Chapter 9: Tax Revenue Only Within Machine Gun Range! Chapter 8: Used and Discarded

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Protagonist:

Milton

Mins

Splash splash...

In a street piled with garbage, dilapidated and foul-smelling, several figures came and went, carrying bottles and jars, stepping quickly through black wastewater.

They all deliberately hunched their backs and shrank their bodies, unwilling to let others see their faces, and subconsciously took defensive postures.

This was Maracan Town's poorest, dirtiest, most chaotic place—but also where goods were most abundant.

Everyone here called it Old Street.

Countless items unavailable through normal channels, or simply illegal, were brought here by smugglers of all kinds.

Even many of the "customers" here came from other cities.

Desire, money, despair, corruption, sin...

All bred and spread in this stench.

In the black market, nothing was untradeable.

Anything, including life, had a price tag.

Boom boom boom!

A man in a trench coat stepped through sewage to a rusted iron door and knocked three times rhythmically.

Five or six seconds later, the small window on the iron door was pulled open, emitting a piercing screech.

A hoarse voice full of caution came through: "Who?"

"Me."

"Brandon?!" The person inside clearly hadn't expected the visitor's identity. "Why are you here so early today? Aren't you afraid your colleagues will find out?"

Brandon! That police officer who had just run into Milton at the fruit stand!

He hadn't gone on "patrol" at all; after leaving the fruit stand, he came straight here!

The "lecherous" and "corrupt" aura on Brandon's face vanished completely. He lowered his voice: "I ran into some trouble today. My colleague was pulled away by a temporary task."

The person inside grumbled while opening the iron door, glanced left and right to make sure there was no tail, then let Brandon in, complaining at the same time: "Even if your partner left, there are still other police officers."

"No, most of the police force will be drawn away by another big thing right away," Brandon replied. "We're very safe. Shawn, I'm far more professional than you. Don't question me."

While they spoke, they had already arrived at a sewer entrance.

"Fine, fine..." Old Shawn smiled wryly and shook his head, bending down to unlock the door. "The big thing you mentioned—what is it?"

No sooner had he spoken than an explosion sound from afar reached everyone's ears.

Old Shawn turned around in shock, seeing black smoke and fire shooting into the sky!

Immediately after, several piercing siren screams wailed past!

Shawn looked at him like a stranger, shocked: "You... this... this was you?"

"Not me, but I got some news from the Fan Kang Gang beforehand," Officer Brandon said. "Anyway, he's also a scumbag. Your daughter will be very happy to hear this news, won't she?"

Earlier, when Brandon said "Old Shawn's daughter" at the fruit stand, his partner officer wore that lecherous expression because that partner was a rapist.

That officer was also the culprit behind Shawn's daughter still needing drug treatment to this day.

Hearing this, Shawn's expression changed—with pain and gratitude, but not a bit of the joy of avenging a great wrong.

It was too late.

And this rare good officer before him seemed to be sinking deeper and deeper.

"Brandon, you'd better stay away from those Fan Kang Gang people... otherwise, sooner or later you'll be dragged into the water. They're not good people."

"I've distanced myself from them. Then who gets the medicine? Who asks for news? Who acts as your protection umbrella at the police station? There's a problem at Border Inspection, and now medicine prices have multiplied how many times? I can't afford any more accidents on my end," Brandon shook his head. "And it's too late anyway—I've already been dragged into the water."

A problem at Border Inspection...

Smuggled medicine couldn't get in—just now that inspector had seized a pack of confiscated drugs.

Those coming through other channels were not only expensive but also incomplete in variety.

Everyone could feel that a storm was about to arrive.

After walking through winding, complex narrow paths deep into the last room of the sewer, Brandon waved his hand: "That's far enough. The next matter, I need to discuss with the 'Boss'."

Shawn hunched his body and slowly walked away: "Officer, take care of your health..."

Brandon fell silent for a while, then pushed the door open and entered.

Before him was a figure whose face was indistinct, his whole person hidden in darkness.

He was also the biggest drug dealer in this area. No one knew his name; they only knew his codename was "Boss."

"Boss" asked briefly: "How's the medicine import situation? When can it return to normal?"

"Trending toward stability, but there will be big moves. It's an internal matter at Border Inspection," Brandon sighed. "The problem is that our connection network at Border Inspection might all be invalidated."

It was because he had hooked up with Menard and the Fan Kang Gang that they could smuggle so much medicine.

Until a truckload of medicine was seized, causing Menard and the Fan Kang Gang heavy losses and directly leading to turmoil at the Border Inspection station itself, did their smuggling costs rise sharply.

