Chapter 498 Magical America (Two Updates, 10,000 Words)

Beautiful country, California, Pollack Prison.

This is a private prison. In a beautiful country that advocates liberalism, everything can be privatized, including prisons.

Private prisons in the United States have flourished for decades because the country held too many inmates.

This country, which accounts for only 5% of the world's population, imprisons 25% of criminals, ranking first in the world.

And this is how private prisons came into being. This is a "high-quality business" that can make money, can be listed on the market, and earns tens of millions per year, attracting a lot of capital participation.

Pollack Prison is affiliated to CCA Group, the leading private prison enterprise in the United States, and is also the largest prison of CCA.

CCA Group currently has prisons built across the country, housing more than 100,000 prisoners. The company was also selected by Forbes magazine in 2007 as one of the 400 "Beautiful Country's Best Large Companies."

However, although Pollack Prison belongs to the leading company CCA, the life of prisoners here is not worthy of the treatment and reputation of this large company.

Behind the thick gates and layers of barbed wire, high-intensity work is going on here. It is no different from a factory. There are running machines and assembly line operations everywhere.

Every white, black, and Latino prisoner is doing production work just like ordinary workers.

The only difference between them and ordinary workers in the beautiful country is that there will be no labor unions, no strikes, and no need to pay five insurances and one housing fund. Compared with the high labor costs of other factories, this factory has a cost of basically 0 labor gold mine.

At this time, the temperature here was as high as over 30 degrees due to the hot weather. However, let alone air conditioning, there was not even a ceiling fan. All the prisoners were soaked in clothes and dripping with sweat.

They are not so much prisoners as they are tireless slaves on the production line.

"It's time to eat."

At noon, the prison guards banged on the iron door with their batons, making a loud noise.

The scene immediately became agitated, with groups of prisoners vying for each other, verbal abuse, quarrels, and even fights occurring from time to time, just to get to the canteen first.

The prison guards present were not surprised, and some were smoking cigarettes Xianxin, pointing, and laughing as if they were watching a monkey show.

They are not afraid of these prisoners making trouble, and the batons in their hands and the guns on their waists are not for work.

If these prisoners don't work hard, they have plenty of ways to deal with them. If they don't obey, they will only force you to commit suicide.

In the canteen, the food here also fully reflects the capitalist's precise control of costs.

The buns and burgers have traces of being bitten by rats, the meat has gone bad, and the vegetables are mixed with bugs. It's not a big deal. In order to keep costs to a minimum, everything is done based on the principle of saving when you can, as long as you don't starve to death.

The prisoners devoured the food at the table, but not all of them ate so badly.

There are also some prisoners who eat much better food, including sausages, cola, salads, grilled chicken, etc.

This kind of private prison has always been a paradise for the rich and a hell for the poor. Without money, you can only do the hardest and most tiring work, with the worst food and poor housing.

For rich people, as long as you have enough money, serving a sentence can be as enjoyable as a vacation.

"Chairman."

Suddenly, rhythmic footsteps were heard outside the canteen, and a middle-aged man walked in.

The prison guards who maintained order were surprised because this was CCA Chairman Novartis Stout, who rarely appeared here on weekdays.

Along with Novartis, there was also a team of medical staff.

"Assemble the people."

Novartis said calmly, glanced at the prisoners, and gave the order directly.

There was a sudden uproar at the scene. Under the beatings of the prison guards, the prisoners could only curse and put down the food in their hands, and lined up in front of Novartis with expressions of unwillingness.

"Anyone whose name is called will come to me to draw blood."

Novartis said it in a commanding tone without any nonsense at all.

The medical staff had already brought blood drawing equipment, wore masks, and flashed needles, which caused a commotion among the prisoners at the scene.

"Fake, what are you doing to draw blood? Why do you need to draw blood if everything is fine?"

"Why draw blood? I'm not sick. You can't do this."

"Not only do you squeeze us into working, but you also draw blood. You bastards, I'm going to sue you above."

"No wonder you organized a physical examination for all of us yesterday. You were already unkind."

