Raise! Frankie Mill thought of the most useful words in wartime. When the soldiers were on the march and didn't eat or drink, they had to raise some rations or something. As for the method of fundraising, it is very simple. There are two kinds of in total, one is blatant, the effect is very good but the reputation is not good, in the final analysis, it is a robbery. The other is not to disturb the people, the effect is generally not bad, in the final analysis, it is a thief. And the so-called fundraising, since ancient times, is just a nickname for robbing and stealing, but no army will think that the common people do not love him, they must love, because they have guns.

At this moment, the first method obviously does not work, such a large manor, to say the least there are hundreds of people, can only choose the second method, which is the best and most appropriate method.

Frankmir parked the "Nine Strands" under a pine tree next to the road, and he buried them with the surrounding snow to prevent anyone from spotting him.

He cautiously walked towards the manor, gradually seeing the majestic buildings in the manor. This place looks like an arsenal. Frankimir continued on his way and soon saw the "mechanical spark" painted on the building, which was the emblem of the Cybbalists. The "Mechanics" were one of the three major factions in the Soviet Union, and together with the "Structurists" and the "Industrialists", they constituted the main camp of the Bolsheviks in the Soviet Union, while the Tolstoys, Darwinists, and Mendelians could only belong to the ranks of the Mensheviks in the Soviet Union.

Frank Mire, the pattern man of the "Mechanical Spark", realizes that this is the commune of the Mechanicals. The mechanical party always lived a commune-like collective life, in which all the goods of subsistence were distributed equally by the commune, and they were pure egalitarians. More than four-fifths of the members of the new supreme authority were Mechanicals, who had imposing commune quarters in all the major cities of the Soviet Union.

Frankymir's father and wife, both of whom were members of the standard Pasteur party, and of course Frankymir's father, who was also the leader of the Leonardo da Vinci, were obsessed with industrial biology and medical microbiology for many years. And Frankimir has no partisan likes and dislikes, and never cares about this kind of intriguing political game. He didn't know anything about the Pasteurists, much less the Mechanicals, the only thing he knew was the imposing-looking "mechanical spark" sign, and nothing else.

Nor is it completely ignorant, living in the present, he has more or less heard of some situations. He knew that the robo-like Mechanics who advocated violence would never let themselves suffer any losses. He's going to steal the mechanics' fuel now, and if he's discovered, cutting him into eight pieces will be the most merciful punishment he'll ever get.

Frankimir swallowed hard, his feet began to go limp, and he was about to turn back and put an end to the uncertain plan. But without fuel, where could he go? It would have been nice to join the ranks of the Robots sooner.

Frankmir had no choice but to keep going, and without fuel, he couldn't go anywhere. Fortunately, it was late at night, and the mechanical party in the commune should have already fallen asleep and would not pose a threat to him.

That being said, going straight through the gate, it obviously won't work, and even if everyone is asleep, at least there are janitors keeping vigil. Frankimir searched carefully along the tall walls of the commune, exploring ways to enter the commune.

Soon Frankimir spotted a huge pine tree, with a tall trunk that stretched out from a branch that was more than within the walls. Frankimir climbed the pine tree with agility and carefully observed his surroundings, but there was no one in the courtyard, let alone a hound or robot guarding the yard. Perhaps there was no need for a nursing home here, and who would have believed that someone would be bold enough to steal the Commune of the Mechanics.

Eliminating all risks, Frankimir slipped into the walls of the commune with the help of a tree branch. The commune was very quiet at midnight, and the slight creaking of the snow could be heard very clearly from a distance.

As a rule of thumb, the oil depot used to store refined oil must have been locked at this point, and it was not easy to try to pry the door open with bare hands. Just because you can find a lot of refined oil in oil depots doesn't mean you don't have refined oil anywhere else. The Commune of the Mechnologists had many machine shops, and the presence of production workshops meant that there would also be refined petroleum there. Compared with the oil depot, the oil management in the workshop is much more lax. It can be said that in the vicinity of any machine tool or finished product ready for commissioning, you can find a barrel and a half of oil. For the sake of convenience, workers are always willing to put oil in the most accessible place, which can avoid many unnecessary troubles. And most importantly, of course, the commune, like the factory, the production hall is usually not locked.

Franky Mire doesn't need much fuel, and his "nine puffs of smoke" can only hold a maximum of 70 liters of refined oil, which is already the largest tank of fuel for a catamaran in the world. For a large workshop, it is very easy to find 70 liters of refined petroleum.

