lay on the ground, trying to make themselves look dirty.

Milton only waved for the guards to leave when Beo actually began to show signs of incoherence.

"Where are the money and the food?"

Beo was on the verge of death, almost crying: "Sir... I really don't have any, please believe me, my last bit of stock is in a few small underground rooms in the city, if you're interested, I'll give it all to you, please stop hitting me, I really don't have any more!"

Seeing how badly he had been beaten, everyone, including the warden and Brandon, looked puzzled.

Is it really gone?

Beo almost suffered an electrocution just now...

Milton sighed and said, "To be honest, you are braver than many people I have ever met. Very few people can stand up after being beaten like this—not even the CIA agents I have met can take a beating as well as you."

Beo looked bewildered: "But I really don't have any more. I can give you anything... But even if you and your people beat me into mincemeat, I still can't give you things that I don't own or that don't exist."

Milton said calmly, "Is that so? If you continue to lie, my men won't be coming with guns next time."

Beo's attitude was humble and aggrieved: "Whatever you brought..."

“Next time, it’ll be some parts from your sister and son,” Milton interrupted Beo. “Do you understand what I mean?”

The grievance on Beo's face and the humility in his eyes vanished instantly.

He tried to stand up immediately, but Milton held him down with one hand. He glared at Milton with extreme anger: "Milton! How dare you! How could you use such despicable and shameless means?! You actually threatened me with an innocent person?!"

"You're the government, how could you... how could you be so unscrupulous?"

"No, that's not right! I sent my son and sister away a long time ago. They're probably sunbathing on a Caribbean beach right now. How could you possibly have caught them? You're lying to me!"

"..."

Milton was even happier upon hearing this.

Milton had only glanced at the man on the panel and discovered that the income from the dirty work he did did was completely inconsistent with the wealth he claimed to have.

Milton didn't know anything about his sister; he only knew he had a son and a sister, and had no idea where they were hiding. He just brought it out to scare Beo and see if Beo had really spent all the money.

Judging from his attitude now, he definitely has more money than he just claimed.

“Why send it anywhere else? Send it towards the Caribbean.” Milton was now truly confident. “You may not know this, but just now, a high-ranking member of the Ubico family called me and we reached a certain consensus.”

"Since you're unwilling to hand over your money, then let your poor child and sister bear the consequences."

"Do you need me to call you now? Of course, my phone bill is very expensive, and if you can't afford it, you'll have to ask a relative to pay for it."

Beo's expression finally changed. He looked at Milton with angry eyes: "I can give you the money, but you must spare my family! You must spare them!"

Milton waved his hand, letting Brandon handle the rest, and then stood up, looking at the other gang leaders in the prison.

"There are always some people who have a strange naiveté that they are the only ones who can use their family members to threaten others, and do not think that others can do the same."

"is it?"

The remaining gang leaders all shrank back.

Milton glanced at them and said, “Right now, I think there are far too few places in the prison… The construction of the new government needs money, a lot of money, and in my opinion, there are far too many people who shouldn’t be alive.”

“I need to increase revenue and reduce expenditure. Every serious offender in prison needs to prove their worth—either by becoming part of increasing revenue or by reducing expenditure.”

"Choose for yourself."

No one could misunderstand Milton.

Either give me money.

Or they could use their deaths to help the new government save money.

Those serious criminals in the lower ranks of the gang immediately showed expressions of despair and pleading, while those of higher status showed a hint of relief.

Flora and Brandon, who were familiar with the ways of the "Hell Tax Collectors," looked at the prison gang "high-ranking officials" who seemed to have some money to buy their lives with a hint of pity on their faces.

Given Milton's style, he's unlikely to back out once he's taken the money, but who says living is necessarily better than dying?

However, these prisoners were no longer thinking about that.

All sorts of horrific tales about Milton flooded their minds—burning people alive, suffocating them in dung carts, crushing them with train tracks, turning them into soap, and parading them through the streets as hangings on chariots…

They drove the government troops into the river, strafed them with aircraft and machine guns, turning the entire river red and terrifying the residents downstream...

Wherever this person goes, a sea of ​​blood follows!
Nobody wants to watch themselves be turned into soap, nobody wants their head to be hung on a car, published in a newspaper, or seen by relatives and friends.

"Roberto! Lend me some money! Lend me some money to save my life!!!"

"Bullshit! Get the hell out of my way! Who do you think you are?! Lend it to me! We're good friends, you know? I'm the one who makes your bed for you every night, and that slut, I begged Beo for her on your behalf! Lend it to me, lend it to me!"

"Lend it to me... I promise to pay it back! Lend it to me today, and I promise to pay you back double in a year!"

"I'll pay three times!"

"Get the hell out of here! Who do you think you are, talking to me like that? Get out, or I'll beat you to death!"

"..."