This compulsory order to draw blood immediately aroused the prisoners' resistance. They all became prisoners. Most of them had perverse personalities, but they had no idea of ​​having their blood drawn in vain.

"Do you still need me to teach you how to do things?"

Novartis looked coldly at the prison guard and correctional cadre next to him. The other party suddenly became excited and shouted quickly: "You can't even understand the words, right? Just do whatever you are told. If you don't want to draw blood, everyone should stop eating. You three are hungry." For three days and nights, let’s see who dares to resist.”

While talking, he pulled out the baton from his waist and smashed it down on his head and face, causing the black man in front of him to scream in pain.

The other prison guards followed suit and soon became 'friendly' with the prisoners. Finally, with a few gunshots, the scene quickly became quiet again.

The prisoners squatted on the ground unwillingly one by one, looking at the muzzles of the guns that were smoking, and there were several small holes in the ceiling.

They knew that if they continued to cause trouble, they would not fire warning shots, but would actually shoot several bloody gunshots on them.

"Prisoner 731281, come here to draw blood."

The first prisoner number was called, and a white man stood up hesitantly. Only after being kicked twice by the prison guard did he reluctantly walk to the medical staff.

After simple disinfection, the medical staff began to draw blood.

Generally, 400 ml of blood is required for a blood bag. This is also the blood donation policy implemented in Indochina. This amount of blood will generally not cause discomfort to people.

But the current blood drawing was not like this. Two blood bags containing 800 ml of blood were drawn.

When he was whipped to the back, the white prisoner's face turned pale, he clenched his fists tightly, and the veins on his neck popped out. He looked not in a good condition.

You know, if the human body loses more than 1,000 milliliters of blood, it will cause hemorrhagic shock. You can imagine how cruel it is to directly draw 800 milliliters of blood at a time.

"Next one, number 102128, come here."

"Number 947127, draw blood, hurry up."

"You have a stomachache and you can't draw blood? Even if you have a funeral tomorrow, you still have to donate your blood to me today."

Soon, one prisoner after another was forced to complete the blood drawing, and the bags of blood were placed in the refrigerator for storage.

There would be resistance from time to time, but unfortunately the prisoners' fists were no bigger than the guards' fists, and in the end everyone had their blood drawn.

Only some prisoners suffering from infectious diseases were lucky enough not to have their blood drawn, as their blood was distasteful.

These prisoners secretly rejoiced, never expecting that their dirty blood could become a talisman at a critical moment.

All the blood was finally loaded onto cold chain trucks and transported and shipped uniformly.

Mo country!

Tijuana Group, in the underground warehouse of the city's slums, the boss of the Tijuana Group, the cartel, is meeting with CCA Chairman Novartis here.

Both sides have their own manpower, but comparing the two sides, the cartel's people are obviously better.

In addition to being super soldiers, there were also two genetic warriors with cold eyes and wearing three-meter reproductive suits, which made the bodyguards brought by Novartis feel weak.

"Mr. Carter, we meet again."

Novartis's face lost the cold look in front of the prisoners, and there was a warm smile on his face. He opened his hand and gave it a hug.

This is not the first time the two have met. The Tijuana Group's smuggling business is spread all over the beautiful country. Tianyuan hair growth liquid, myopia pills, and weight loss pills are all hot sellers. Many forces engaged in the underworld and gray industries have become these. The products are rolled off the production line, helping to sell these products, and also allowing these products produced by the Jieko Group to bloom all over the beautiful land, making it impossible to stop them.

"Let's take a look at the goods first. This is our first blood transaction. Novartis, please don't fool me with some dirty blood, otherwise don't blame me for being unkind."

The cartel looked at the cold chain trucks brought by Novartis without much enthusiasm.

Although the cartel's attitude is a bit lukewarm, Novartis has no dissatisfaction, or rather he does not dare to.

He also wants to continue to buy bulk goods from the Tijuana Group. Those pharmaceutical products such as hair growth solutions are highly profitable and low-risk, making them more profitable than operating a private prison.

