Daily life of an American TV drama agent

When they heard the name IRS, Mark's men were shocked, and the hands holding the guns couldn't help but tremble.

Even if you are a CIA agent, you still have to eat, and you have to deal with taxes in life. If you can't pay your taxes, of course the IRS will come to your door with a rocket launcher and remind you kindly.

It can be said that the instinctive fear of IRS is engraved in the DNA of Americans, just like the Chinese people think of the Spring Festival Gala when the Chinese New Year arrives, and want to play mahjong when they watch the Spring Festival Gala.

When Mark saw that the morale of the army was shaken, he quickly yelled: "Don't believe him! He is fake, he is not the IRS, but a terrorist. We are in an anti-terrorist operation now, commando! Where is the commando? Come on! Kill him !”

While shouting for his men to attack, Mark lowered his body even though it was more than a hundred meters from where he stood to the small warehouse where Ron was hiding. According to the shooting accuracy of the pistol, at this distance There is no longer any accuracy at all.

Ron couldn't help but chuckle inwardly. This idiot seemed to have really done his homework and knew that he was a good marksman.

But what's the use of knowing this? Ron was no longer alone. Ron took out his cell phone and dialed the number he had prepared.

"You... mobile phone?" Daniel looked at Ron's hand and was shocked: "Didn't they all be taken away just now? Where did you take it out again?"

"Secret, as an IRS, isn't it normal to be able to do a little magic?"

"It's normal, it couldn't be more normal." Daniel agreed, but secretly pouted in his heart. I believe you, you were the FBI just now, and now you will become the IRS. Who knows who you are? I now seriously doubt that the name Hobbes is fake.

Ron didn't bother to care about what Daniel was thinking. He took off the car's rearview mirror and used the reflection of the mirror to observe the outside. He saw a faint crowd of people behind the surrounding obstructions, and a sneer appeared at the corner of his mouth.

I thought Mark would finally learn to be smarter after what happened last time, but he was still so stupid. Ron put the phone to his mouth and said, "He still doesn't know how to live or die, Hank, give them some clues."

As soon as he finished speaking, the two leading agents of the commando team who were outflanking Ron from the left and right sides were suddenly knocked away by a huge force. When his companion went to check, he found a purple bruise on his body.

"There are snipers! Be careful!"

Los Angeles is Ron's home field. As early as Ron finished LOS, he had already sent a signal to Hank to bring people over. Mark's CIA team happened to fall into the ambush that Ron had arranged for him.

"Take cover nearby! Get down!" Mark yelled, but it was too late. Gunshots rang out from the tops of the warehouses on both sides at the same time. Bullets were fired from the high schools on both sides. The CIA agents were like lambs waiting to be slaughtered. One fell to the ground and cried.

What Hank and the others used were not real bullets, but rubber bullets commonly used by prison guards. They would automatically deform when they hit a person and would not be injected into the human body, thus greatly reducing the possibility of death.

After all, this is just a battle for regional dominance between the IRS and the CIA. Except for Washington, D.C., the three major agencies have different actual control in each place. The default unspoken rule is that if one party has an absolute advantage in a region, then When the other two companies are doing things, they should respect his opinions to a certain extent.

And if this kind of fight causes large-scale casualties, no one can bear it, not even Ron. Mark sent his men to attack with the intention of passing the blame to the drug dealers.

But that doesn't mean Ron can't teach the other person a little lesson.

After all, even rubber bullets are still bullets. With the large amount of kinetic energy brought by the gunpowder, they are no different than being hit by a hammer, which can range from a bruise to a broken several bones.

The gunshots started in an instant, and then disappeared in an instant, as if everything that happened just now did not exist, except for the CIA agents lying on the ground, whose injuries confirmed the abuse they had just suffered.

"I have long said that Los Angeles is my territory, and you have crossed the line again, Mark, and this time you actually want to kill me. How should I punish you?"

Ron walked directly out from behind the bunker. At this moment, all CIA agents had been knocked to the ground, including Mark.

He was lying on the ground in a state of embarrassment, with a large purple patch on his bald head, which was shot by Hank with a sniper rifle. When he saw Ron, he suddenly became extremely jealous: "You... what do you want? Let me tell you, even if you throw me into the black community again and let people fuck me, I won’t be afraid!”

