The armory was the most important building at the shooting range.
Sun Jia had built it into the side of a mountain. Just to excavate the rock, he had hired Old Swan, who used heavy machinery and an impact drill for several days to hollow out the mountainside.
Then, a helicopter was brought in to airlift the materials for the vault. The entire room was five square ters, its walls welded from 20-centiter-thick steel plates. The whole structure was embedded in the middle of the mountain, and the entrance was a professional blast-proof door that required two keys and a remote password to unlock.
The main priorities were security and reliability.
After all, the vault stored over forty fully automatic rifles, handguns, and submachine guns, as well as three types of heavy machine guns and a massive amount of ammunition. With that kind of firepower, never mind a police departnt back ho—even the Fairbanks Police Departnt would have to concede defeat.
"Khilla, here’s the manifest!" Yves said, holding out an inventory list.
Taking the list, Feng Mountain glanced over it. Each type of firearm was boxed and sealed according to its serial number. All they had to do was open the boxes and inspect them by number during receiving.
"Crate FBOAB0001. Three AK-47s inside."
"Serial numbers are 19801B123, 124, and 125."
"Over here," Wawa said, raising his hand and pointing to the snowmobile trailer beside him.
Yves and three retired-veteran employees walked over, found the numbered crate, and carried it over to Feng Mountain to open it.
They broke the seal and opened the lid. Three brand-new AK-47s, coated in gun oil, lay inside the box. The supplier had even thoughtfully included a few spare magazines. Yves picked up an AK-47, expertly racked the bolt, and after a quick inspection, said...
"Boss, no problems. They’re new, the actions haven’t been cycled, and the serials are correct."
Yves’s inspection was concise and efficient. His professional judgnt put Feng Mountain at ease.
As an experienced military veteran, Yves’s knowledge of firearms was bone-deep. His inspection wasn’t just a confirmation of the weapons’ quality; it was an assurance of the shooting range’s safety.
"Alright. Gunpowder, Bat, take the crate to the armory. Sun Jia, you go with them," Feng Mountain nodded, then continued down the list.
The scene looked a lot like a gang’s arms deal from a TV show.
However, this was no illegal transaction. It was a necessary procedure for the shooting range’s normal operation. Ensuring the secure storage and managent of firearms, all within legal and regulatory bounds, was a crucial responsibility of the range.
Furthermore, Feng Mountain had to carefully verify the serial number and condition of each gun. After the inspection was complete, he had to sign the paperwork and give it to Chief Bird to be filed at the police departnt.
"Crate FBOAB0002. Five M16A4s. Serials..."
"Count is right. Brand new. Serials are correct."
"Crate FBOAB0003. Five AR-15s. Serials..."
"Count is right. Brand new. Serials are correct."
"Crate FBOAB0004. Five HK416s. Serials..."
"Count is right. Brand new. Serials are correct."
...
「As ti went on.」
The number of crates on the trailer gradually dwindled.
The once mountain-like pile of crates was properly stored away, one by one, thanks to everyone’s busy work.
Finally, only a few large equipnt cases remained. Everyone’s eyes lit up as they stared at them.
General-purpose machine guns!
Firearms even more ferocious than fully automatic weapons—heavy firepower generally only used by the military.
The imnse firepower and intimidating appearance of a general-purpose machine gun imdiately brought to mind intense battlefield scenes. At this range, they would undoubtedly offer shooting enthusiasts a whole new experience.
"Buddy, hurry up and open it! I can’t wait to see it." Bird put down his phone and strode over to Feng Mountain, his face full of excitent and anticipation.
As Yves and Nash set down a long, rectangular equipnt case made of industrial polyr, they broke the seal, unfastened the latches, and opened it.
An M60 general-purpose machine gun lay inside.
It was a remarkable weapon. Its black tal body glead with a cold luster. Even though it was an obsolete model, its powerful presence instantly filled the air.
The M60 general-purpose machine gun was officially standardized and put into full production in 1957. It was adopted by the US Military in 1958 and is one of the most famous machine guns in the world.
Although the M60 Feng Mountain had purchased was manufactured thirty years ago, it had been maintained as if it were brand new. You could hardly see any trace of age on its gleaming tal surface.