Even though the private prisons owned by Novartis hold hundreds of thousands of prisoners, and the occupancy rate of the prisons reaches over 80%, and the profit is guaranteed to be exploited, but compared with the money earned from helping to sell hair growth liquid, myopia pills, and weight loss pills in bulk, it is still far behind. Less, only opium can compare profits.

As a proper seller's market, Novartis naturally does not dare to offend the cartel.

"Of course, Mr. Carter, you know me. I am the most honest person in business. All the blood was drawn after physical examination. There is absolutely nothing wrong with it. You can ask your people to check it."

Novartis's chest beat loudly, and he turned around and waved to his men.

As the cold chain trucks opened one after another, what came into view were rows of blood bags, densely packed and stored. This scene was enough to shock the jaws of ordinary people.

"Go up and check the quality."

Carter said, and a team of doctors stepped forward, set out various instruments, and started sampling and testing on the spot.

"Mr. Cartel, look at this money."

Novartis rubbed his hands, his eyes burning.

"There's no problem with the goods. Your money is indispensable. You still can't trust the credibility of our Tijuana Group."

Cartel glanced at Novartis, with such a strong aura that even Novartis, a black-hearted capitalist, was a little frightened.

"That's not true. The Tijuana Group has never made any mistakes. It's just that the investigation in the United States is strict now. The previous payment channel has been abandoned. We have to find a new safe transfer channel."

"It's a small matter. Our money can be available at any time. How to clean it is your own business."

Cartel chatted with Novartis all the time, watching the blood tests over there.

After a while, the doctor doing the random inspection nodded to Cartel and said, "BOSS, the goods are fine and of sufficient quality."

Carter nodded slightly and was about to speak.

Suddenly, a genetic warrior who had been standing behind the cartel suddenly moved, rushing forward and kicking sideways.

But in the hands of the person brought by Novartis, a bodyguard in black was about to take out a mini submachine gun and fire at the cartel.

The gene warrior moved faster, blasting the air with his kick, kicking half of the bodyguard in half. The upper body hit the wall hard, and the splattered blood and minced meat covered the bodies and faces of the surrounding bodyguards.

But this was not over yet. The next second, the genetic warrior stood in front of the cartel, protecting him and rolling continuously.

Then, a bullet came over. It was a bullet fired from a sniper rifle, or an anti-material sniper rifle.

If it weren't for the protection of the genetic warrior, Cartel would definitely be dead now.

Another genetic warrior, at this time, was like a gecko, climbing up the wall quickly, and all the bullets shot at him were dodged.

The sudden change caused a panic at the scene, and Novartis's face turned pale, and he screamed: "It's none of my business, it's not me."

The super soldiers at the scene raised their guns, and various heavy weapons were aimed at them.

In the tense and stalemate atmosphere, less than ten seconds before and after, the charging genetic warrior returned again, a thick and ferocious tail drilled out of the biological colonization suit, tightly wrapped around a man's neck, dragged him to the ground, and caught him alive.

"The assassin should be a CIA person."

The genetic warrior held the tool he had just used, an anti-material sniper rifle, in one hand, and with the other hand, he had already lifted Novartis's neck and lifted him up like a chicken.

Novartis was so scared that he almost peed himself. He screamed, "I am innocent! It's really none of my business. I didn't know that there were CIA people infiltrating my subordinates. I am so rich and I haven't enjoyed such a good life yet. How could I become a CIA spy?"

Novaris was devastated at this time, and he wanted to cry but couldn't.

He didn't expect that he would be dragged into such a thing. A good deal went wrong. This assassination had nothing to do with him.

Everyone knows the background of the Tijuana Group. They are really ruthless people. They dare to smuggle at the border and play gunfights with the anti-smuggling team of the United States. They often dispatch helicopters, armored vehicles, tanks and super soldiers, which makes the anti-smuggling team of the United States anxious.

And behind Tijuana stood the Jeko Group, which was the overlord of the Indochina Peninsula. The boss was known as the Tsar of Southeast Asia. He was a ruthless man among ruthless people. He didn't have a brain twitch, so how dare he provoke them? A hundred lives would not be enough to play with!

