Only minutes later, a snout bumped the back of Viktor's leg, and a large white Samoyed emerged from under the truck, walking in front of the man and looking back at him. The dog wagged her tail. Her owner appeared shortly after, wet snow crunching under his boots as he walked around the front of the the so called "cool" truck. The saggy Stalker had a packed bag slung over one shoulder, crossbow hanging loosely from the side.<br/><br/>"So this one is the cool one?" Nikita asked, banging on the hood of the vehicle with his knuckles. The man eyed the questionable shape of the truck underneath the tarp, trying to make sense of how the shapes fit together. It was...unique, to say the least. "Very special," he commented. He looked a little longer before suddenly remembering something.<br/><br/>"Ah, I meant to give you this," he said as he dug his hand into one of the pockets of his oversized coat and pulled out a cylindrical metal object, surprisingly new looking. "I forgot I had it until I was packing my bag this morning. Picked it up during my last mission from the nomads. They always have good stuff. I don't know what it is but you could probably find a use for it."  He handed it over.