As they grew closer, the building became more distinct. Walls of blown-out cars, steel pipe, an ancient M1 Abrams tank, and the cockpit of a fighter jet. In the middle was a relatively intact car with two pullies attached to it. Two men crawled up onto the pile of junk and raised shotguns.
"¿Quiénes son usted y qué usted desean, gringos?"
Peter stepped back.
"I'm sorry? We don't speak...that."
"Who are you and what do you want?"
The second man lowered his gun.
"Calma abajo, Carlos. Estos gringos no son deathclaws. Aunque los arman a los dientes."
Peter turned and muttered in Roll's ear. "We better watch it, boss. I bet they're Chinese. It fits."