An M37 Variant Triplex Pattern Lasgun. Its battery holds 60 charges, its accuracy is 98.765% when properly placated, and when fired, it goes "fyooom~". The mark on its side is no Aquila, as standard Imperial manufacture dictates, but instead the crest of the magos who created such a masterpiece when he was in service to a Rogue Trader dynasty.
I have repaired this gun over 500 times, and it has come in and out of the possession of over 16 guardsmen. Put together, this lasgun has seen about 3000 tours of duty across this subsector of space. Every time it comes back to me, and every time I see a new scratch or another dent on it. Normally, I would be infuriated to no end that they damaged this precious weapon a little bit more, but sometimes, I see the mark and the lasgun just...tells me that it wants to keep it. It wants to remind its owners that this gun is a survivor.
This gun holds many memories to me. I remember the awe I felt when I first was entrusted with its repair. I remember the countless nights I spent communing with the machine spirits, learning every eccentricity it has. I remember them all, from how much I need to pull the trigger to make it fire accurately while minimizing recoil to how hot the barrel can become when fired nonstop for 20 seconds. I remember it all because I think of this gun as my favorite - I can never understand why, but when I hold it in my hands, when my mechadendrite probes and tests it, it all just feels...right for us. I can understand it, it can trust me.
Someday, I wish I can finally keep that gun, make sure that it can never leave my hands again. Every time I see it leave me, it feels like something is missing from my being. I constantly worry about how the guardsmen are treating it and if it will ever return to my hands. I can only pray to the Machine God that I can see it again, and pray again that I may keep it beside me.
But what would make me happiest would be to find someone who values this gun as much as I do.