"I... I can't afford it."
The burly captain said with a mournful face. They knew they had kicked an iron plate.
The military-surplus firearms they carried were already top-tier products in the civilian market, but those terrifying-looking armed robots and that large-caliber nine-barreled Vulcan Cannon... How could they possibly afford them?!
Even if they could afford them, they couldn't afford to use them!
Nine thousand rounds per minute—other than the military and the wealthy, who would dare play around so recklessly with that kind of consumption?
They were fucking blind. They had run into an arms dealer.
Anyone who spent years out here knew that among those roaming the stars, assassin groups and arms dealers were not people to provoke lightly.
Now they had so many Vulcan Cannons aimed at them. Who knew what else had yet to appear behind them?
They wouldn't even be surprised if another row of mechs showed up.
That was what arms dealers did for a living!
A small mercenary squad like theirs didn't even count as third-rate on Greymark Star... They really wanted to slap themselves!
Smack!
One of their companions immediately slapped himself hard and smiled ingratiatingly. "So you're an esteemed arms dealer, sir. Your weapons are so refined, they must be incredibly expensive. People at our level aren't even worthy of polishing your shoes. How could we afford weapons like these? We offended you today, so please allow us to apologize!"
Smack!
Smack!
Several more slaps rang out in succession, utterly without pretense.
With every slap, a clear handprint rose on their faces.
Seeing his companions act so decisively, the burly captain's eyes widened. He cursed inwardly. Aren't these bastards selling me out?
Fuck!
The burly captain instantly gave himself two slaps, swelling his face high until it looked like a pig's