Goggles and Gunpoint

Things escalate in a post apocalyptic world when a lone scavenger comes upon unwanted company. All are my original characters.

There was a loud howling outside as the sandstorms picked up, raging worse then before, causing the busy figure inside to move with increasing urgency. The building was little more than a hut, the concrete and mud structure reminiscent of the ancient times before humanity's grip on nature rose then fell, leaving the world a decaying wasteland of increasing heat and barren desert. There was supplies inside, though, and that the figure knew for sure; they were slim, their lithe frame wrapped in dirt stained bandages and wraps to hide their skin from the harsh light and sand particles outside. Their head was hidden under a large hood, with more cloth covering the majority of the bottom of their face, from which furrowed brown eyes scanned through the contents which their hands were uncovering.

Inside was the dried up corpse of a man, a person of knowledge, which had a number of hard to come by trinkets and medicines stashed within the pockets and bags. They had already discovered a sort of electronic, batteries long since needing charging, and a decent string of electrical wiring and a few tiny tools. Those alone would fetch a good price on the market, if only they could loot faster and retreat before the weather was so bad it pinned them inside until the storm passes. Their tattered cloak waved behind them as they rustled busily, small glove covered fingers flickering from pocket to pocket with expertise precision. "Come on, come on.. There must have been *something* that would make this fool's errand worth the trouble..." Their voice was murmured, tense with barely concealed frustration.

However as the seconds dragged past, the howling of the winds outside were demanding to be acknowledged and they knew their time for scavenging was up. "Damn it all to hell," they hissed, pulling away abruptly with an angry glare at the body, as if it were it's own fault they made it to the dangerous destination in the first place. They grabbed a discarded pack from the ground, slinging the one strapped pack over their shoulder before facing the outside. Only a tattered cloth door kept the elements out of the abandoned shack and they quickly ducked outside, pulling the cloth on their face up to their eyes for added protection. The sandstorm dragged at them, pushing and pulling like an unruly child, but they stubbornly stepped forward with determination. From beneath their hood, they pulled down a pair of bronze and gold goggles, covering their dark eyes with green lenses.

It was very dangerous to be attempting travel in the weather, but they had no options to be cautious. It was the life of a drifter, a scavenger, and they needed to reach the nearby settlement before the sun fell and everything was freezing. Narrowing their eyes, they pressed onward, holding the bag close to their thin frame as they moved determinedly. A time passed with little change, their only companion the endless howling of the sandstorm, but when the sun was starting to dip in the sky, something was suddenly wrong.

They froze, lifting their head and trying to pinpoint exactly why their senses just started screaming 'danger!' Several seconds passed and nothing changed, but then they heard it, the creaking of a transport. Their head snapped towards the direction, eyes wide and alert. There was no place to hide if they were raiders, and they hoped to any deity that existed that it was a harmless caravan.

They slowly were able to make out the square shape of what was the same shape and size of a train car, with with specialised wheels to brave the desert. In front of it, however, were a pair of massive horses, with riders whom also had attire similar to the scavenger's. 'Oh s**t,' they thought. 'They have guards?'
Helpless, they could only stare as the strangers approached, the pair atop the animals hooded and unable to be identified. When they got closer, however, they noticed the shimmering of metal at the sides of the two riders. *Weapons.* Slim, sharp swords slept in their masters' scabbards and suddenly they felt far from safe. Their reflex was flawless, digging into their side and snapping out a weapon to hold up bravely at the out numbering strangers. They called out, through the wind, "I don't want any trouble!"

Their voice was not as deep as they would have preferred, giving away the reason for their smaller, lithe frame as they clearly sounded like the woman they were. Their heart pumped loudly in their ears, almost rivaling the sands, and within a few seconds the group reached where she was. The two atop the horses shared a glance before the one on the right raised their hands.
"Don't shoot! I'm coming down," they shouted, also revealing themself as female, before dismounting her horse.

The scavenger watched with unblinking eyes, her gun trained on the woman who approached. She had the clear attire of a hired mercenary, common in that time and necessary for any sort of transport, with dull armour and various pouches and knives attached all over her body. The real question was if the woman was human or not.
The most common type of merc were *hunters*, the ones deemed that by their shape shifting abilities to hunt the monsters which prowled the ruined world. They were humans whom had an animal form, with gear and weapons specially crafted to stay on their body when they changed, making them a danger no matter the shape. Most often they had rough, dangerous lives and died young, trained in order to be armed to the teeth and crafty buggers. The scavenger was no stranger to their kind.

