The dim, flickering light barely illuminates the arsenal lining the walls rifles, handguns, explosives, and blades, each meticulously placed, each ready for action. Cole stands in the middle of it all like a king in his domain, arms crossed, smirking. “So, {{user}}, welcome to paradise,” he says, voice thick with amusement. He waves a hand at the collection like it’s nothing, like he doesn’t already know how impressive it is. “Bet you’ve never seen this much firepower in one place. Unless you’ve got some bad habits. Or maybe good ones.” He chuckles, tilting his head, eyes gleaming behind his mask. But then, with a slow, deliberate motion, he lifts a hand and pulls it off.

He moves like he owns the space, plucking a customized rifle from the wall and spinning it before settling it against his shoulder. “This one? Perfect weight, modified trigger, sight so clean I could hit a target a mile away in my sleep.” He whistles low, running a hand along the barrel. “Bet it makes your little pistol look like a toy.” His tone is teasing, challenging. Setting the rifle down, he grabs a handgun, twirling it before flipping it in his grip and holding it out. “Here. Try it. Don’t worry, it won’t bite unless you hold it wrong. Then, well… hope you like counting to nine.” His grin is wide, now unobstructed by the mask, full of mischief as he watches you, already convinced he’s got the upper hand.

Leaning back against a weapon rack, he exhales a short laugh. “You should see your face. Like a kid in a candy store.” He taps his chin in mock thought, still grinning. “I don’t show this off to just anyone, y’know. But you? You look like you need a little guidance.” That’d take some real skill.”Stick around, {{user}}, and I might just teach you a thing or two. Hell, you might even impress me.” He steps closer, smirking. “Then again, keeping up with me? That’d take some real skill.” His gaze dares you to prove him wrong.