Daily life of an American TV drama agent

Toretto, O'Connor and Taiji all had the same smile on their faces and took a step back in unison.

"Correction, it's you who want to compete with him, not us."

"What an idiot. It's been so long, haven't you learned that it's best not to mess with someone with such a face?" Everyone turned around, and Ron was stepping on the roof.

"For the sake of your boss, I'll let you go today." Roman said a cruel word at the right time, and quickly hid behind O'Connor before Arthur could react.

Arthur clenched his fists and finally resisted beating him.

Ron ignored him, jumped down from the roof, bumped fists with Toretto, and looked across everyone's faces.

"I have a plan to make a big fuss in Chicago, and I need a few outstanding drivers. I promise that no matter how fierce your fuss is today, no one will cause trouble for you, and I can even help you solve it in the future. Some small problems will serve as rewards, and the most important thing is, there will be a lot of money.”

Ron offered money as a temptation, but of course it was impossible for him to pay for it.

In order to increase his success rate, Mr. Francis specifically allowed Ron's department not to hand over a penny of the taxes collected this year, but to collect it as equipment expenses.

Of course, this is only an official statement. In fact, as long as Andy balances the accounts, the money can be said to be at Ron's disposal. How much is the money exactly?

Not to mention anything else, the bankers’ estimated tax alone is already as high as about 100 million!

Not to mention the existence of a money printing machine like Uncle Fried Chicken, plus other miscellaneous income, Ron estimates that the taxes collected by his IRS special operations team alone are enough for the Department of Defense to waste in Afghanistan for a week.

Of course, having said that, Francis, Ron, who knew Mr. Shimogi’s character well, definitely couldn’t do this, so as not to make a fuss about it when he suddenly turned his back one day and refused to recognize the person, but to pay some high salaries to the speeding thieves. Still no problem.

"Sounds good, who is your opponent this time?"

"CIA." Ron replied casually.

"CIA!" Roman raised his voice several times at once, shaking his head like a wavy drum: "Are you crazy? Are we alone going to fight the CIA? Do you know how many of them there are? I even Not even a gun!"

"The gun issue is easy to talk about," Ron waved. The garbage truck that was parked on the roadside suddenly moved. The shelves were propped up and the garbage on them was dumped on the ground, revealing the densely covered guns inside.

"As for manpower, it's easier to solve. We can distract them first." Ron stared at the slums on both sides of the road with evil eyes, which is why he chose this place to meet.

"Hey, you, just, I'm talking about you, come out!" Ron pointed his gun at a skinny black young man who was eavesdropping in the room next to him.

The young man cried bitterly and begged for mercy, while turning out of the window. Ron glanced at the needle hole on his arm, and the remaining sympathy disappeared.

It cannot be said that all, but at least most, people in American slums are related to drugs. They either take drugs themselves, or take drugs and sell drugs. You can easily get any drug you want by going to any slum in the United States.

Ron had no mercy for such people.

"Let me ask you, have any of your brothers or friends been killed by police recently?"

"Yes! My cousin was beaten to death by a white man just last week for drug trafficking..." The black guy looked at Ron's skin color and immediately changed his words: "He was beaten to death by a white policeman in the street."

"Do you think this is fair?" Ron asked in a persuasive way.

"Unfair... no, it's fair!" The black ancestor shook his head and immediately changed his mind.

"No, that's not fair," Ron shook his head, put the gun in his waist, walked to a large trash can and jumped on it: "Why should you be treated differently just because you are black?

What did you do wrong? I just like to take some drugs and occasionally steal something to make a living. But I know that you are all good people, but you are discriminated against by those stinky police officers because of your skin color. "

Ron, like the most famous speaker in history, shouted slogans: "Now is the time to let those white dogs who look down on us see the power of our black people. We must use marches and demonstrations to let them understand our power." the power of!"

With Ron's speech, more and more people walked out of the house, but he, Toretto, and the others were shocked by Ron. Who could he say was a bastard? Aren’t you still a white person yourself?

But Ron didn't care about that. He jumped off the trash can, picked up a rifle and threw it to the black guy he picked up from his home. He shouted: "Black Lives Matter! Black Lives Matter!"

As if shouting wasn't enough, he fired a bunch of bullets into the sky with his gun, screamed strangely, and walked out of the street with the confused black boy.

Something magical happened.

On the short three-hundred-meter road from the garbage truck to the street, Ron gradually walked from two people to three, four... until hundreds of people!

Some of them took weapons that fell from the garbage truck, some took their own weapons, and some even tore off the tattered sheets at home and wrote the slogan Ron just shouted on it to make a flag.

From a distance, it looks like an army, and the number of people is still increasing. The police cars that came after hearing the gunshots were so frightened that they did not dare to stop and ran away in a hurry.

The confusion and fear on the face of the black boy walking at the head of the team had long since disappeared. Instead, there was an emotion called fanaticism, which spread among the crowd like an infectious disease.

Ron had long since escaped and stood with Toretto and the others again.

"BOSS, what are you doing?" Hank asked fearfully.

"Of course, we want to do something to distract the CIA. Why are you still standing there? Why don't you hurry up and get some guys to join us?"

"You called us all the way from Los Angeles just to accompany you in the parade?" Toretto finally couldn't bear it after following the procession for a while.

Ron has said nothing until now except telling him that his opponent this time is the CIA.

"Of course not," Ron turned around and found that the queue had grown a lot longer and that more and more passers-by were watching outside. He stopped, picked up a stone from the ground and threw it at the Apple store on the roadside. .

"The latest Apple mobile phone is on the market~ come and grab it!"

Ron's shouting was completely unnecessary, because as soon as the glass was smashed, there were countless figures, skillfully getting in through the glass window, snatching the phone, and not giving up, even holding sticks with them. Smashed the shop to pieces.

Hank was stunned by this apocalyptic scene.

"My goal is the Vice President's fundraising dinner. Now, gentlemen, we can go to the banquet~"