"Boss" had little emotion in his voice: "Starting today, medicine prices rise 20%, as the cost of rebuilding the connection network. This is a necessary expense. Our medicines are all pirated counterfeits and cannot go through normal import procedures."

"Medicine prices have nearly tripled during this period... I'm worried..."

Boom boom boom...

While the two were chatting, the door behind them was knocked on, and a little girl carefully walked in.

Seeing the visitor, Brandon's expression softened somewhat.

"Liya, buying medicine again?"

This is the young girl from that fruit stand just now!

"Uncle Brandon!" Liya smiled and nodded, in a good mood, "Good afternoon! How was my acting just now?"

Brandon chuckled: "Slightly a bit flawed, but not obvious."

The "Boss" obviously also knew Liya; he didn't have much nonsense, directly opened his mouth and said: "Liya, Glibenclamide, 160 Quetzal."

"160?!" Liya turned her head and exclaimed, "How did it get expensive again."

The question just left her mouth, and in her mind floated up the "spoils" that Inspector gentleman had just seized.

She actually knew, Uncle Brandon and the "Boss" hadn't earned much money from them.

But Inspector gentleman is also a good person...

They're all not wrong... then who exactly is wrong?

The emotions on the young girl's face fell quite a bit, voice low as she asked: "20 US Dollars... is that okay?"

Brandon suddenly interjected: "Where did you get US Dollars?"

"That... Inspector gentleman gave them, said it was compensation for the fruit stand." Liya hurriedly explained, "Uncle Brandon, Inspector gentleman is also a good person, he didn't bully me."

Could tell... you don't have any injuries on you, just crying a bit, only that Police Officer who got blown up just now that kind of brain-dead stupid trash would think Milton did something bad.

The "Boss" interrupted the two's conversation: "US Dollars are fine."

He checked the banknotes for authenticity, then handed the medicine bottle over.

"Hurry home, it's not safe here at night."

Liya carefully took the medicine bottle, nodded vigorously, turned and left the room.

"I'll go home after I finish eating here!"

The iron gate was shut, and the room was shrouded in darkness again.

Ten-odd seconds later, Brandon then laughed self-mockingly: "A good person?"

The "Boss" spoke faintly: "Good people don't live long here."

"Hope the storm passes quickly." Brandon shook his head, "There's only one thing we need to do, hide ourselves well, wait for everything to end, for medicine imports to return to normal, find a new protective umbrella."

One "good person" Inspector, fundamentally cannot solve the problem.

Even if he really killed Fan Kang Gang's assassins, really survived the reshuffle conflict at the Border Inspection, so what?

Without Fan Kang Gang, there will still be Fan En Gang.

Without Station Chief Varta, there will still be Station Chief Menard.

Except for changing a name, nothing will change at all.

While the two chatted, another man wearing tattered clothes, with fatigue in his eyes, walked in, bought medicine as usual.

The "Boss" put away the money, took out medicine, said indifferently: "Your illness is about cured, from now on focus on recuperation, no need to come again."

"Good! Good! Thank you, Boss! Thank you, Officer Brandon!"

The man thanked profusely, took the medicine and left, quietly shut the door.

Click.

Vroom vroom vroom...

Hearing the lock bolt catch the latch behind him, hearing the motorcycle engine roars coming from outside the district, this man's face suddenly darkened, expression changing repeatedly, as if hesitating, struggling.

Just now the "Boss" and Brandon's conversation, he hid in the corner outside the door and secretly listened to.

Heard a lot.

His illness was cured, but to buy medicine he also emptied his savings, owed a buttload of debt.

So, he produced a bold idea.

Could he report the "Boss" and this Black Pharmacy, exchange for a sum of bounty or intelligence fee from the Inspector side?

If successful, not only could he pay off his debts, perhaps he could even have surplus, surplus to support him running to the United States!

In the past, he fundamentally wouldn't dare have this thought — whether at the Police Station or the Checkpoint, the Black Pharmacy had protective umbrellas, who dared harbor such thoughts?

But now, the Border Inspection has problems, the Black Pharmacy's relationship network there is temporarily paralyzed!

This is an extremely rare window period, if missed, once the "Boss" buys through a new relationship network, reporting not only won't work, might even make him lose his life.

The man gritted his teeth, suddenly face turned ruthless: "Do it!"

As for how the "Boss" and Brandon would fare; how those patients who lost life-saving medicine would suffer torture; how that little girl would live after losing her father, whether she could only climb onto men's beds, barely survive under gang extortion, finally die covered in STDs, he fundamentally didn't go think about it.

Doesn't care either.

What do other people's matters have to do with him?

Good people don't live long here.