Chapter Ten: Exposure and Expansion
Ross Garcia couldn't help but feel a rare sense of satisfaction as he watched his men load the newly delivered rifles into their armored vehicles. The crisp morning air of the Tijuana desert was a stark contrast to the burning heat of the afternoon. The weapons had arrived precisely on time, and the quality of the delivery had exceeded his wildest expectations. He'd been in the business long enough to know that most arms dealers were unreliable at best and outright liars at worst. But this new supplier—Quinn Parker—had proven different. Mysterious, yes, but his professionalism and discretion were undeniable.
"These are some damn fine rifles," one of Ross's lieutenants remarked as he inspected the weapon in his hands. "Smooth recoil, no jams. They feel like they're straight out of a military research lab, not a black-market deal."
Ross said nothing, though his mind was racing. He had already tested one of the rifles the night before and found it astonishing. The bullets fired not only with precision but with a velocity and range that defied any conventional weapon he had used before. From 500 meters, they were still hitting the target with pinpoint accuracy, as though they had been guided by a laser.
"Post the photos," Ross ordered, handing over his phone to one of his tech-savvy subordinates. As part of the deal, Quinn had insisted on Ross publicly posting proof of the delivery and a review of the goods on the dark web. It was risky, but Ross understood the importance of establishing Quinn's reputation. Without a trusted dealer, there would be no arms to fuel his battles.
The subordinate quickly snapped photos of the pristine white boxes and their contents—sleek, black automatic rifles, neatly packed in foam casings, bullets lined up like soldiers in a row. They looked almost too perfect, too modern. If it weren't for the fact that Ross had personally used the weapons, he would have thought them props from some futuristic movie.
"Caption?" the subordinate asked.
Ross rubbed his jaw, thinking. "Just say, 'Top-tier weapons. Delivered discreetly, high-end quality. Recommend 100%.' That should be enough to get the orders flowing."
As soon as the post went live on the hidden marketplace, Ross felt a sense of anticipation. He knew the world of illegal arms dealing well. It wouldn't take long for word to spread about the new dealer who delivered advanced, top-quality weapons with such precision. It was only a matter of time before the floodgates opened.
---
On the other side of the border, in Quinn's factory, things were moving fast. Ara monitored the surge in activity as Quinn received notification after notification of new orders flooding in.
"Orders are coming in at a rate of 15 per minute," Ara informed him, her voice calm and efficient as always. "As of now, we have requests from across Central America, the Middle East, and even Europe."
Quinn's expression remained cool, but inside, he felt a spark of satisfaction. This was what he had envisioned. Not just a sale, but domination of the market. His technology, taken from the 4th dimension, was so far beyond anything these primitive humans had access to. It was no wonder they were stunned by what he could provide.
"In the last 48 hours, we've sold over ten million dollars' worth of weaponry," Ara continued. "Production is moving at full capacity, but it will not be enough to meet the demand if the order rate continues to increase."
"Then we expand," Quinn replied, eyes glinting with ambition. "Activate additional production lines. Bring everything we have online. I want this operation to run 24/7. We'll drown the world in our weapons if we have to."
Ara acknowledged the command, and within moments, several new production lines—previously dormant—hummed to life. The factory began to operate with a renewed intensity, machines moving in sync as more rifles and ammunition were produced at blinding speed.
"Do you foresee any potential risks?" Quinn asked, his voice calm yet thoughtful. Despite his rapid success, he wasn't a fool. Every step needed to be calculated.
"None from the clients so far," Ara responded. "They are satisfied with the goods and are paying in full. However…"
Quinn frowned slightly. "However?"
"There has been increased surveillance on the dark web. Law enforcement agencies have started noticing the sudden influx of high-end weaponry being sold. It's only a matter of time before they start investigating."
Quinn leaned back in his chair, tapping his fingers together as he considered Ara's words. "Let them look. By the time they figure out what's going on, we'll be too far ahead for them to stop us."
---
Several days later, in the FBI's Cybercrime Division in Washington, D.C., Agent Ryan Mitchell was idly scrolling through the usual dark web chatter. It was his job to monitor illegal weapons sales, drug deals, and any other illicit activities that cropped up in the shadowy corners of the internet. Most of it was routine—low-level criminals, wannabe arms dealers trying to peddle old Soviet-era weapons, nothing that really raised any red flags.
But something caught his eye.
"Huh," Mitchell muttered under his breath as he clicked on a new listing. "What the hell is this?"
On his screen, he saw the images Ross Garcia had posted: pristine white crates filled with rifles that looked like they belonged in a sci-fi movie, not in the hands of a Mexican drug cartel. He clicked through the photos, eyebrows raising higher with each one. The reviews were glowing—almost too good to be true. The buyers were raving about the quality of the weapons, the precision, the advanced technology. It was unlike anything Mitchell had ever seen on the dark web.
"Hey, Tom!" Mitchell called out to his colleague across the room. "Come take a look at this."
Tom, a fellow cybercrime agent, wandered over, sipping his coffee. "What's up?"
Mitchell pointed at the screen. "We've got a new player in the arms trade. And from the looks of it, they've only been active for a week, but they're already making waves."
Tom squinted at the images. "Those don't look like any weapons I've seen before."
"Exactly," Mitchell said, leaning forward in his chair. "These are cutting-edge. Way too high-tech for anything that should be floating around on the black market. And look at this—one of the reviews says these rifles have an effective range of 500 meters with perfect accuracy. That's not normal."
Tom frowned. "That's military-grade, maybe even beyond that. Where's this stuff coming from?"
Mitchell shrugged. "That's what I want to find out. But whoever this seller is, they're operating under the radar, and they're doing it well. They're only accepting bitcoin, and so far, all the payments are being routed through encrypted channels. It's going to be tough to trace."
Tom scratched his chin. "Should we flag this for the higher-ups?"
Mitchell nodded. "Yeah, I think we should. If these weapons are as advanced as they seem, this could be a national security issue. Whoever is selling them has access to technology that could shift the balance of power in some pretty dangerous ways."
Tom sighed. "Great. Another mess for us to clean up."
Mitchell clicked through the listing one more time, then flagged the account for further investigation. "I'll start digging into this seller's profile, see if I can trace anything back to a physical location. But something tells me this isn't just some two-bit arms dealer trying to make a quick buck. There's something bigger going on here."
Tom nodded. "I'll notify the higher-ups. If this escalates, we might need to bring in military intelligence."
As Mitchell watched the screen, the hairs on the back of his neck stood up. Whoever this mysterious arms dealer was, they had just entered the radar of the FBI—and that meant things were about to get a lot more complicated.
---
Back in his New York City factory, Quinn sat in silence, unaware that his growing empire had already attracted the attention of some very dangerous eyes. But for now, he was focused on one thing: expanding his influence and solidifying his place as the most powerful arms dealer in the world.
And nothing, not even the FBI, was going to stop him.