Soon, these gang members, who had previously appeared to be hierarchical and united, were fighting each other, their eyes filled with murderous intent, looking at each other as if they were their father's killers.

On the contrary, those who were more honest, had the lowest status in prison, and were originally the most bullied minor offenders escaped unscathed.

Milton merely observed the prison riot with a cold eye. After several more corpses appeared on the ground and the fighting had nearly stopped, he finally spoke up: "Are you done fighting? If you're done, then give us the money."

Beo was at the front of the line. With a gloomy face, he gave the names of several gangs' grain storage points and his bank account passwords before turning and leaving.

The other bruised and battered prison gang members had no choice but to come forward one by one and hand over all the money they had hidden away. Milton appeared indifferent, but in reality, he was extremely excited.

[Beo's grain storage and deposits, used as fines for human smuggling and gambling, amount to $98, and add 490 million red points.]

The fine...equivalent to $20...

$8...

$17...

【…】

Watching the money slowly flow into his pocket, Milton suddenly realized just how many corrupt officials and big fish were hiding in the prison.

If the warden hadn't called to ask for funding, these people might have continued their carefree lives for quite some time!
After the wealthy criminals were herded into a small hut, Milton looked at the gangsters who hadn't paid to save their lives.

Everyone looked at Milton with pleading, pitiful eyes, hoping he would show mercy and spare the lives of these unarmed men.

Some gang members even knelt down, wailing and crying, saying that they still had family members to support, that they were forced into it, and so on.

You couldn't tell at all from the arrogance they displayed when they bullied others.

Brandon didn't look at them, but asked in a low voice, "Boss, did you kill them all?"

“Kill them,” Milton said. “They cried not because they knew they were wrong, but because they knew they were going to die.”

"I believe that when they killed other innocent people, when they stole food from widows and children, and when they wantonly abused the body of some poor girl, others showed the same expression as them."

Did they spare those people's lives?

"Those are all my tax revenue sources!"

"If regret were useful, there would be no criminals in the world, and no one would be executed."

Brandon nodded in deep agreement—having worked his way up from a small-town cop, he had seen far too many such cases, far too many criminals who looked pitiful one second and drew their guns the next. He simply couldn’t empathize with these people.

"Kill them! Reduce the burden on the prisons!"

Boom boom boom!
A barrage of gunfire erupted, and cold bullets flew everywhere in the cafeteria. The criminals screamed in agony, trying to escape but not knowing where to go. In the end, not one of them could escape the bullets.

Every single person carries a blood debt on their shoulders!
The fact that they outnumbered the rest meant that even after a volley of rifle bullets, they couldn't be executed. In the end, the warden volunteered to lead the guards to move all the remaining people into one room, and Milton brought in a car with a machine gun. After a long barrage of machine gun fire, they finally managed to kill them all.

Blood was everywhere!
There was no river next to Quetzaltenango Prison, but today the blood of the dead has turned into a dark red stream!
Looking at the horrific scene, the warden exclaimed dramatically, "The sound of 'firecrackers' from the firing range went on for a whole day and night!"

The prisoners watching were terrified, especially Beo—he was now actually starting to feel a little fortunate that he had only been slightly disrespectful in his words, and that the money had been paid readily.

Otherwise, his fate would probably not be much better.

The massacre lasted for a full half hour.

While the prison guards were collecting the bodies, Beo couldn't help but look at the warden and ask, "Um, Mr. Warden, can we go back now...? We haven't finished eating yet."

The warden didn't even bother to look at him, but simply stopped what he was doing and looked at Milton.

Were the prisons in the past privately owned?

The warden nodded slightly: "The Lopez government found running prisons too troublesome, so they directly outsourced it to private companies... This is also the reason why the prison's finances are about to collapse, because the shareholders either ran away or were killed by you."

“Very good. From now on, prisons will be under the government’s ownership.” Milton waved his hand. “Or rather, from now on, any project involving the judiciary, law enforcement, administration, major strategic resources, and people’s livelihoods must be taken over by the government and be wholly owned by the government.”

Marketization is certainly necessary, but how can industries that are inherently monopolistic, such as power plants and prisons, be privatized?
Privatization is still a complete monopoly, with no competition whatsoever. Instead, it hands over these important projects that shouldn't be measured by profit.

Moreover, prisons are not simply places where criminals are imprisoned.

For those who can be reformed, they should be transformed into sources of tax revenue; for those who cannot be reformed, their labor should be exploited so that they can contribute their last bit of strength to society and also contribute some tax revenue to Milton's panel.

Finally, for completely non-recyclable waste, it's simply shot.

The warden sighed: "I think that's exactly how it should be... Prisons hold criminals, but that doesn't mean they don't need any regulations."

"Hmm... what do you plan to do with these people who paid the money to save their lives?"

"Their private cells and meals can't continue, so, should they be treated as ordinary criminals?"

