A Retired KGB Veteran?

Chen Ge reached out and took the work-of-art offensive handgun from Big Bear. HK's MK23 was less famous than the USP, P30, or VP9, mainly due to its exceptionally low production volume. It had plenty of virtues: extreme accuracy, freakish reliability, and devastating stopping power. Firing .45 ACP +P rounds with a muzzle energy of 725 joules, it could neutralize a target in a single shot within fifty meters—far outperforming 9mm rounds. It boasted a flawless suppressor system, rugged durability, and friendly ergonomics. Its drawbacks were just as glaring: it was massive and heavy. Unloaded, it weighed 1.2 kilograms, rising to 1.5 kilograms with the suppressor attached. Sized like a Desert Eagle, its portability was atrocious, putting a real strain on anyone carrying it. Handling was clumsy; its thick grip was difficult for shooters with smaller hands to hold firmly, its center of gravity sat too far forward, pointability was sluggish, and in CQB it lacked the nimble responsiveness of compact 9mm pistols. Heavy recoil, finicky maintenance... These unavoidable flaws ultimately led US special operations forces to abandon it. Yet those who loved it truly loved it down to their bones—like Trench. Chen Ge hefted the weighty MK23, pulled out his phone, snapped a photo, and sent it to Trench. Seconds later, Trench replied with a string of question marks. Trench: *Where did you find this picture? Is that the military issue?* Chen Ge took a few more pictures from different angles and sent them over. G: *Want it? I can buy it for you.* Trench: *Yes yes yes!! Buy it! Name the price, anything! Please make sure you buy it for me! Does it come with accessories? Even without them, get it!* Even through the screen, Chen Ge could feel Trench's wild ecstasy. G: *Let me ask.* Chen Ge typed a quick reply, then carried the gun over to Thunderstone. "Mr. Thunderstone, does this gun come with accessories, or is it just the bare pistol?" Thunderstone glanced up and said, "Comes with full military paperwork, the original SOCOM case, manual, and spare parts. I acquired it last year for $21,500. If you want it, give me $22,000. "By the way, no photos. You know how it is!" Chen Ge smiled and nodded. "I only snapped a picture of this gun. A friend loves it, so I'm buying it for him." "Then he's definitely buying it for a collection. The MK23 isn't suited for combat—it's way too heavy. Your FNX-45 is a much better choice." Thunderstone offered his professional assessment. Chen Ge couldn't agree more. The MK23 had originally been designed for the SOCOM Offensive Handgun Weapon System program; its role wasn't self-defense, but to serve as an offensive supplement to primary weapons. Long range, immense power, high accuracy—ideal for diving or reconnaissance missions. Yet in urban combat, its overall performance couldn't match the FNX-45 he had traded from Rock. The MK23 held 12+1 rounds, while the FNX-45 had 15+1, and the latter was 300 grams lighter overall. Chen Ge pulled out a pack of Dunhills, drew a cigarette, and offered it to Thunderstone. "Thank you, Mr. Thunderstone. At this price, you're taking a loss. A complete MK23 with all original accessories carries a massive market markup—it should easily fetch $25,000, shouldn't it?" Thunderstone took the cigarette, placed it between his lips, and sparked his lighter. "It could fetch thirty grand!" Chen Ge's hand shook slightly as he lit his own cigarette. "Uh... then I can pay you—" "No need!" Thunderstone looked at Chen Ge with a smile, his eyes filled with admiration. "I'm a man of my word. Everything in this shop goes to you at cost. Besides, I'd like to make a friend out of you—a real friend. What do you say?" "Of course! It's my honor to be friends with you, Mr. Thunderstone." Chen Ge pulled over a nearby stool, sat down, took off his mask, and extended his hand toward Thunderstone. "Allow me to introduce myself properly: my Chinese name is Chen Ting, Russian name Konstantin. I'm twenty-one this year." Thunderstone sat up straight and shook Chen Ge's hand. "Fyodor. Muscovite. Retired KGB veteran. Served eight years at the Dresden station in East Germany." *Holy hell... Now that's something!* Russian names often had diminutives, such as Kostya for Konstantin. "Mr. Thunderstone, you..." Thunderstone waved his hand. "Just call me brother. As you Chinese say, we can be friends across generations! "I know your China quite well. Lived there for four years. Back then, you weren't even born, and your father was probably still a kid. Care to guess what I was doing in China?" Chen Ge rolled his eyes inwardly. *You just told me you were KGB. What else would you be doing in China—selling Russian souvenirs?* "I'm guessing you were doing business in Northeast China." Thunderstone froze for two seconds, then asked, "How did you know it was the Northeast?" Chen Ge exhaled a puff of smoke and smiled. "Because when you spoke Chinese just now, you had a slight Northeastern accent. Foreigners wouldn't catch it, but a Chinese person can pick it out instantly." Hearing that, Thunderstone was enlightened. "I see! You guessed right. I really was 'doing business' in the Northeast. Went there in 1979 and was reassigned in 1983..." Listening to Thunderstone describe the nature of his work, Chen Ge felt lines running down his forehead, his lip twitching fiercely. He was completely speechless. *You're a retired KGB agent telling a Chinese guy all about how you stole intelligence in China back then. Is that really appropriate?* "Old brother, could we change the subject? I'm feeling a bit uncomfortable." Thunderstone cut his reminiscence short, smacking his lips with lingering nostalgia. "Kostya, you're quite a handsome fellow. You're only twenty-one this year? How many years have you practiced martial arts?" "Eight months." "What?" Thunderstone was dumbfounded. He sprang up so violently that the cigarette between his fingers went flying, staring dead at Chen Ge with an expression that screamed, *Are you messing with me?* "Eight months? Impossible! Absolutely impossible!" Without batting an eye, Chen Ge said, "It's the truth, I wouldn't lie to you. If you don't believe me, you can ask Lightbulb and the others. I started training in martial arts this February, and only recently made some modest progress." Night Cat, wheeling a shopping cart past them, stopped in his tracks to back Chen Ge up. "Mr. Thunderstone, Sledgehammer isn't lying. This guy's talent is unreal... Fuck, I'm getting jealous all over again. God really isn't fair!" Cursing under his breath, Night Cat pushed his cart onward. Thunderstone circled Chen Ge, his eyes lit up like lightbulbs, scanning him up and down and side to side like radar. "Kostya, someone as talented as you—why come to Russia to be a mercenary?" Chen Ge toyed with the handgun and replied in all seriousness, "I like guns." As a retired secret agent, Thunderstone naturally knew Chen Ge was talking nonsense, but having a keen sense of boundaries, he didn't pry. He sat back down in his chair and, without caring that it had touched the floor, picked up the extinguished half-cigarette, sparking it back to life with his lighter. "How long have you been working for the Cook? How much time is left on your contract?" There was no need to hide something like this, so Chen Ge told the truth. "Signed in August last year. An eighteen-month term, six months left." "Going to renew?" Chen Ge pondered briefly and gave an ambiguous answer. "Haven't thought that far ahead yet! We'll see if I can stay alive until the contract expires. You know the situation in Bakhmut—whether I can even survive another six months there is anyone's guess!"