The man sitting opposite Sanchez was a little uneasy.
Sanchez was obviously not a good person. His face, head, hands, and wrists were either covered in scars or tattoos. How could such a person be a "good person"?
The man wanted to change seats, but he felt that if he suddenly changed seats, he might anger the gang member who had been staring at him. He could only continue to pretend to read the newspaper.
"Hey, give me your newspaper," the fierce man said.
The man reading the newspaper didn't react at first, but then he nodded repeatedly. "Just nice, I've finished reading, so …"
He saw a one-dollar bill, but he didn't know if he should take it or not. He thought that this was a 'robbery' that was only worth 50 cents. Now, it seemed that not only was it not a robbery, but he had also earned 50 cents.
Just as he was hesitating, Sanchez leaned forward and stuffed the dollar bill into the man's chest pocket, then took the newspaper from the man's hand.
Although he's fierce, he should be a good person, the man reading the newspaper thought.
At least the other party was polite enough to give him the money first and take the newspaper, which meant that the other party was a civilized person.
Since he was a civilized person, he couldn't make wild guesses based on the other party's appearance.
He turned his head and looked at the scenery outside the car window. It was as if the dark night, which was as dark as ink in an ink bottle, was the most beautiful scenery at this moment.
The veins on Sanchez's neck bulged as he held the newspaper.
The photo in the newspaper was a snap. Lynch was walking in the crowd, and the photo happened to capture the side of his face surrounded by the crowd.
Handsome, dashing. There was an indescribable aura that penetrated the newspaper and hit him in the face.
Sanchez, on the other hand, was furious.
This was a thief, a thief. He had stolen the wealth that should have belonged to him!
The problem now was even more troublesome. It was no longer as simple as convincing his uncle. He had to convince Lynch, who was richer and had more status and power in the Federation.
This made everything troublesome.
At the same time, a murderous intent flashed in Sanchez's heart. He could kill his uncle without hesitation now.
But before that, he had to deal with Lynch first!
The next day, when the newspaper guy woke up, the ferocious guy was gone. He tidied up his clothes and walked out of the car with his briefcase.
The moment his leather shoes stepped on Bu Paine's land, the aura of a "social elite" gushed out of his body.
Soon, he blended into the crowd and disappeared.
He didn't notice that there were a lot of policemen around the station, at least more than usual. These policemen were there to maintain order when necessary. The ones who could really play a role were the agents hidden in the crowd.
However, they were destined to fail this time because Sanchez had already jumped off the train when it was about to arrive at Bupain Station.
He was thankful that the Federation's technology did not allow the speed of the trains to exceed 100 kilometers per hour. Otherwise, he would not have been able to get up and walk after jumping off the train. He might have lost his life.
After changing his outfit slightly, a homeless man entered Bu Paine with the other homeless people entering the city.
There were not many homeless people in Bu Paine. Everything here was very expensive, and the burden of living was very heavy. The social elites in Bu Paine lacked sympathy and compassion.
But in the end, there were still some people who were unwilling to leave. After all, this was the core of the Federation. Even the food in the relief station was better than in other places.
No one would pay attention to whether a homeless person entered the city in the morning, and no one would check their identity.
After the dirty Sanchez entered the city, he did not contact anyone, especially the general of Marillo.
Now, international calls still had to be manually transferred. He couldn't pick up the phone like a fool and tell the transfer agent that he was a f * cking bad guy who was now exposing his target.
What he needed to do now was to find a way to talk to Lynch, but first, he needed a gun.
Weapons were the foundation of friendly communication. When he was eight years old, he learned this truth with a gun and a bullet. This truth caused his wrist to swell for more than a week.
He came to a slightly remote antique shop. The owner was a man in his forties.
He was cleaning some antiques. When Sanchez came in, he looked up and glanced at him. Then, he lowered his head again and continued with his work.
Sanchez walked to the counter, looked around, and then made his request. "I need a gun..."
The owner said without looking up, "Sorry, if you want a weapon, please go to a supermarket or a weapons shop. We don't sell weapons here."
The Federation also needed a license to sell weapons. This was related to the problem of the outflow of weapons.
Sanchez took out all the money he had on him, more than 1,600 dollars, and slapped it all on the table.
Two coins rolled on the ground disobediently, making a crisp sound. He glanced at the silver-plated candlestick not far away. "I need a gun."
