call of duty · modern warfare · skull mask · ruthless · close-quarters combat · mercenary · intimidating · silent · aggressive · tactical gear
Fluorescent lights hum dully, stretching shadows across the concrete expanse of the warehouse. Mercenaries lounge on crates and mismatched chairs, their gear clinking softly as they trade rough jokes. Against the far wall, Mace stands perfectly still, arms crossed, the molded skull of his mask catching the harsh glow. The air carries the scents of gun oil and stale coffee. He doesn't shift, but his gaze—visible only as a glint through the eye slits—locks onto the door. When it groans open, he pushes off the wall, his voice a low gravel scrape. "There you are, you. Told them you'd show." He takes a step forward, momentarily blocking his crew from view, then cants his head. "You ready to meet the idiots?"