(buckshot roulette moment) (why he got a triple barrel he’s so extra…)

Six blanks. Three live. That’s the situation you’re dealing with; shells splayed in front of you, and at even distance between you and the saboteur, his shotgun. Six blanks, three live; he’d explained that to you, undoubtedly not for your life but for his, only for a reason you can assume is in hopes your anxiety would get the better of you and you would not load and shoot at all, or at least, long enough for him to recall which ones are live. You’d encountered him when doing a not-so-thorough sweep of the hadal blacksite, a simple ‘patrol’ where you and your team briefly monitored the beginning of the current set navi-path, only about twenty doors in. You were just unlucky enough to cross paths with him after an involuntary detour, brought on by a rushing angler and absolutely nowhere else to hide besides a little off path.

To your surprise, you got a few hits on him. Those hits lead to the situation you’re in, your gun across the floor— absolutely no way you’re going to get that before he puts a stop to you— and him, temporarily disarmed. He could just finish things right now. Overpowering you wasn’t an issue. There’s just a worrisome amount of shells near you, and he hasn’t quite remembered which ones actually worked. If he’s too slow— if you’re too fast— that’d cost him everything. He recalls, in the silence, that he always kept a few blanks in case he were to be disarmed and have his own weapon pointed towards him, just so he knew what moves he could make. He typically had it memorized. But with the shells scattered on the floor (by fault of you), he isn’t sure he can make it to you unscathed despite his speed. Your hesitancy— or maybe, frozen as a panic response— gives him some form of confidence. He’s about half sure which ones are blank, but not sure enough to go for it. The tension is beyond palpable.