The owner of the antique shop put down his work and looked Sanchez up and down. He reached out to pull open Sanchez's collar and saw the tattoo inside.
Things like tattoos had a certain meaning.
There were religious meanings or gang-related meanings. Police officers and government workers would not easily get tattoos. The tattoo on Sanchez's chest clearly made him look like a gang member.
The owner of the antique shop let go and shook his head. "I don't have enough money."
This time, he did not ask Sanchez to leave. Instead, he said that he did not have enough money. Sanchez frowned. "I have about 1,800 dollars here."
"You can go to the weapon store diagonally across the road and buy a federally registered weapon for $1,350. Then, you'll have to show your gun license and social security number. In the end, they'll even give you 100 rounds of ammunition."
The owner of the antique shop was still as arrogant as ever. He tapped his finger on the counter and said, "But here, 1,800 yuan is not enough. You need 2,500 yuan to buy a gun, and I will only give you seven bullets."
"F * ck!"
Sanchez kicked the counter.
"Now it's 2,600 dollars. You can kick it a few more times. I don't mind!"
The owner of the antique shop looked at Sanchez's dangerous eyes and pulled open his shirt without hesitation. There was a holster inside. The holster was unlocked, and there was a pistol inside.
Sanchez walked around twice. He really did not have any money on him. He searched every place where he could make money. Other than a ten-cent coin, he did not find anything else.
However, the owner's uncompromising attitude drove him crazy.
"Do you have a pair of pliers?"
He suddenly asked.
"That thing is very cheap. Only two dollars."
The owner of the antique shop put a pair of secondhand pliers on the counter.
Sanchez slammed his hands on the counter. With a bang, the owner of the antique shop inserted his hands into his chest.
He stared at the owner fiercely for a while. Suddenly, he picked up the pliers and stuffed it into his mouth.
Amidst a series of screams that sounded like his entire body was being torn apart, he pulled out a tooth that was stained with blood.
There was a diamond on it. It used to be his wormhole tooth.
His doctor had repaired the wormhole for him. When he was preparing to backfill it, he asked the doctor what was the hardest thing that could not be damaged so easily.
The doctor told him it was a diamond. So, he asked someone to find a similar diamond and put it in his tooth.
"Ptui …" He spat out a mouthful of blood and slammed the pliers on the counter. "This. 1,800 dollars in exchange for a pistol and a box of bullets."
The owner of the antique shop was also shocked by such a ruthless person. Without anesthetics, he pulled out his teeth forcefully. The pain was just one aspect. That kind of ruthlessness showed that the person in front of him was definitely not an ordinary gang member.
He was silent for a moment. Then, he took out a box from somewhere under the counter. There was a pistol inside.
"It's a military gun that was just retired. The serial number and serial number have been erased. No one can trace it."
Then, he put a box of bullets on the table. "50 bullets."
Sanchez spat out two more mouthfuls of blood. He looked up and glanced at the owner of the antique shop. "Do you have painkillers?"
The owner hesitated for a moment. He took out a small bottle and poured out a few pills. "It's very effective. Take it. Within three hours, even if someone cuts your head off, you won't feel it."
Sanchez nodded. He picked up a pill and stuffed it into his mouth. He swallowed it with blood.
He quickly checked the pistol and left with the pistol and the bullets.
The sun outside was just right. He lowered his head. His cheeks gradually began to swell.
He tore a piece of cloth from his clothes, rubbed it tightly, and stuffed it into the wound in his mouth. Then, he bit it tightly.
There was no pain, but he could still feel the sensation of touch. It was amazing.
When he walked, he even felt a little light-headed, as if he had accidentally eaten a poisonous mushroom.
This also reminded him of another big business at the border, the smuggling and selling of ghost face mushrooms.
Thinking about these messy things, he avoided the main road and walked along the small path toward the city center. He had to see Lynch first.
At the same time, the entire defense system of Bupain was activated.
With the confirmation of the Federation's arrest warrant, all the major TV stations broadcasted the news this morning. The newspaper reporter who was on his way found that the person on the wanted poster seemed to be the guy sitting across from him.
He immediately found the nearest police station and explained his situation.
After the Federation's Investigation Bureau agent took over and questioned him several times, he left the police station. At the same time, everyone knew that Sanchez had returned.