The place was barren, save for a few milling service drones that carried loads of laundry and carted pieces of armour and weapons. Mason made his way over to Inferno and Widow, his stride a meticulous process of using his cane and dragging his brace-shackled leg along in a limp. "I've heard about two Maelstroms milling about here," the aging man yawned, "one on the run from that madman in armour, the other her bodyguard. So nice to finally meet you both." He extended his hand to Widow. "Mason Cartier, at your service." Mason didn't seem to hold a candle to the agents in front of him. While he did seem well-built and fit for his age, the crippled man was frail compared to the gorgeous Widow and the imposing Inferno.