The Head of the Department
The frantic, wrinkled guy actively blocked Kniya's car door, catching his breath before aggressively pointing his finger right back at Kniya's face.
"Who are you to ask me who I am?!" the man yelled, completely unfazed by the billionaire's expensive suit and the heavy armored vehicle. "You haven't paid your taxes for three fucking months! You are an absolute nobody to ask me questions without paying your fucking taxes first!"
Sitting comfortably in the front passenger seat, Malesh slowly leaned forward. He analyzed the man's deeply stressed face through the windshield, his dark eyes locking onto the wrinkled suit and the highly intense expression. Malesh smoothly adjusted his silk tie, his face dropping into a perfectly deadpan, emotionless void as his photographic memory supplied the information.
"Kniya," Malesh stated flatly, instantly recognizing the man from the front pages of the major political newspapers. "Bro, he is the head of the fucking tax department."
Malesh completely ignored the screaming man and turned his head to look at Kniya, delivering a highly detailed, robotic lecture on the officer's background.
"He is a highly anomalous, really, really honest government officer," Malesh explained with absolute monotone precision. "His past administrative records are really great. According to the data, he has personally exposed and dismantled thousands of illegal, untaxed organizations across the country. Furthermore, his financial audits did not just stop at the private sector. He actively raided organizations that directly belonged to the government itself. Many highly corrupt, high-ranking government officers were brutally arrested and federally indicted under his direct leadership."
Malesh paused, turning his deadpan gaze back to the panting officer outside the car door.
"So, logically speaking, considering his kill count of corrupt politicians," Malesh concluded flatly, "he is a really great guy, in my opinion."
The tax officer immediately scowled, clearly unamused by the deadpan praise.
"Do not call the tax department 'fucking'," the Head Officer warned sharply. "You cannot say things like that in front of a federal employee."
Malesh just stared at him through the open car window, entirely unfazed by the authority figure.
"It is my mouth. I can logically say whatever I want," Malesh argued mechanically, his face completely blank. "This country is completely free. We are a democracy, and we have the constitutional freedom of speech. Should I really have to tell you that? You are an incredibly honest government officer. I genuinely think so you should already know about the people's fundamental government rights."
"Keep your oversmartness to yourself," the tax officer warned, his voice hardening, "or you will literally have to pay extra for that too. I can and will fine you for obstructing a tax collection."
The Backseat Panic
From the back seat, Salesh let out a terrified, high-pitched shriek.
"He can actually tax our speech?!" Salesh panicked, aggressively grabbing the back of Kniya's leather seat and shaking it. "Kniya, just pay him right now before he starts taxing our oxygen intake! I don't want to go to federal prison! I have a very weak immune system!"
Filoska, whose aristocratic patience had completely evaporated, aggressively slapped Salesh in the back of the head.
"Salesh, shut your fucking mouth before I throw you out of a moving vehicle," Filoska threatened dangerously. She leaned forward, glaring fiercely at the tax officer. "And he is right. What kind of professional federal behavior is this, ambushing a private car in the middle of the street like a common thug?"
The Honest Arsonist
Kniya crossed his arms, aggressively popping a bubble with his mint gum. He looked at the government official with pure, chaotic skepticism.
"I literally don't believe this," Kniya complained loudly, stepping out of the car. "Why are you actively standing right in front of my car door? You could have at least waited for us to properly exit the vehicle! And are you really the head of the department? Because you honestly look like a highly energetic street maniac."
"I am not going to confirm to you whether I am the head or just a random sweeper in this building," the tax officer replied, his voice completely exhausted and entirely ignoring Kniya's insult. "Just the thing is this: pay your fucking taxes for the past three months, and that's it. I have absolutely nothing else to do with you, and you also won't have anything else to do with me. I was simply waiting here for you to arrive so I could collect the taxes and go back to my desk."
Kniya's eyes narrowed suspiciously.
"Wait a minute," Kniya interrupted, holding up a hand. "We definitely didn't provide you with our location. We didn't tell you that we would arrive at this specific building today. So how the fuck did you know about it? And furthermore, as a highly responsible, law-abiding corporate citizen, I can absolutely ask you for your official ID. Show it to me."
The tax officer sighed deeply, reaching into his cheap, wrinkled suit pocket. He didn't brag, and he didn't boast about his power. With a completely down-to-earth, tired humility, he pulled out a heavily laminated government badge and held it up. It clearly stated his name and his absolute authority: Head of the Tax Department.
