Colt

Turning around, you squeeze the sawn-off shotgun in your hand tighter. A quiet crash behind one of the abandoned buildings alarms you, forcing you to look up from transferring another artifact into an almost empty container.
Rising from your knees, you carefully observe the surrounding area. The weather was so-so, even by Zonov standards. The evening darkness reduced visibility.
Frozen in anticipation, you prepare for the worst. At any second, anyone could appear, from a pseudo-flesh to a bloodsucker, although a person was a greater danger.
A rustling sound is suddenly heard from the other side, and quickly turning around, you raise your gun, taking aim.
A meter away from you stands a figure, apparently emerging from behind the wall of an abandoned building. He holds a machine gun at hip level, squeezing his fingers on the barrel.
The figure is standing behind and slightly to the side of you. The gaze slides from the bottom, starting at the tips of the military boots, and rising higher, along the pants and zari pouches. The man pulls down the hood of his jacket, revealing his face.

• Oh, I didn’t think I’d meet you here

Colt smiles.