The painful experience last time caused Mark to have a serious psychological shadow on Ron, and he couldn't help but tremble when he spoke.

Ron shook his head: "I haven't said anything yet, and you take the initiative to go to the black community to be fucked. Sometimes I can't figure out whether you came to Los Angeles to grab territory or to sell your ass. However, since you made the request, it seems a bit inappropriate not to satisfy you.”

"Hank! Hank!"

A slightly plump bald man stood on top of the warehouse: "What's the matter? BOSS?"

"I leave this to you, just do as he says. Also, don't forget to send his colleagues to accompany him. For the sake of the precious time of the black compatriots, remember to take off their clothes in advance. In addition, , considering the prices in the area and their good looks, don’t forget to hang a small tube around their necks with 50 cents written on it.”

"No problem, BOSS." Hank agreed with a ferocious smile. It had to be said that after hanging out with Ron for so long, he had already learned bad things.

"You devil! Kill me if you can..." Mark's yelling continued, but Ron had already walked away, leaving only Daniel and Hank looking at his back...

Ron arrived home just in time for Sheldon to come back from get off work.

"Why aren't you with Leonard today? You finally drove by yourself?" Luo Cheng asked strangely.

Sheldon has a driver's license, but due to his strange brain circuitry and poor driving skills, he never drives by himself. He always goes to and from get off work with Leonard, and sometimes Amy drives him back.

"We came back together, but he took Penny out on a date again. Let me tell you, he will never win the Nobel Prize with his careless attitude towards science... Hey! Look, Luo Well, this published the popular science magazine "Scientific American" where Leonard and I co-wrote the paper. Maybe my evaluation just now was a bit arbitrary, and he might not be that bad."

"Yeah?"

Ron didn't believe that Sheldon's venomous tongue would suddenly turn around, and sure enough, the turning point came in the next sentence.

"Of course, although he may have no chance of real physics in his life, if he goes to teach in a middle school, he will definitely become a good teacher. The prerequisite is to teach history, a subject that only requires parroting and repeating other people's words instead of physics."

A month ago, Sheldon and Leonard co-wrote a paper, which was a great success in the physics community. Principal Hibbert even mentioned it when he invited Ron to dinner.

"Let me see your paper." Ron reached out and took the magazine from Sheldon's hand, and Sheldon's face showed confusion.

"I'm not sure you can understand it. This is one of the most cutting-edge scientific journals, and we all know that you are just a PhD in humanities. With all due respect, physics may not be your expertise."

"Sheldon," Ron glared at him: "I'm not sure how deep I understand theoretical physics, but my understanding of experimental physics must be deeper than yours. For example, how should you design an experiment if you stuff your shoe into your ass? Thank you. Dun, do you want me to experiment?"

Under the pressure from animals higher up the food chain, Sheldon immediately shut up.

"Wait a minute, Sheldon, this article doesn't mention Leonard at all."

Sheldon didn't believe it: "How is that possible?"

"I'm pretty sure it only says 'Dr. Sheldon and his team'. Did you mention him during the interview?" Ron was deeply suspicious of Sheldon's integrity.

"I answered a few questions about our theory and expressed my gratitude that Scientific American never included a bad-smelling perfume card."

"Leonard is so pitiful." Ron shook his head.

Sheldon was puzzled: "How pitiful is it? The theory he came up with was published by Scientific American. He should be so happy that he can fly."

"I don't think he should feel bad." Ron looked at Sheldon's confused expression and knew that he really didn't understand, so he could only continue to remind: "Think about it, if one day, you are killed by someone What would you think of being brushed off and just being called 'a member of Dr. Leonard's team'?"

"I will definitely be very angry with them!"

"So, do you understand what's going on?" Ron spread his hands and inspired.

Sheldon was unsure: "Can a crying child be fed milk?"

"Kill me! How could I have a brother like you? If you had one-tenth of Missy's emotional intelligence, you wouldn't have been beaten so many times when you were a child, Sheldon," Ron rolled his eyes and simply Announce the correct answer: "You have made equal contributions to the paper, but the paper only mentions you. He will not be happy."

