Tears
Alex Mason wasn't normally what you'd consider an emotional man. At seven, he'd watched his dog die slowly and painfully throughout the night. He'd watched his late grandmother die the same year, he'd watched friends die in conflicts all over the globe, their deaths labeled: Training Accidents. These events had brought upon tears, but nothing like what he was currently observing.
Brutality in it's rawest form, the poor innocent being lying on a dirty table in a dimly lit room, it's captor standing over it waving a razor sharp saw. Mason could almost hear the pain in the air as the saw started again, he had to look away.
Woods turned back from the MP5 that he was brutalizing to see Mason wiping away what he could only assume was a tear. "Are you crying?" he asked, his saw momentarily ceasing.
"No…their was something in my eye." replied Mason, looking over Woods at the innocent submachine gun, it's stock barely still attached.
"Good, because these H&K prototypes aren't going to turn compact on their own." said Woods, turning back to the MP5.
Mason silently wiped away another tear, Heckler & Koch had loaned them a pair of prototype MP5's. And now Woods had taken and sliced the barrel down even shorter then before and was now cutting his way through the plastic stock of the pride of Germany. Elsewhere on the table sat a crude wooden handgrip which would replace the original plastic one that came on the factory model, beside that sat the remains of two waffle-magazines that were welded together to improve capacity, and alongside that was a simple mount for a red dot sight. All these parts would come together to serve the purposes of SOG in it's various endeavors across the globe. But for some reason, Mason felt that H&K wouldn't be giving them anymore prototype weaponry after the conditions in which they were to be returned, (if they were even returned at all). And that was something worth shedding tears over.