Milton immediately shook his head: "According to the law, these people should all be killed. How can they be treated as ordinary criminals?"

They should all be wiped out...

The warden thought for a moment and said in a low voice, "So, you mean, after today's events are over, we should find an excuse and a suitable place to secretly kill them all?"

Milton looked at the warden with amusement: "Why do you think I didn't immediately kill these people who were clearly more wicked?"

The warden didn't quite understand. After thinking for a moment, he said, "Uh, do they have value in uniting the people? Because they can alleviate financial pressure, so they need to be won over to a certain extent, otherwise it would be a lose-lose situation?"

Milton shook his head: "Wrong! It's just because I have a more suitable way to punish them—one bullet, and they'll only feel pain for a short while before they're completely dead. What does that kind of punishment mean to them personally?"

"Even if I use the most terrible methods and sink them into a cesspool, they will only be tortured for a few minutes."

"For me, death is far from the highest level of punishment."

“Strip them of their wealth, make them live in misery, and at the same time make them continue to create value for me—that is the ultimate form of punishment.”

The warden swallowed hard and asked in a low voice, "So, what do you plan to do?"

“Perfect timing, isn’t there a banana factory near the prison?” Milton said slowly. “Let these people pick bananas… well, starting today, in a bit.”

"Remember, the person with the worst work performance will have their food reduced accordingly."

The warden thought for a moment and then said, "But this would lead to a vicious cycle for those with the worst work performance, and they might eventually be worked to death... Uh, I understand. Sorry for being so talkative."

The "Hell Tax Collectors" had no intention of letting these people live unless they were "evil and tyrannical"!

After exhausting them to death, Milton might even gloat over cutting off their heads and hanging them on the armored vehicle.

That's terrible... Lopez's loss was entirely deserved!

Milton added, "If there are any missions that require sending people to their deaths, we can use small favors like reduced sentences or increased rations to send these scum to their deaths instead of sacrificing our brave warriors."

"Practice is always better than theory. Come on, take them to the plantation. Let's see how motivated they are."

The warden nodded silently and quickly ordered the guards to arrest the high-ranking members of the prison gang and take them to a nearby banana plantation that Milton had confiscated.

The bewildered gang leaders were kicked down, still somewhat confused about what had happened.

A prison guard shouted sternly, "Don't think you're safe just because you've paid the money! If you want to live, paying one sum isn't enough. You have to keep paying for the 'hellish tax collectors' every single day, forever, to buy your life, understand?!"

"Now, all of you, get to work!"

The gang leaders were all indignant, but the other side was too powerful, so they dared not say anything and could only bury their heads and pick bananas.

Of course, whispering among themselves was also inevitable.

"Ha... I knew it wouldn't be that simple!"

"What do we do? Should we just keep working for him like this...?"

"Is that possible? Milton is a madman. He'll definitely pull some kind of bottom-ranking elimination system. Whoever doesn't do enough work will have their food cut off!"

"If things continue like this, won't it become vicious competition, won't it become involution? Will we have to work ourselves to the bone just for a little food?"

"Ah, I have a way..."

"any solution?"

"It's simple. We can all just not go all out. We can work for him, but mainly we should conserve our energy. We can take turns putting in the least effort each day, how about that? Anyway, we don't get paid, and no matter how much we do, it's Milton's anyway, so why bother working so hard?"

"Okay, let's do it this way!"

"..."

The warden, who had been observing for a while, whispered to Milton, "Sir, they seem to be engaging in nonviolent non-cooperation?"

Milton had anticipated this situation, and he said, "Have you ever heard the saying that two people can work faster than one?"

"Huh?" The warden didn't understand. "Should we pair them up? Would that even work?"

“No, it means you take the whip and whip anyone who doesn’t work hard enough, so they’ll be more efficient,” Milton explained. “Film this scene and spread it around—tell everyone that drug trafficking, tax evasion, human trafficking…this is the consequence.”

The warden took out his whip, nodded, and said, "I understand..."

Soon, a prison guard came up behind Beo, who was paddling, and gave him a hard whipping.

Just as Milton said, two people work much faster. After Beo let out a scream, he picked bananas much, much faster.

"See? I told you so."

As Milton watched with satisfaction as the criminals voluntarily worked, reformed their minds, and made selfless contributions to society, Brandon walked over, holding a phone in his hand.

“'Boss,' Veronica is looking for you.”

Milton looked away, took the phone, and asked, "Veronica?"

"Boss, our first batch of 'Border Region Currency' has arrived... This batch is just for emergency use; we'll handle the printing ourselves from now on."

"Then, as soon as the new currency arrived, before it was even issued... food on the market began to be snapped up at an alarming rate."

"It's probably those grain merchants and Arsu who want to profit from the national crisis; they want to destroy our economy."

(End of this chapter)