"Here is the ID. I am the head of the department," the Head Officer stated simply. "And I knew that you would come here today because my office just provided your Vice President with the Special Order. You billionaires are incredibly predictable. Whenever the Special Order drops, you guys always panic and drive straight here. So, I just waited outside."
Kniya looked at the shiny government ID, then looked back at the tired officer. A highly devious, arrogant smirk slowly returned to his face.
"Oh, I see," Kniya teased smoothly, leaning against his steam-car. "But seriously... what can you actually do if we don't pay the taxes?"
The Head of the Tax Department slowly put his badge back into his pocket. He looked Kniya dead in the eyes, his exhausted face suddenly turning completely, terrifyingly serious.
"Basically, you can try that for yourself and find out," the honest officer replied, his voice dropping into a casually chilling tone. "You will see the consequences immediately. Maybe your company magically loses its multi-billion credit trading license at this exact moment. Or... maybe a few of your highly expensive, uninsured skyscrapers could just magically start burning randomly to the ground. What do you think about it?"
The Bureaucratic Heat
Malesh stared blankly at the highly aggressive, threat-making tax officer. The blazing afternoon sun of Seistain was beating down on his expensive tailored suit.
"Basically, I mathematically think that there is too much heat going on out here," Malesh stated flatly, smoothly adjusting his pristine silk tie. "So, we can logically discuss this entire thing inside the tax office. What do you think about it, Mr. Head of the Tax Department?"
The Head Officer wiped a bead of sweat from his forehead, looking completely exhausted by their mere existence.
"Well, I don't have a fucking problem with that," the officer replied bluntly. "You just have to pay the taxes for your past three months. If you want to pay it out here on the street, that is absolutely great. If you want to pay it inside the building, that is also absolutely great. I don't give a flying fuck where you pay the tax, as long as I get the money."
Kniya smirked, leaning forward. "Can we at least ask your name?"
The officer stared at him with pure deadpan exhaustion. "I think you literally just read my ID a minute ago, so basically, I think you would have gotten some idea of my fucking name."
"I just forgot to read your name," Kniya admitted shamelessly, popping another mint gum bubble. "I was too busy looking at the shiny badge."
"Then read it sometime else," the Head Officer snapped, turning around toward the massive concrete building. "Because I don't have too much fucking time to waste on you idiots."
Malesh fell into step behind him, keeping his expression entirely void of emotion. "Well, sir. Don't you think you are acting entirely too arrogant for this situation? You know, it is really not good for a public servant."
"I am just talking with the absolute best manners I could possibly use," the officer shot back over his shoulder, his voice dripping with pure venom, "when dealing with a bunch of fucking crony capitalistic billionaires."
The Illusion of Competence
The group followed the highly aggressive Head of the Tax Department through the massive glass doors of the headquarters. They were fully expecting a depressing, underfunded bureaucratic nightmare, but the reality instantly threw them off.
The interior was completely spotless. The polished marble tiles gleamed perfectly under high-end, fully functioning lights. The walls were freshly painted, the air smelled entirely clean, and the entire facility operated with a terrifying, organized efficiency. Over in the bright corner of the lobby, smiling tax officers were actively running an educational seminar, politely teaching a large group of young students about why the taxation system is crucial for the country.
"I am honestly not understanding this," Malesh stated flatly, his dark eyes scanning the pristine lobby with genuine suspicion. "Every single piece of data says a government facility should be mismanaged, dirty, and deeply corrupt. Seeing it this clean and perfectly organized... it feels completely wrong. It is genuinely making me uncomfortable."
Kniya actually stopped chewing his mint gum. He stared directly at the group of smiling kids in the corner, his chaotic expression shifting into pure capitalist disgust.
"Are you fucking kidding me?" Kniya muttered, aggressively pointing his finger at the seminar. "Look at that shit. They are actively preparing a whole new bunch of highly honest, un-bribable government officers right in front of us. Do you have any idea how bad that is for a company like ours? They are literally manufacturing our worst nightmare."
Filoska looked around the well-lit room, narrowing her eyes. "It feels like we just walked into a trap. Where is the underlying extortion that we see in movies?"
"Just keep walking, you corporate parasites," the Head Officer snapped over his shoulder, entirely ignoring their confusion as he led them straight toward his private office.