"This is the seventh batch, isn't it? Moscow's got a lot of small gangs." An Ning sniffles, annoyed at the coat stain.
The last arrivals were the Freedom Group. Big money, big operations. They happily paid three million bottle caps, completing their arms deal.
"That idiot, as long as he has arms, what supplies can't he rob? Can you eat bottle caps? He's totally got the relationship wrong." The Freedom Group leader mocked Tang Zheng, looking at the dozen or so stockpiles of arms, and the tanks and armored vehicles that may still be operable with some maintenance, laughing like a cunning fox.
Tang Zheng was also snickering. After getting his hands on the bottle caps, he immediately dashed to the bookstore to exchange his mission with the old lady.