"But it's not my fault. I didn't intentionally not mention him, and I didn't write this report." Sheldon said, blinking his big eyes innocently.

"Okay, let me put it another way," Ron sighed: "Remember the last time I took you to Disneyland, they didn't choose you, but chose another child to pull out the sword in the stone?"

Sheldon gritted his teeth: "That dead kid! Oh! Poor Leonard."

"Oh my god, you finally understand." Sheldon was taught empathy, and Ron felt full of accomplishment.

"But I have to say, choosing that kid was a really bad decision. If you cry when your churros fall to the ground, you have no ability to rule Britain."

"Yes, but I think that a giant baby who is sick at the age of twenty and needs his mother to drink "Warm Cat" to put him to sleep is also not qualified to rule the UK. Therefore, it is better to leave the matter of ruling the UK to King Arthur. You need to put this matter to bed now. Tell Leonard something, and before he comes back, you can think about how to say it."

To be honest, Ron was still quite curious about how Sheldon would tell Leonard the bad news.

Sheldon is a bastard who never understands others. Although this is not his own fault, in the words of a brain doctor, he may be too prominent in a certain aspect, resulting in a lack of emotion.

For so many years, Ron has been taking care of him as a good brother, but if Sheldon can make up for this lack, it will undoubtedly be a good thing.

At nine o'clock, Leonard and Penny came back from their date. They were still smiling as brightly as ever. They didn't sit around after they got home. Instead, they sat down in front of the computer and retouched the photos from today's date one by one (mainly to make him look sexy). As tall as Penny) and then put it on Facebook.

Sheldon held the magazine and stared at Leonard's back with a complicated expression, a little timid.

"Go quickly." Ron pointed at Leonard and mouthed.

"Leonard, have you ever noticed that my name is the only one on the cable bill?"

"Yes, what's wrong?" Leonard turned his head, not knowing why.

"That's good, and it's just your name on the electric bill and I'm not on it, and I don't mind that either." Sheldon continued to circle around.

"In fact, the electricity bill is also in your name."

"Yeah, it's really terrible." As he said that, Sheldon was about to flinch again. Ron couldn't bear it anymore, so he stood up and pushed Sheldon back: "Leonard, Sheldon has something to discuss with you. explain."

"What's the matter?" Leonard stopped what he was doing.

"Sheldon!" Ron raised his voice.

Sheldon finally accepted his fate and took out the magazine: "Okay, I will tell you something, but you may not be happy to hear it. An article about our paper was published in Scientific American."

"Is it a bad comment?" Leonard asked anxiously.

"No, it's a good review, but the problem is that the article didn't mention your name, only me." Sheldon handed over the magazine.

"Yeah?"

"I understand, this is very unfair to you. Let the anger go with the wind, brother~" Sheldon helped Leonard rub his shoulders flatteringly: "Just relax all the muscles in your body, except for your pubic and coccygeal muscles. Sphincter, you need to tighten these two muscles well."

"Eh...it doesn't need to be like this." It was the first time that Sheldon served him like this. Leonard was still not used to it, but Sheldon got it wrong.

"Of course you do. These two muscles can help you stop urine and feces."

Leonard felt more and more something was wrong. If Sheldon wasn't feeling particularly guilty, he would never be like this. He quickly looked at the magazine and immediately found the word that made him unhappy: "What?!" Dr. Sheldon and his team'!"

"For the record, I had no idea they were going to write this."

"Forget it, at least this article is about the theory itself, that's the most important thing."

"Yes, you're right," Sheldon breathed a sigh of relief: "It's like Stan Lee and Steve Disco created Spider-Man together. Maybe the credit goes to Stan Lee, but Steve knows , his role is just as important, even if Stan Lee guest-starred in all Marvel movies, he is much richer and more wealthy than Steve..."

"Sheldon!" Ron shouted. He was helpless towards Sheldon. Leonard's anger had already subsided. If you say this, wouldn't you add fuel to the fire?

But Sheldon is Sheldon, and he lived up to his expectations.

"Sorry, I originally wanted to give a few more examples, but the name of an unlucky guy like yours is really hard to remember..."

Ron saw that the veins on Leonard's head suddenly popped out.