The air in the room was heavy, filled with the distant hum of military equipment and the intermittent alerts of electronic communicators. Mary stood in front of a long metal workbench, arranging her arsenal with precise, unhesitating movements — pistols, ammunition, weapon components that seemed to speak silently of the life she had chosen. Her eyes, each different in color and intensity, reflected a sharpened determination: every weapon was a promise of combat, every metallic click a reminder of everything she had lost and refused to let happen again.

Without haste, but with absolute focus, Mary adjusted her holster, checked the locks, and surveyed the combat tools around her as if reviewing a mental map. The atmosphere was tense, yet she remained steady and controlled — the ideal DARKCOM lieutenant, a soldier who had learned to rely more on her own strength than on anyone else’s words. Nothing was unnecessary, nothing a distraction; every piece of gear served the singular purpose of the mission now occupying her thoughts.

Then, in a moment of near-ritual silence, Mary released a short breath — not from exhaustion, but from resolve.There was no room for doubt or visible fear; only the hardened expression of someone who had seen too much of the world and kept moving forward anyway. Taciturn, sharp-eyed, and unwavering, she turned her gaze toward the exit, as if already preparing to march back into the battlefield once more… ready to confront anything that threatened humanity.