The bodyguards brought by Novartis saw their boss being arrested and dared not move at all, otherwise they would leave faster than the boss.

At the same time, the genetic warrior who blocked the bullet stood up, revealing Cartel who was protected under him.

"Let him go, it has nothing to do with him."

Cartel waved his hand. As the leader of the Tijuana Group, he worked for Su Jie and encountered assassinations more than once or twice.

The United States wanted to get rid of him as soon as possible, but fortunately he was protected by the people sent by Su Jie, and Mexico had its own national conditions. The Tijuana Group was deeply rooted here, and the United States could never get rid of the foundation of Tijuana.

On the contrary, over the past few years, Tijuana has become stronger and stronger. Not to mention calling the wind and rain in Mexico, both the black and white worlds are Tijuana's umbrellas anyway, and the United States will not get any good when it comes.

"It seems that our new business has been targeted recently. Selling blood is still too conspicuous and ostentatious. The CIA wants to target us."

Cartel muttered to himself. Generally speaking, the CIA has lost a lot of good hands on the side of the Tijuana Group and will not take action easily.

This sudden attack was probably because they were very active in selling blood recently, which made the CIA want to strike and warn them.

"Do we need to postpone our blood purchase plan?"

The newly appointed personal secretary, who was also a distant relative, whispered.

Pah!

A loud slap sounded.

Cartel knocked the secretary to the ground, and said with a cold look in his eyes: "Fuck, what are you talking about? This is a task assigned by Mr. Su. You can push anything, but not this. Next time you have this idea, you will sink into the sea."

While speaking, Cartel looked around inadvertently and found that the two gene warriors were paying attention to this place, and his heart trembled.

He knew that these two gene warriors were bodyguards, but in fact, it was also a kind of hidden surveillance.

If he betrayed the Jeko Group in any way, today's protector could become a perpetrator at any time.

"It's not like we haven't fought the CIA before. Do you think our Tijuana Group was scared? We will not stop. Tell them to increase the amount of blood they buy. We are in the dark, and the CIA is in the light. What is there to be afraid of?"

With a cold snort, Cartel stepped forward, helped Novartis up, and handed him an anonymous check.

"This is the amount of this transaction. I will double it for you. When you go back, go to your colleagues to promote our blood. The price is generous."

Seeing this check, Novartis, who was originally frightened, suddenly had bright eyes and nodded like pounding garlic, saying, "Okay, Mr. Cartel, I'm really sorry about what happened today. I will definitely help you promote it and let my friends make a lot of money together. Just wait."

"I'm waiting for your news."

Cartel patted Novartis on the shoulder and asked someone to send him away.

A thousand gold coins to buy a bone horse, he wanted to start a larger-scale blood purchase, starting with this person.

He was even willing to let the suspected assassin go. This publicity was enough to show the sincerity and importance of the Tijuana Group to the blood business.

Novartis, who had escaped by chance, did not disappoint people and soon spread the news that the Jeko Group bought blood at a high price.

Novartis himself spread the blood drawing in the entire prison under CCA.

To be precise, not only the prisons of CCA, but also the private prisons of the entire United States are basically conducting large-scale blood drawing activities. Even in the official prisons of the United States, many people are doing this secretly.

In addition to prisons, there are other formal and informal blood draws in many places in the United States.

For formal blood draws, doctors in hospitals personally recommend them to patients. If you don’t have enough money, you can sell your blood and use your own blood to treat your own illness. It’s very cost-effective.

If you don’t have enough blood, you can also ask relatives and friends to come together.

And informal blood draws are done in the underground black market. There are blood selling stations set up here. Many poor people choose to sell blood here because they are greedy for high prices.

What’s more, there are fewer homeless people in the streets and alleys of the United States. They have disappeared strangely.

Bankers have also come up with an outrageous blood donation loan, which allows you to borrow money with your own blood. When the loan expires, you don’t have to pay back the money, but you have to have your blood drawn, and the interest is also converted into blood. It can be regarded as a magical advanced consumerism.