[i]Wolfe stood silently for a moment, releasing the hammer gently so that the weapon would not fire. He remained there for a moment, before turning into his door, and heading inside, leaving it open. His form disappeared up the stairs and off into the darkness. Upon heading upstairs, he dressed himself quickly, a product of the military lifestyle, and climbed into his armor, the suit locking around him, systems coming online. Checking his gear, he headed back downstairs, meeting the two at the door, having only been gone ten minutes. Compared to the fairly disheveled man that stood before them earlier, Jackson now looked extremely imposing. The exosuit was painted matte black, with scratches and scrapes all across it, along with a few bullet ricochet marks. On his left leg, a large Bowie knife sat in its sheath. At his waist, a leather gunbelt, and at each of his hips, a .44 magnum, Smith and Wesson Model 629 Stealth Hunters. Magnum shells lined the gunbelt as well. Across his chest, a bandolier, with numerous tactical pouches used to store various items for any situation. His cloak was back, exposing both his shoulders and his helmet. On his left pauldron, a kukri was situated in its sheath, and on his right, five .50BMG rounds sat in a sidesaddle. The tip of his blade's hilt could be seen over his right shoulder, the stock of his Barrett M107A1 over his right. However, what stood out the most was the mask he wore. It fully covered his face and head, and the lenses of the eyes glowed an eerie blue. Like the armor, it was painted entirely black, save for three jagged white slashes across the right side, painted bright white. He said nothing, looking to the two them silently, his cloak gently moving in the wind. [/i]