"Oi!" [i] The voice yelled, a shuffling heard before a body heaved itself out of the broken window, careful of the glass. Standing up, the man would see the person he'd rescued.[/i] [i]Standing at only around 5'8", the man, borderline teenager, looked to be around eighteen. He wore a black tank top, with a green bandana tied around his left arm. Dark red hair fell in his face, emerald Green eyes with gold flakes in the irises looking outwards. Dog tags also hung from his neck. His mouth seemed stuck in a permanent almost grin, like there was a joke he always found funny. He was slight in build, having a bit of toned muscle on him but not much from his overall lean frame.[/i] "Thanks for not shooting me, name's Ian." [i] He speaks, holding out a hand to shake. The palms of his hands were dirty with engine grease, almost stained. Spots of it could be spotted on his faded skinny jeans and face, clearly a mechanic of sorts. [/i]

The man that stood before the borderline teenager was like the exact opposite of him. He looked to be old, possibly in his early sixties, he had a gray trim haircut accompanied by a gray, thick but trim beard as well. The old man had stark blue eyes that was looking the 18-year old up and down. Then the man wore a beige trenchcoat, with no straps to hug it tightly to his chest so it was just left open to reveal his black turtleneck sweater. The man had on white gloves which concealed his hands and he also wore khakis and dress shoes..for whatever reason. But the most notable thing about him was the shotgun in his hand. He had it painted carbon black, it was a pump action shotgun with a red dot sight upon it. Instead of shells it fired Uranium Tipped Slugs, which he held the weapon with ease in one hand, leaving the other open and he shook. "Well then, I was [i]not[/i] expecting this..."