The boss led John back to the shop's main entrance.
The new gun slung over his back was placed on the counter.
The metallic texture glistened under the lights, drawing attention.
The craftsmanship was perfect and the quality top-notch.
Plato indeed lived up to being a multinational giant, with every original factory part exuding a sense of industrial aesthetics. Just disassembling and playing with it could make enthusiasts' blood race.
"Custom-made goods, huh."
"Having trouble sorting it out?"
John extended his hand to hold the gun's body, blocking the view.
"This is a new piece I just got, don't mess with it if you're not capable. There are plenty of opportunities to make money, but if you ruin this, I'll make you a target at the shooting range and turn you into a beehive."
The boss wasn't fazed by John's threat.
