"Hey man, you connected with a gang?"
Feng Shan frowned. Gangs in Alaska weren't like the ones back home who just played around with knives.
Here, they meant business. Pistols, high-powered rifles, shotguns, automatic weapons... they didn't care who you were, they'd pull the trigger on sight.
The main reason was that you didn't need a license to buy a gun in Alaska. Plus, it was close to the Old Russians, and the complex geography of the sea and border regions meant smuggling was rampant. It was easy to get your hands on weapons.
He never wanted to get tangled up with gangs. It was best if everyone just did their own thing, live and let live.
"A man's gotta live," Tom answered evasively.
Feng Shan lost the desire to continue the conversation. The atmosphere in the truck became tense again.
The Pickup Truck drove around a residential community and arrived at the entrance to a city park. The old, rusty iron gate showed it hadn't been maintained in a long time.
