Multiverse’s End - Chapter 13

Chapter 13: Chapter 013 – I Like Dogs

Translator: Exodus Tales

Editor: Exodus Tales

The IRS!

Its full name was the Internal Revenue Service. It was the tax agency of the United States and under the jurisdiction of the Department of the Treasury.

This agency was amazing, incredible!

Everyone in the world knew that there were three things that you absolutely could not do: Ban alcohol in Russia, sell drugs in China, and evade taxes in America.

There was a proverb among Americans: Nothing is certain but death and taxes!

In America, whether you made money legally or illegally, even if you got it from smuggling drugs, you had to pay taxes to the IRS.

IRS: No matter what you did, this old man needs his money and not a cent less!

Yes, they were just that good!

The IRS was omnipresent in America and had a proud reputation as ‘the most feared government agency in America.’ It was far more intimidating than the Department of Defense or the CIA. Agencies like the FBI, the CIA, and the DEA were all just little brothers in its presence.

The origin of the IRS could be traced back to the time of the American Civil War. At the time, America’s North and South were gripped in fierce and bloody combat, and the funds for war were short supply. President Lincoln saw that this was no good, as to how could they fight a war without money? So he immediately had the Treasury Department work overtime to collect taxes to fund the war.

The hard-pressed Treasury Department went to collect taxes, but they were threatened and driven away with guns to their heads. Thus, with Lincoln’s authorization, the IRS instituted an agency-wide training regimen.

The IRS had the right to come armed when demanding taxes, and when it was confronted with those who resisted with violence, well then, hehe, you have a gun, but I have a cannon!

The taxes were collected, and Lincoln used his expanded treasury to win the war.

So, did you think that the American Civil War was won because the black slaves served to reinforce the ranks of the army?

Did you think Lincoln was assassinated because the southern slave owners were unwilling to admit defeat? That it was caused by petty profit and political conflict?

Heheh, you’re too naive!

From that point onward, the IRS cultured a superb way of collecting taxes. It would move without hesitation when necessary, wasting no time on words and pulling the trigger the moment it encountered anyone who wouldn’t cooperate. Of its 110,000 employees, 40,000 were trained soldiers, well-equipped, and on par with the US Army’s Mountain Division.

In America, the number one military organization was the US Army, the second was the Coast Guard, and the third was the IRS. In American TV shows, the FBI was often used as an example of what not to be used as background to magnify the loftiness of the main male character. But no movie or show ever dared to mess around with the IRS. This was proof of their intimidating power.

Luo Su took the information on this former IRS employee from Cross, extracted another 2000 USD from him, and left with absolute confidence. Cross had praised this Mr. Smith so highly that Luo Su did not doubt that this was some big boss. Even if he wasn’t as formidable as Cross, he wasn’t far.

Luo Su leased a Ford F-150 from a secondhand car dealership and began driving to the next state. Mr. Smith’s phone was off, so Luo Su just started on his journey. To prevent unnecessary misunderstandings, Cross wrote a letter and also added one of his special whorled bullets. This was a secret signal shared between these two middle-aged men.

…

The city in which Mr. Smith lived was some distance away. Luo Su drove his car toward the southwest, spending an entire day on the highway. It was night by the time he had arrived.

Even with his driving skills, he could do nothing about secondhand Ford’s poor condition. Perhaps because it hadn’t been maintained in so long, Ford’s tires had very poor traction.

America had many car leasing dealerships, and the dealership Luo Su had found involved in the gray market. While it supposedly leased the cars, it was just selling them. It didn’t care who was leasing the car, nor were there any complicated procedures. With an exchange of money for the key, it was a done deal.

These secondhand cars that could be bought so cheaply all had unknown origins and had already been through many owners that it was impossible to find their original owners. To take the Ford Luo Su was driving as an example, if cars could be described as girlfriends, then this car was a well-used bus.

On the road, Luo Su had encountered a police checkpoint, though the experience had been more frightening than dangerous. With the driver’s license he had taken from those gangsters and the inability of Caucasians to differentiate between Asians, he easily passed the checkpoint.

Mr. Smith lived in a rather remote area. Luo Su only managed to find it after getting directions from a kindhearted gangster. This gangster was a kind soul, guiding him for free and even crying as he emptied his pockets of change and handed it over to Luo Su.

The upright Luo Su firmly refused, but then the gangster began to wail and weep, so Luo Su had no other choice but to accept.

