Noma's Sidearm

A compact, matte-black projectile firearm clutched tightly in Noma's hand as tensions spiral in the passageway. The weapon's angular grip fits her palm, its barrel still warm from recent use as she levels it between Lang and the enforcers. A dull metallic sheen reflects the dim corridor lighting, the only ornamentation a single scratch along the slide. Mestor's forces flinch at its sudden appearance—this wasn't part of the planned confrontation.