The woman kept her own hood up, eyeing the weapon in their hands wearily but made no aggressive action. She spoke loudly to be heard through the growing storm, both of their clothes being blown violently in the wind. "We're heading through to Ariadale," she explained, naming a nearby commerce central. "We have a client who only wants safe travels, and I don't think a single you can take on a whole group of hunters." The threat was not said tauntingly, but still the two women kept a strict eye contact even as their own fears were confirmed. 'How many *are* there?'

"I'm heading to Ariadale, too," they replied, not lowering the weapon. "How do I know you mean *me* no harm?"

The hunter gave a quiet laugh, her eyes betraying her amusement. "We are paid to keep the boss safe, not to pick off lowly scavengers-- no offense," she added without missing a beat. "Though, I am curious as to where you obtained a gun." They gave nothing away, only the fabric of their clothing moving with the elements. "Those are hard to come by, even harder to keep working. In fact, usually the cost of ammo and upkeep is not worth the impractical use of actually firing the weapon," she continued cooly.

Their heart thumped even faster in their ears, the hot rush of adrenalin heating and chilling their blood at the same time as they replied just as nonchalantly. "It's a luxury I can afford, I'm not as poor as a lowly hunter-- no offense."

But something was wrong this time, the woman's gaze suddenly broke eye contact and focused instead on the weapon. After several moments, shock clearly spread across her face and she looked back up to the eyes of the scavenger. "That's no gun," she whispered, as quiet as she could be to be heard over the sandstorm. "That's a *flare-gun*. It's just been painted over, but there was only one time I ever heard of that happening--"

She broke off, suddenly a nervousness growing in her expression and triggering the fear that flashed through the scavenger's own.

"It was... My *sister*..." Their hands began to treble at that point, giving them away as the other studied them desperately. "C.... C- Ciana? Is that *you*?"

They shook their head, taking a step back, not removing their cross wires from the hunter.

"Ciana, it's me! Scienna!" She exclaimed this louder now, with enough volume that the other hunter lifted their head, suddenly eyes sharp as they paid more attention to the conversation.

"Keep your God damned voice *down*," they hissed, the dread in the pit of their stomach fueling the aggression. "Yes, okay? It's me-- but you can't be here. *I* can't be here." Scienna stared at them, uncomprehending, but Ciana continued without giving her the chance to speak, their voice low and urgent. "He's always with you, and he's been after *me*. He won't stop. Please, you have to help me sneak away." They finally lowered the painted flare-gun, but only brought it back up immediately when noticing movement from the other hunter.

The other mercenary was approaching them, their height towering over both of the women, shooting more anxiety and fear through the trembling Ciana. "Well, well, what have we here, Scienna?" The voice was distinctively masculine, clearly a man, and a chill ran up Ciana's spine at his tone. 'O- oh. Oh no.'

Scienna, blind to her sibling's terror, Scienna shot the male a warm look. "Ciana, it's okay-- this is Jack, he's another hired hunter, and we've been--"

They cut her off, snapping, "Who the f**k is Jack?!" They shot a vicious, hateful and terrified glare at the man. "*I'd know that voice anywhere,*" they spat.

"Whatever do you mean?" The hunter, Jack, asked in a deliberately slow voice, but his eyes were shining too brightly-- like a snake's.

"It's f*****g you," Ciana whispered. "You changed your name and tailed my sister hoping to find me randomly out in the God damn *desert*?!"

Scienna whirled around, staring accusingly at the 'Jack' hunter before turning back to her sibling. "That can't be, he's been with us the whole--"

Ciana interrupted their sister for a second time, hissing, "Are you that stupid?! It's Ellyll!" The one who vowed to follow them to the ends of the Earth, never to lose them again, and to always be with them. Ciana lifted their flare-gun again, this time pointing it at the male.

"Now, now, this must be some mistake," he tried to sooth the women, holding out his arms in a slow, deliberate motion. But his eyes would not lie, and they hungrily took in the form fitting attire of Ciana, undressing them with his mind.

They gave an animalistic snarl, clicking the flare-gun in their hands. "Come at me and I'll f*****g kill you, you sick b*****d!" Scienna stared helplessly between the two, her eyes torn and horrified, but 'Jack' still wore the same expression as if he had just won a home cooked meal.

"I'd never hurt you... Ciana."

Their eyes went round with shock before narrowing to dangerous slits. "*F**k you!!*" they screamed, pulling the trigger.