Banging on the door of an assassin in the middle of the night was not a wise choice. This man might have been in an overnight typing session. Suddenly being interrupted might prevent him from updating in a timely manner to serious consequences.

Luo Su was planning to scout things out and then come back the next day with some fruit. Cross had given him 2000 dollars to buy some gifts, but Luo Su thought that Americans were too tacky and that buying some fruit would be enough. It was the thought that counted, not the gift itself, and he was preparing to offer Cross’s old friend his sincere greetings.

The Ford drove to Mr. Smith’s address, which was in a large abandoned building in the suburbs. The bricks were exposed beneath the mottled walls. Only homeless people would live in a place like this.

Luo Su immediately felt that something was wrong, and it wasn’t because of how unclean and shabby the place was. As Mr. Smith was an assassin, he had a cautious personality, so there was nothing wrong with him living in an out-of-the-way place in the suburbs.

But why were there ten black Buicks parked outside? Was Mr. Smith holding a sleepover party?

But that seemed impossible. There were several men in suits standing guard outside, wearing sunglasses in the middle of the night. If they weren’t blind, then they were selling insurance. As they didn’t have any seeing-eye dogs, it was more likely that they were selling insurance!

It was obvious that Mr. Smith wasn’t in a good situation. Someone had paid him a visit.

The suited men spotted that mysterious Ford. Two of them began to walk over to Luo Su while the others put their hands into their suits. They all had guns.

Bang! Bang! Bang…

Shots rang out from the building. Luo Su quietly cursed and slammed on the pedal, driving away. The two suited men decided not to pursue and went back to their posts.

But Luo Su did not actually leave. He circled around and parked the Ford in the shadow of a large tree. Gunfire could still be heard from the building and showed no signs of stopping. If this wasn’t someone using a body as target practice, then it was Mr. Smith engaging in a massacre.

The suited men stopped guarding the door and charged inside with their guns, upon which the sounds of gunfire grew even louder.

Luo Su had no intention of rushing inside to help. He counted the commercial Buicks and determined that if they were all fully seated, the enemy had brought a frightening number of people. He had no desire to sacrifice his life for a stranger.

The gunfire from the building crescendoed, and then it suddenly stopped.

Two figures ran out of the building, a man and a woman. The man was wearing a black jacket while the woman was all bundled up. The cover of darkness made it impossible to see what they looked like.

The two of them ran into a nearby alley, and twenty-some gun-toting suits came running out of the building after them, led by a short and foul-mouthed man.

Luo Su scratched his chin. Perhaps…he could attack from the rear.

The man who had fled was none other than Mr. Smith. He was a cool and mysterious man. No one knew his past, but his face practically announced ‘I have a story.’

Mr. Smith had been through an awful two days. A moment of softheartedness had caused him to be accidentally swept up into a conspiracy.

He was no kindhearted soul, nor did he have any dreams about a hero. But when he saw a woman who was eight months pregnant being chased by a bunch of criminals with guns, he instinctively went to help her.

In the chaotic gun battle, the pregnant woman was given such a bad shock that she gave premature birth. The woman herself did not survive, leaving behind only her newborn.

Mr. Smith thought that everything would be done and over now that the woman was dead and was unwilling to continue the fight, but afterward, he realized that the criminals had not been targeting the woman, but the newborn. Unable to abandon the newborn to almost certain death, he once more extended his helping hand, in addition seeking help from his mistress.

A newborn required a mother’s milk, and Mr. Smith was not equipped with that machinery, but the prostitute Quintana was. The unfortunate prostitute was dragged down into the water and brought back to Mr. Smith’s residence in the suburbs.

After that, the enemy came knocking. Mr. Smith dominated everyone else on the field, using his accurate marksmanship to single-handedly fight back against 50 gunmen and escape with the prostitute and the infant.

Mr. Smith thought that they could escape by hiding in the alley, but the short man leading the group had come ready with a hunting dog.

The dog’s savage barks echoed through the alley, accompanied by the rapid thumping of footsteps. A suffocating pressure hung over the alley.

“Shoot that dog! Kill it!” Quintana whispered. If they didn’t kill the dog, they wouldn’t be able to throw off their pursuers.

Mr. Smith refused without hesitation, “No, I like dogs.”

Quintana’s jaw dropped. I don’t mind that you like dogs, but that dog doesn’t know a thing about that!