Under the dark night sky, Frankimir searched for the location of the machine shop with the help of the moonlight and the reflection of the snow. All the buildings here don't look any different, and finding the machine shop is not an easy task. Frankimir was very confident in himself, and he thought that such a large commune could not have only one machine shop. There should be a lot of machine shops here, and he only needs to find one of them, which won't be a difficult thing to do.

Heaven paid off, and soon Frankimir found a mechanical workshop, which was still a large workshop. It was as if some kind of large machinery was being built in the workshop, and every mechanical part placed in the workshop was so large that it was immediately recognizable that it was not an ordinary conventional model. Frank Mire was confident that he would find enough fuel here, and he was just curious about the giant components, not wanting to leave the middle workshop so soon, knowing that before he figured out the answer.

The mechanical parts in the workshop, the shape is smooth and smooth, the unpretentious appearance gives people a positive combat force, serious but not rigid, solemn but not exaggerated, full of the metallic sense of the industrial party machinery, and at the same time there are some structural party machinery structural beauty. Judging by the appearance of these parts, they should be used to assemble some kind of giant mecha. However, Frankimir was never able to connect these parts to any of the models of mechs he knew. There was no finished product in this place, and he could only imagine the finished state of the mech from the scattered parts. According to his estimates, this mecha will be more than fifty meters at least, and maybe even reach eighty meters. If it really exceeds 80 meters, then only the Soviet "Kirov" type mecha in the world can exceed the height that this unfinished mecha can reach.

Is this a new generation of mechs? Frank Mill's intense curiosity made him eager to know the answer, which made him forget about collecting fuel for a while, and he wanted to know more about this novel mecha. He wanted to take a closer look at every part here, and soon he found that all of them were painted red, and most of them were already covered with a thick layer of dust, judging from the thickness of the air dust, these machines had been idle for half a year, and had not been moved here.

It looks like the mecha is halfway through production, and then it suddenly stops working. It is incomprehensible that such a large-scale project would be abandoned halfway. Is it because the technical difficulties cannot be overcome, or is it far beyond the budget and depleting R&D funds? Now that the Mechanics are in power, they can't afford to have a financial problem. It can only be that the technical difficulties cannot be overcome, but if the technical difficulties cannot be overcome, how can such a large-scale construction project be rashly started.

Frankimir couldn't figure out what kind of mecha it was, so huge and yet halfway. As Frank Mire takes a closer look at a part that resembles the head of a mech, he stumbles upon the Chinese flag painted on the part. Could it be that this is a mecha built for China, and why would the highest authorities help China build such a large mecha?

The more Frankie Mill tries to find out, the more questions he will find. He gradually realized that his time in the machine shop was a little too long. The night is long and dreamy, he can't stay here any longer, he must leave as soon as possible.

Frankmir quickly found a tin oil drum and quickly collected the oil he needed in the machine shop, and in less than ten minutes he had a full barrel of oil. This is enough for him, and it can even be said that it is more than enough.

Frankimir was about to leave with the oil barrel in his hand, and now it seemed a little unlikely that he would want to cross the wall again, and he had to take care of the oil drum in his hand. Frankimir thought about a way to escape as he slowly walked towards the door of the machine shop. Suddenly, his feet tightened, and when he tried to retract his feet, it was too late, and his whole body was hung upside down, and the oil drum fell on the white snow reflecting the moonlight.

This is over, Frank Mimir thought to himself. He didn't know what the Mechists' political intentions were, but he had heard of the Mechists, who would do whatever it took to their cruelties. He stole oil and caught the stolen goods, and the Cyborg couldn't give him any chance to defend himself.

Frankimir thought to himself that maybe they would torture him, then cut off his flesh piece by piece, and finally throw him into a boiler and burn him alive. The more he thought about it, the more terrified Frank Mire became, and he involuntarily shook his head, waiting for the inevitable doom to come.

However, time was too long for him, and he waited a long time without being able to get any response. Frankimir tried to open his eyes, could it be just an unguarded trap to keep out thieves. If that were the case, he would have been hung until dawn, which was too cruel, even more cruel than killing him right away.

Franky Mill began to try any way to escape, and although he thought of many methods, it was not easy to operate, and he could barely control his body when he lost his center of gravity.

In the darkness of the night, Frankimir saw a pair of eyes, as bright as the North Star, staring at him so hard that he was hairy and overwhelmed.