Chapter 6 Profiteering industry prototype!
The speed of the hardware store was incredibly fast, and the corresponding finished products could be obtained early the next morning. With the blueprints and some polishing, the quality wouldn't be too bad.
After returning home, Mark began to assemble his own AK-47. The handle, magazine, barrel, aiming base, and rubber buffer were all in place. There were still practice rounds and real bullets bought the day before in the lab. *Click.*
He loaded the gun. Even though it was the first time he had ever touched one, for some reason, it felt strangely familiar, as if he was born with the skill.
He picked up the bullets and the reassembled gun, preparing to head to the distant forest park to test his work.
Mark didn't want to experiment in his own lab. Who knew if a ricocheting bullet would KO him? He hadn't even lived life fully yet. To die without experiencing all that the world had to offer—wouldn't that be a suffocating way to go?
If, by chance, he ended up in hell and met another fellow traveler, it would be so embarrassing to admit how he died.
Mark had already imagined the conversation, *"Hey man, how did you die?"*
*"Oh, I conquered an entire country and spent my days living it up. What about you?"*
*"Oh, I got taken out by a stray bullet while experimenting with a gun."*
Ha! People would burst out laughing! So, for the sake of safety and pride, it was better to experiment in the wilderness.
Oranton Park was a public park established long ago, full of fir trees and other types of wood good for construction. Near noon, one could also see many homeless people occupying the best spots in the park's corners. Even if they had no food, basking in the sun was their way of gathering energy.
Alone, Mark took out the parts under many malicious gazes and skillfully assembled them into an AK-47 assault rifle. The gun, still glowing with a metallic sheen, made several of the homeless, who had thought of robbing him, swallow nervously.
Some weren't afraid of death though. Their eyes gleamed, clearly considering whether to take their chances and snatch the weapon from this young guy who looked like an easy target.
Loading the clip and switching off the safety, Mark didn't even bother to aim. He just grinned at the homeless men and pulled the trigger!
*Rat-a-tat-tat!* "Ah! Help! He's crazy!" "Murderer!"
The homeless people dropped to the ground in fear, trembling like quails.
In reality, Mark hadn't killed anyone. He was just putting on a show to scare them. He wasn't a villain, and there was no need to kill innocent people. All the bullets had hit a concrete board. From 30 meters away, the thin slab was left riddled with large, blocky holes. The power of the gun was impressive. The recoil was a bit strong, but with the rubber pad on the buttstock, the impact was greatly reduced—Mark could handle it just fine, let alone a trained soldier.
The frightened homeless men stared at Mark in fear, as if they had encountered a vicious robber. They had looked ready to pounce before, but now they trembled. Some started pleading, "Uh, brother, sorry, we didn't mean anything. We were just getting ready to find food. Please don't kill us, we don't have any money."
"Relax, I'm not here to kill anyone. I'm just testing a gun!" Mark replied, mocking their fear. *Like I'd believe that,* he thought. *You guys were totally eyeing me like a pack of wolves.*
Suddenly, an idea flashed through his mind—a plan for the future. Now was the perfect time to build a gang of sorts.
In a world like this, where there were good and bad guys, where the Avengers existed, there had to be a league of villains too.
Why not position himself in the middle? He could plant his own pawns on both sides. These homeless people could do the dirty work for him, playing villains in staged robberies, while he swooped in as the hero saving the day! Picking up girls would be a breeze!
Mark laughed evilly at the thought. The few homeless men, still crouched on the ground, shivered even more. They exchanged glances, their expressions conveying their thoughts without words.
*"This guy's got to be a pervert! That smile is too creepy. Maybe he likes men!"*
*"No way. We can't let ourselves be humiliated like that!"*
*"Oh my God, please don't. I haven't even eaten yet!"*
Mark, unaware of their thoughts, continued grinning. If he knew what they were thinking, he would've loaded a fresh magazine just to freak them out even more. *Disgusting!* He was a decent guy, and his sexual orientation was completely normal! He liked women, not men!
*Ahem.* "Alright, although you're just a bunch of bums, even garbage has its uses. Here's two bucks, that's your payment for now. Don't think about running off, or you'll get a taste of how wonderful bullets can be! Watch me for now. After my experiment, I'll have more work for you!" He tossed out two one-dollar bills.
The bills fluttered down to the ground, an insulting gesture. To pick up the money, the men would have to bend over in front of Mark—a symbolic act of submission. It was a scene straight out of an old villain movie.
But this wasn't a movie, and Mark wasn't a big-time villain. The homeless men weren't criminals either.
A man, covered in dirt, immediately scrambled to grab the money. *Dignity?* That was for the rich. For those at the bottom, two burgers were worth more than pride.
"Yes, boss, don't worry. We've got your back," a burly black man assured him. Even though they had just met, he knew this kid wasn't ordinary. What regular teenager runs around with an assault rifle?
"Good. Now keep an eye out." Mark waved dismissively. He might not have lived it, but he had watched enough shows to know how to act tough. Einstein once said that everything has value, even trash.
*Rat-a-tat-tat!* The gunshots continued all morning, scattering shell casings all over the grass. If it weren't for the fact that the park was a homeless hotspot that police avoided, Mark would've been arrested for his antics.
While shooting, he scribbled down notes. By noon, Mark left the park, tossing a casual instruction to his new 'employees' to await further orders.
The results of his two-hour experiment were significant. He'd figured out the gun's key problems, like the burst bolt lagging and the recoil mechanism. A few tweaks back at the lab would fix everything.
When he got home, the smell of beef filled the air. Aunt Sarah's cooking was excellent. The steak was golden brown, with a buttery aroma that made his mouth water. The vegetable borscht was the perfect complement to cleanse the palate and digest the rich meal.
"Back already, Master Mark? Lunch is ready. Please, try my cooking. If it doesn't suit your taste, let me know, and I'll make something else. I wasn't sure what you liked, so I made something simple," Aunt Sarah said warmly, her apron wrapped around her like a symbol of motherly care, perhaps a remnant of her time as a nurse.
After taking a bite of the steak, Mark savored the hot butter and rich meaty flavor. It was delicious, as good as Mrs. Barra's cooking next door. "It's great, Aunt Sarah. I love it. And the lab doesn't need to be cleaned. By the way, what's Steve up to these days?"
Curious about Steve's life before joining the army, Mark wondered if it would give him any insights. After all, it wasn't mentioned much in the movies. Despite not being rich, Steve could still afford to watch patriotic films, so he probably wasn't entirely broke either.
A flicker of worry crossed Aunt Sarah's face. "He's doing odd jobs at his father's old friend's shop. His dream is to join the army, to become a soldier and fulfill his father's wish of serving the country."
"Oh, that's a noble dream. It's people like Steve who allow us to live in peace. Aunt Sarah, I'm full now. I'll head out, but if you need anything, feel free to let me know."
"Of course, Master Mark. Go ahead, I'll be here." Aunt Sarah smiled warmly. She'd heard from the neighbors that her young employer was a mad scientist type, obsessed with experiments. His dedication reminded her of her own son Steve, who was just as determined and kind-hearted.