I got to the warehouse with more than enough time to hide the duffle bags, placing them underneath one of the piles of rubble and coating it with concrete dust from around the area. I kept one of the rifles on me to demonstrate along with a total of five rounds for testing purposes.

Upon closing myself within the freezer with only one lit candle to light things up, I loaded a cartridge just to see if it would even shoot. As it turned out, it did so quite wonderfully, putting a small hole into one of the walls, the sound echoing around the enclosed space. I ejected the round and pocketed the spent casing before placing the product on the same rotten table I'd used before, still in its spot from yesterday.

I looked over the weapon I'd built, grimacing as I thought about how much effort it really took to build something that simple. It was rough but it did the job well enough, and that was all that mattered in the end. I put it in the back of my mind and chose to ignore it, looking at different forum threads while leaning against the wall.

Most were junk but a few others talked about quests which seemed to operate more like contracts. Someone took the job, did it if they could, and got paid, then it would disappear. A few were repeatable though they had various cooldown periods. Resource gathering, extermination quests, even faction raids, though very few were attempting those.

The alien and robot sides of the American server were in similar situations to the human side, though small guilds and normal players were having a harder time acclimating to different technology branches. The aliens were working with plasma based weaponry along with average lead spitters which made things harder for crafters, while the robot players were attempting to gain access to energy weapons that would be integrated into their bodies instead of being wielded.

The freezer door opened just as I was getting into the details of how people could use integrated weaponry without having a hand. Closing the menus out entirely I saw the man I was supposed to meet, walking toward me all alone, though I could see someone else standing just outside, a mean looking machete in their hand.

They closed the door before I could see anything else, leaving me alone with the buyer, a player by the name of GalacticHitchhiker. The reference wasn't lost on me, though I didn't show any signs of overt friendliness as it would be bad for business.

Upon seeing the rifle, Galactic's expression seemed to drop from one of expectation to one of mild disdain. Picking up on this I began speaking. "Now, I know what you're thinking. The hell is this, right? However, remember that I'm a solo player that managed to manufacture ten of these within a day. That means these weapons are easily disposable and cheaply made. This in turn reduces the price on each rifle." I began showing off my creation as I'd done with my salvage yesterday, running a hand along the frame of the rifle, the smoothened down wood feeling nice and comfortable.

"One shot before needing to reload, as accurate if not a little more than a musket, so they're good for short to mid range engagements. Next, while it is true they're not the most effective weapon for a single person to use, get several of them together and you're just as dangerous as a group with other weapons, and you get a leg up on any competition that isn't working with firearms. Ten of these can outfit two squads of five, allowing you to send out multiple teams in an effort to secure more powerful arms while simultaneously keeping them safe enough to accomplish their mission." I place a single cartridge on the table before pulling the bolt back just enough to show the interior.

"Don't discount this gun because it's not beautiful. When you go for form over function and attempt to produce as much as possible with limited resources, this is the kind of rifle that won't fail you." I could tell that he was thinking about it even as I explained, though his expression showed that he'd clearly hoped for something a bit better than what I had.

"Does that thing even shoot?" His question was one of genuine doubt, and I knew that if I wanted these things to sell I'd have to do everything right. It was for this reason I picked up the single round from the table, loaded it in, and fired straight into the wall to my left, the bullet leaving a small hole in the metal.

At this noise the freezer door swung wide open with the machete wielding player standing there, his expression changing from shock, to fury, and back to shock. "I assure you that I made the others with just as much care as I did with this one." I ejected the casing into my hand, pocketing it with the other before sliding the bolt forward and pulling the trigger once more, a clicking noise emanating from the now empty rifle.

I spent a solid minute waiting as Galactic stared at the gun I placed back on the table, weighing his options, before he finally pulled out the credits and placed them on the table. "While I don't think a long term deal would work, I do agree that being able to arm my people is a smart move. We'll take the first shipment, though I don't think we'll be buying another. Where are the other guns?" I had him wait a moment while I left the freezer, grabbing both bags from underneath the debris and bringing them back inside.

"Hope you brought one of your own bags, I still need one of mine." I emptied the guns from my personal bag, leaving the other on the table still full. Taking the credits as he called in his guildmate who produced his own bag, I shook hands with Galactic once, reminding him that each rifle was chambered for 5.56x45 NATO and nothing else, taking off like a demon was at my heels right after.

I was glad that no guards had shown up, though I assumed it was because this wasn't the safest part of town. Streetlamps both lit and unlit lined the streets, illuminating my path as I walked back in the direction of the market, planning the extra costs in my head for extra duffle bags, and for more wood, pipes, and metal scraps.

Should I spend some extra money on extra supplies?

I debated this problem while pointing my revolver at some particularly pushy NPCs, though they backed off once they realized I was serious. The only problem with buying extra supplies would be the same one that I'd run into with Galactic, seeing as how Slapdash Rifles only had so much value to them. I decided a ledger would be a good thing to have, making a mental note to buy one later.

