Makes sense. Most of its blood is staining the walls and floor. It tries to charge at you but before it can close the gap, a small red sigil circle manifests right in front of you. It looks straight out of some occult textbook.

A bullet zips right out of it and into the beast's leg. It doesn't do any serious damage but it's enough to knock the beast flat on its ass.

It tries to crawl back onto its feet but its limbs refuse to listen to it. It squirms for a few seconds as the last drops of blood ooze out of its throat. It squeaks out a desperate, wet gurgle before going limp and lifeless.

You wipe at the blood leaking out of your nose. You feel like garbage but...you killed it.

You cautiously yank your knife out of the beast's neck. A little more blood dribbles out of the wound but there's no signs of life left in it.
Holy shit.

You snap your gaze over to Colt.
His gun is raised where the beast once was. A half blue and white sigil circle flickers around the barrel of his gun. Red, white and blue. The American colors.

The sigil fizzles out as he lowers his gun. A shit-eating grin spreads across the muscular man's face. "Well, I'll be damned, kid. Didn't think you had it in you."
"What the FUCK was that?" You point at the now dead creature with your knife.

"Fuck if I know, kid. Too many anomalies locked up in here to keep track of. I ain't got enough fucks to spare for every single one." He yanks the USA flag off his shoulder and promptly wraps it around the gash across his stomach. It seems to staunch the worst of the bleeding for now. "Hoo. Thanks."

"Yeah. Yeah." Your nose is bleeding like a geyser right now. You'll have to patch that up later—and the gash on your arm—at a later time. "Felt like I had to."
"Shit. Guess you got balls after all."

"Hey. Wherever you're going, I'm following ya."
"Huh?"
"Yeah. Most of the fags here woulda went 'MOMMY MOMMY PLEASE HELP ME THE MONSTER IS SOOOO SCARY'! Pft, pussy shit, yeah? You? You had the BALLS to do something."

"I guess." You stammer out. The adrenaline in your system is already starting to fade. Your body feels like one raw nerve from the fall you just ate. "Wait, uh, you sure you-"

Colt interrupts you before you can say anything else. "This ain't a discussion."
>COLT forces his way into your party.

COLT WESSON
PHYSICAL HEALTH: VERY INJURED
MENTAL HEALTH: CONTENT

TRAITS
-PATROIC FERVOR (+5 to combat attack rolls and speech checks. Often gets TOO excited.)
-MEATHEAD (-5 penalty to research skill checks while in the party.)

INVENTORY
-APPEAL TO HEAVEN (ARTIFACT. An old bolt action rifle. Bullets fired by it teleport right next to the nearest hostile target. Can never miss.)
-STARS AND STRIPES (ARTIFACT. A ash-stained USA flag. Unknown properties.)
-LOTS OF RIFLE AMMO (To feed his gun.)

You're not going to argue with him. You'll decide if it's worth hiring him for real this shift later. You can only hope he spreads the good word about what you did.