Daily life of an American TV drama agent

"Arthur, are you sure these people are all from Killer Company? How come no one survived?"

Ron asked on the intercom. I was thinking of waiting for them to hurt each other and come out to take advantage, but I didn't expect that all of them died in an explosion? Can this guy be called a killer?

"This is the worst class I have ever seen." Arthur covered his face, unable to bear to look at it. A killer of this level was not qualified to perform tasks independently in his original company, let alone join the cleanup team.

The house was in ruins. The Smiths, who had survived the disaster, pushed aside the wooden boards covering their bodies and got out, looking at the ruins in a daze.

"Both of you," Ron's voice suddenly appeared behind them, and the two of them immediately attacked him reflexively. Mr. Smith's fist went straight to the door, followed closely by Mrs. Smith's finger.

Ron immediately raised his knees and turned sideways, knocking the lady's vaginal foot away with a knee strike. Then he grabbed Mr. Smith's fist with his hands and used the inertia of his sideways to twist his whole body in the air and knock him down to the ground.

Mrs. Smith on the other side missed a hit and was taking out a kitchen knife to continue the attack, but was put to the head with a pistol. At this point, both of them were defeated.

Ron rolled his eyes. He looked so weak? Why does everyone want to pinch it?

"Don't worry, I have no ill intentions towards you. If I really wanted to kill you, I would have let a sniper blow your heads off just now," Ron shouted loudly: "Hank, say hello to our lovely Smith family! "

"Bang!" There was a crisp sound, and the bullet grazed Mr. Smith's scalp and made a small hole on the ground in front of him. Mr. Smith, who was still struggling, immediately became obedient, and Ron let go of his hand with satisfaction.

"Okay, if you're not with those killers, what do you want from us?"

"Money, a lot of money," Ron gently adjusted his suit, which had been wrinkled due to strenuous exercise.

"Formally introduce yourself, Ron Lee Cooper, Captain of the IRS Special Operations Team. Do you... no, I mean, does your company pay taxes?"

"Hahaha, I don't know when the killer company will start paying taxes." Mr. Smith felt as if he had heard the biggest joke in the world.

"Do you need to pay taxes when you are a killer? I have never paid a penny."

When he said this, his tone was so proud that Mrs. Smith couldn't help but cover her face.

Why did I fall in love with such a fool back then?

"Well, thank you for your confession, Mr. Smith. Maybe you can go to my accountant tomorrow to calculate your income over the years and pay the tax you owe."

The money was given to his face, and it would be too much to refuse to accept it, so Ron could only agree.

"In the great United States of America, no business can avoid paying taxes, even killers. If you can assist me in conducting tax investigations on your respective companies, I am willing to provide protection for your future lives, provided that join us."

The two of them looked at each other, with an incredible look in their eyes. Originally, they planned to find a place to wander around after killing the killer to avoid the subsequent pursuit. Unexpectedly, the most troublesome problem before was actually solved by Ron inadvertently. Was it resolved in time?

Of course, they never doubted the authenticity of Ron's words. In the United States, everyone knows the power of the IRS.

And just like Arthur back then, a chance to clear his name is rare and precious for these killers who are wandering in the darkness.

Mrs. Smith immediately grabbed this life-saving straw and immediately replied impatiently: "We are willing to join, how do you plan to protect us? Our original company is very powerful and will continuously send killers to hunt us down. For example, if you show up later What are you going to do with those three cars?"

Mrs. Smith pointed behind Ron. Three cars turned out of the corner and were driving towards them quickly. Ron turned around indifferently and compared his hand to a pistol.

"Their cars are bulletproof..." Mrs. Smith stopped mid-sentence.

Because as Ron made a "pop~" sound to dub the gun, making a shooting motion, a cannonball immediately flew out from an unknown angle on the street and hit the car in the middle.

"Boom~" The car turned into a huge fireball and flew into the sky. Mrs. Smith opened her mouth in surprise, because from the other side of the street, an old Sherman tank was emerging from the grass, and the shell just now was its masterpiece.

"What did you just say? What happened to the car?" Ron turned around.

"I said the car was for defense..." Mrs. Smith immediately changed her tune mid-sentence: "No, I said it was nothing."

A wave of curse words in various languages ​​immediately erupted from the car on the opposite side. The killers were so desperate that they wanted to curse!

I'm just hunting down a traitor, why not bring out all the tanks?

However, while they were swearing and swearing, their hands were not idle. The remaining two cars immediately swerved on the road, turned their heads, stepped on the accelerator to the bottom, and prepared to escape.

Not even the thought of resisting.

What a joke! Even though it's an old thing left over from World War II, a tank is a tank! No matter how bulletproof a car is, can it be compared to a tank? Don't die!

Unfortunately, these few seconds of delay were enough for the Sherman's 76mm main gun to be reloaded. The turret squeaked and turned, and the muzzle was immediately pointed at one of the vehicles again.

"Boom!" One shot entered the soul and blew the car into the sky again.

The other car finally took this opportunity to speed up and ran around the corner. The tank also stopped when it caught up to Ron. The roof opened and a head full of white hair poked out.

"This feels great. This thing is exactly the same as the car I drove when I joined the army."

"As long as you are satisfied. If you like it, this car will be your personal car from now on. No one among us will drive this thing except you. Dr. Hannibal, welcome to join us and become a formal member."

Ron waved his hand at the top: "Don't worry, all his procedures have been filed with the military department. You can drive it on the road legally. I believe no one will open your eyes and cause trouble for you. This big guy It’s enough for everyone to learn to respect the elderly and love the young.”

The Sherman tank has a complete crew of five, and at least three people can drive it. In addition to the experienced Hannibal and "Morgan Freeman", the last crew member is Carl Jr.

There is nothing wrong with respecting the elderly and loving the young.

"Damn it! %U*(I # $" Mr. Smith cursed a series of curse words for a long time and finally took a breath: "You call this thing a car?! Are you crazy? How dare you drive this thing into a residential area? !You will definitely get complaints!”