According to the information on the manifest, this gun had been kept in a warehouse ever since it left the factory and had never been fired.
Including the bipod, the entire gun weighed 11 kilograms.
Holding it, Feng Mountain had the strange feeling that he wanted to go to war.
"Buddy, you have to let try this thing later. I’m in love with it!" The mont Chief Bird saw the M60, his eyes were glued to the gun, unable to look away.
"Here, hold it!" Feng Mountain casually tossed the M60 to the chief and gestured for the remaining two equipnt cases to be opened.
The second case they opened contained a PKM.
Its distinctive brownish-yellow solid wood stock and carrying handle imdiately caught everyone’s eye. The rugged, simple construction was overflowing with classic Old Russian style.
If the M60 was new money, then the PKM was a bona fide brutish drunk.
The PKM had no ornate decorations or complex designs; it was all about simple durability and explosive firepower.
However, Sun Jia was the only one present who liked this PKM general-purpose machine gun. Perhaps because of his military service back ho, he had a special love for Soviet-style weapons.
’Here it cos, here it cos!’
The last case held Feng Mountain’s true favorite.
The MG42. The "Linen Ripper." Hitler’s Buzzsaw.
Feng Mountain had stumbled upon this gun in the antique firearms section of the FBO website. Due to its high price, it had gone unsold.
The 45,000 US Dollar price tag made potential buyers hesitate.
Many people had left comnts on its sales page, hoping the seller would lower the price.
The seller was stubborn, refusing to drop the price by even one cent, and even threatened to raise it.
Unfortunately for the seller, before they had a chance to raise the price, Feng Mountain snapped it up for a bargain.
According to the item description...
During World War II, an Arican soldier had seized this gun from an armory after entering Germany. At the ti, due to a lack of ammunition, it was stored away in a basent warehouse.
After the war, since the MG series had been produced in large numbers, many were secretly brought back to the United States by Arican soldiers. However, a weapon of mass destruction like a machine gun couldn’t be officially sent ho as a war trophy.
So, many Arican G.I.s disassembled the guns to ship them back. The result was that while there were many MG42s in the United States, most of them were mix-masters with mismatched serial numbers from all over.
But this particular MG42 had been brought back by that soldier through special channels. It had been ticulously maintained for half a century, leaving it in exceptional condition. Furthermore, all its parts were original and factory-matched, with identical serial numbers, which was the reason for its high price.
When Yves opened the case...
The MG42 that Feng Mountain had been dreaming of appeared before his eyes.
The machine gun’s appearance was highly distinctive, radiating a cold and lethal aura.
From an overall aesthetic standpoint, it presented a clean and practical industrial beauty.
The lines of the receiver were stark, with utilitarianism at its design core. There were no superfluous decorations. The main body, forged from sturdy tal, gave off a feeling of solid reliability.
The barrel was long and straight, gleaming with a tallic sheen. Regularly spaced cooling vents, arranged like a honeycomb, not only ensured the barrel could rapidly dissipate heat during sustained fire but also added a unique visual effect to the entire gun.
Below the barrel was its unique bipod. When deployed, it was like two sharp claws, gripping the ground firmly to provide a stable firing platform for the machine gun.
Feng Mountain rushed forward and cradled the MG42 in his arms, the sheer joy on his face practically overflowing.
"Sun, I’m keeping this one. A gun this rare, I have to add it to my personal collection. I’ll pay for it myself!"
"No problem, as long as you like it!" Sun Jia waved his hand dismissively. In any case, the general-purpose machine guns were just there to be showpieces. At most, tourists would only ever shoot the handguns and rifles.
"Guys, enough talk! How about we go test them out?" Chief Bird was practically spinning in circles with impatience, the M60 slung over his shoulder.
"Nash, grab a case of 7.92mm ammo."
Feng Mountain grinned, picked up the MG42, and headed for the shooting range.
The MG42 used different ammunition from the M60 and PKM. The latter two used 7.62mm rifle rounds, while the MG42 used the century-old 7.92mm rifle round. Because of its large caliber, this type of ammunition had long been out of production.
For this reason, Feng Mountain had paid a high price on the FBO website to buy two cases of half-century-old 7.92mm rifle rounds from an Old Russian dealer, just to feed the MG42.
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