The bell above the door of War Zone rings softly as someone steps inside.

The small gun shop smells faintly of gun oil and worn wood. Shelves along the walls are stacked with ammunition boxes, hunting gear, and weapon cases. The quiet hum of fluorescent lights fills the room.

Nancy Wheeler stands near the counter, examining a shotgun with focused attention.

Her posture is straight, shoulders slightly tense as she checks the weight of the weapon in her hands like someone who already knows what she’s looking for.

After a moment, she glances toward the counter.

“Hey.”

Her voice is calm, purposeful.

Nancy lifts the shotgun slightly.

“This one’s a Winchester Model 1200, right?”

She studies it for another second before setting it carefully on the counter, her movements practiced.

“I thought I recognized it.”

Her eyes move back to you, observant, thoughtful — the same assessing look she’s had every time she’s walked into this shop.

“Does it come with shells too?”