In the market things were abuzz more than usual. Players all over were attempting to get their hands on guns that had begun flowing in from the outside as the guild's grip on Bastion's gates started loosening. Walking through the crowds and ignoring all the people talking to one another, I found myself at the booth where I'd bought supplies before.

I found out that he actually didn't have everything I needed, getting his supplies from a warehouse near the west side of the city, further from the market than I would've originally suspected. This didn't stop me from buying two extra duffle bags for ten credits each however, stuffing both of them into my personal bag along with everything else.

Hoping I wouldn't be recognized by anyone I pulled my mask on a little tighter, knowing full well that the west side belonged to the other arms dealer who'd first appraised my guns. This fact couldn't stop me from doing what needed to be done though.

The warehouse was between two megabuildings, towering structures that housed NPCs and players alike. I met one of them outside, the NPC wearing a hardhat along with an oversized grey shirt, cargo pants, and a tool belt filled to the brim with tools ranging from simple to fairly complex. "You the guy Rob sent over?" The way he spoke reminded me of a lumberjack, both hearty and strong.

After confirming that I was in fact the one sent to him, I was told that his name was James while he led me inside to check out different sections, each one relating to different materials I was looking for. Things such as screws, nails, piping, wood, and more were all kept together in a single aisle, though each was compartmentalized based on a slew of factors James didn't bother naming.

Since I was also buying in bulk, I had to fill out a number of forms to essentially sign out each screw and part that was going with me. I ended up paying a total of four hundred and fifty credits for everything. It was even a little cheaper than I'd been getting from Rob, who was getting scraps from this place and one of the NPC factories, which was why he was even able to sell the things I was after, despite the low quantities.

It turned out that I'd bought too much so I had to ask if they had any spare bags I could buy off their warehouse, and as luck would have it, they had two that had seen better days. I fixed them up as James told me to bring a truck next time I needed to load up on supplies. I looked like a hunchback with four different bags all weighing me down.

I politely thanked him for the advice as I shuffled out of the building and began heading south, keeping one hand on my Cobra just behind one of the many bags that now covered my body. It was a slow walk, but not an impossible one, several NPCs looking at me rather strangely. Players looked at me like they understood, one even muttering about eighty wheels of cheese.

The NPCs in front of my storage shed just looked me over as if I was stupid, though they didn't bother me as I went inside, shutting the door behind me. Setting everything down, I lit my citrus scented candle this time, the smell rising into the air as I dragged my personal bag underneath the work table in order to have some space to work with.

As I began the process again, pulling pipes and blocks from their respective bags, I thought about whether or not I should hire another player to help out. I began muttering even as I sawed through the wood, sawdust being thrown back and forth.

"If I hire someone, I have to make sure they're trustworthy. I don't know anyone and I'm paranoid so that's two things working against me. I'm also wanted by Lion's Mane. Three things. I have to find someone who's not motivated by short term rewards. Possible guild enemy or actual guild that is an enemy of Lion's Mane. I need someone motivated by a long term vision. Nobody I can think of. Should put out a contract." I stopped working on the frame of the next Slapdash and switched over to making another forum post, this time recruiting new players who were in need of a chance to make some money.

When the inevitable bounty was posted on that same thread, I added that while a short term reward might seem valuable, a long term profit could be worth so much more. WIth this done all I could do was wait, trusting that I would find someone who wouldn't sell me out. I got back to work, the smell of citrus strangely reminding me of the times when I would make lemonade from the lemon tree at my grandmother's house. It was a nice memory, one that brought a small smile to my face even as the poor air quality fought to overwhelm it.

Comment trickled in as familiar names talked about how I'd been fair and just in my dealings, GalacticHitchhiker, JelloBelly, and CultivationMania all defended my honor just by talking about their experiences with me. It was weird to see anyone defending me after all the years I'd spent alone, especially Galactic, since I'd only done business with them very recently.

I shrugged off the feeling and kept going, putting together the parts and pieces that would make the trigger assembly. Sadly there wasn't the ability to connect to anything other than the forums without items, so I couldn't get any music going, the only noise I had to accompany my efforts being the NPCs outside.

As time went on and rifle after rifle was created, I saw more comments as part of my post devolved into a flame war, while other comments were players either looking for a job, or the quick money Lion's Mane would provide. Some promised to split the money with me, while others phrased things in ways that just reeked of shady business to my paranoid mind.

I eventually just settled on picking someone who talked about working with their hands in a way that bordered on obsessive. I sent them a message saying to meet me at the house I'd neglected to use for my trade deals, making the proper arrangements so they wouldn't get lost. I then proceeded to clean myself off as I stuffed some extra rounds for my revolver into my pockets, placing the spent casings from earlier onto the workbench. Lifting the door up to the outside, the NPCs barely even glanced over at me as I locked up the heavy chain and padlock that served to keep things secure.

"Let's see if you can convince someone not to betray you, Keldath..." I muttered to myself a little as I walked, unsure if I was headed toward a bright future or a quick and violent character death.