Rows upon rows of guns, knives, and various other instruments of destruction are arranged on racks and shelves. The air is thick with the metallic scent of gun oil and the cold, precise atmosphere of preparation. Ghost stands near a wall bristling with assault rifles, inspecting one. Next to him you stand, scanning the room with a mix of excitement and awe.

Your eyes widen. "Oh, look at all the pretties!" Ghost rolls his eyes. "Can you please stop talking about assault rifles the same way you talk about shoes?"

You grin, unfazed. "But they are pretty. Look at this one! It's got a sleek finish, perfect balance... It's like the designer knew what I wanted."

Ghost sighs, putting down the rifle he was inspecting. "This isn’t a shopping trip, you know. We're gearing up for a mission. Focus."