Taxes are only within machine gun range!

Chapter 80 This is what you call luck

Deep in the old streets, in a secluded house filled with slot machines.

Several people sat on the sofa, their faces showing signs of tension.

They originally sought Milton's help to avoid being taken advantage of, and upon hearing that Pedro was showing goodwill and wanted to negotiate, they immediately agreed.

They certainly didn't have the guts to betray Milton for the time being, and they could even obey Milton's orders to a certain extent.

But the premise is that there really is an external enemy that no one can resist.

A significant portion of these people's "nervousness" stemmed from their hope that the peace talks would be completed quickly and that order would be restored to the old streets so they could continue doing business.

The clanging and clattering of the slot machines in the casino mirrored their mood at that moment.

"I think you all don't need to be so nervous."

“Some people saw that there were two armored vehicles with machine guns and at least 20 people at the peace talks site. In any case, the advantage is on our side.”

"Even if the peace talks fail, Milton will definitely be severely damaged, or even wiped out."

"You and I both know that he only looks fierce, but he has never actually fought against a truly powerful person."

"Just stay here and wait for good news."

The tension on the face of the other, much older man eased slightly.

He took a drag of his cigarette, his wrinkles deepening, and nodded with a wry smile.

"There's nothing I can do... I've never encountered anything like this before. Milton is really different from those other gang leaders."

"He offended the gang, the checkpoint, and the police, yet he still managed to survive for so long! He even dared to attack the checkpoint and then frame Fan Kang for it, and most importantly, he actually succeeded."

"But I'm getting old, I don't have the energy to do anything, and I don't have much time left. I just want to do some small business and earn some money..."

Everyone else nodded in agreement.

"To be honest, I actually hope this peace talks fail. When Milton is killed, we can take over 'Boss's' pharmacy. That's no small amount of money."

"Cash, assets, women, living people... all can be exchanged for money."

"Give one portion to the police station, one portion to the checkpoint, and one portion to the gang... they should stop bothering us."

"Yes, we should quickly seek peace. As long as they let us go, we can slowly earn the money back."

"..."

The people were still chatting when a customer near a slot machine suddenly let out a shrill scream, his hands trembling as he rolled off the stool and stumbled over, interrupting their conversation.

His eyes were wide open, bloodshot and his expression was tinged with madness.

"...Lend me another 50, no, 20 dollars!"

The old man flicked the ash from his cigarette and touched a pistol on the table: "Roger, I remember you owe me almost $500... It's not easy for me to run a small business, so pay back the money you owed before you borrow any more."

Roger glanced back sharply, worried that someone else might have taken his slot machine, and continued to plead, "Just 20, believe me! You saw it yourself, the jackpot is already very high, it won't be long before you win the big prize! You can get your debt back! You're just one step away from winning it all back!"

"What other collateral can you offer? I remember you already mortgaged one of your kidneys to me for that last $50, didn't you?"

"me……"

dong dong dong.

Just then, there was a knock on the iron door of the "convenience store".

The old man stood up, stepped over Roger, and ignored his wailing.

"The time is almost up, the negotiations should be over, and hopefully it will be the result we want to see."

As he spoke, he reached for the door. But before his hand even touched the doorknob, the bolt suddenly burst open, the entire door was kicked off, and he was slammed to the ground.

"Checkpoint! Open the gate! Collect taxes!"

"Everyone, put your hands where we can see you, and don't move!"

In a small room in the distance, a person suddenly stood up and instinctively reached for the pistol on the table.

The next instant, a hail of bullets swept in, and the sound of gunpowder exploding almost shook the entire house to its core!
Three seconds later, the gunfire stopped, and the men who had just been chatting and laughing were now a pile of minced meat.

Milton led a group of menacing men straight into the underground casino, and before stepping over the door, he didn't forget to fire a shot at the people below—because he didn't show his hands.

As for the objective circumstances under which he could expose his hands, that was not within Milton's consideration.

Milton didn't look at the corpses scattered on the ground or the gamblers who were trembling with fear.

"We found a lot of illegally imported gambling machines, sealed off the site, and seized them all."

“Luz, Matteo, you two go and inform everyone in the old street that I’m giving them an hour to see me.”

"If you don't come in an hour, you never need to come again."

"Everyone else, follow me and search."

After coldly finishing his words, Milton picked up his gun and started to walk forward.

At this moment, Roger, who had been lying on the ground, cautiously raised his head. Seeing that Milton had no intention of killing anyone and that they were about to confiscate all the slot machines, his fear was immediately suppressed, and he quickly said, "'Hell Tax Collectors'! I'm a victim too! They only borrowed $300 from me, but they want me to pay back $500!"

"They drove me to the brink of desperation, I couldn't even afford the interest, and in the end I was forced to come to the casino to try my luck... Please, just let me get my share back, I, I can pay my share of the taxes!"

"Please, this little bit of money is nothing to you, but without it, I really won't be able to survive!"

He spoke with tears streaming down his face, his fingers trembling; such despair was clearly not something that could be faked.

Milton stopped and looked at Roger.

After observing for a while, Milton finally said, "Have you ever heard the saying, 'A gambler's only job is to lose everything'? Do you think I would believe a gambler's words?"

“I know you’re kind,” Roger said, tears streaming down his face. He even wanted to climb up and lick Milton’s filthy boots. “I have children at home…”

Milton deactivated the panel's inspection function and calmly asked, "Really? Didn't you exchange your child for $50 chips a long time ago?"

Perhaps the gambler's despair is real, and so is his regret... but once they sit in front of the slot machine, these emotions are suppressed by the symbols on the machine.

Never trust gamblers; they'll do anything and tell any lie for the slightest hope of "winning back their losses."

Roger froze on the spot, feeling the gazes that suddenly turned from pity to contempt, and his whole body began to tremble uncontrollably.

Milton, too lazy to bother with this useless man any longer, decided to continue walking forward.

"Then, lend me $10! ​​I'll win it all back right away, really! I've been studying that machine for a long time, it's about to give out the grand prize!"

This is a hopeless gambler. He may still have a little shame, but as soon as he thinks about "winning back his losses," it's hard for him to think of anything useful anymore.

Roger instinctively grabbed a chip that had fallen to the ground and pleaded, "If I win it all back, I promise to give you back $20... no, $30! You have to believe in my luck!"

Milton glanced at the chips in his hand, then raised his gun and fired three shots at the cross lock of a slot machine.

Then he kicked the slot machine a few times, pulled out the damaged cash box, and dumped all the chips on the ground.

The pleasant sound of chips clattering onto the tray suddenly seemed so worthless.

"That's what you call luck."

(End of this chapter)