John stepped out of the interstellar transport that had taken him to Hisho's Market, still wearing all of his combat armor. He turned to the pilot and transferred over several credits to the man's account. "Well this is my stop. Thank you for the ride," he said before walking in the direction of The Tipsy Sewer. [i]Lovely name for a bar.[/i] Before he could enter the building though, the neon sign that rested on top of the building was soon blocked by a group of seven thugs.

"Hey, you're that Killshot guy," one of them, obviously the leader, said. He soon held up a PDA to the mercenary displaying John's picture, with his helmet on, as well as the words, "1,000,000 CREDITS / DEAD OR ALIVE!"

John rose his arms above his head and replied, "You got me. What do you want? An autograph?"

The thug sneered. "Try your head!" he shouted as he quickly grabbed for his sidearm. John was quicker though, grabbing his machete, he used the blade to sever the thug's right hand clean off. He dropped to the ground, clutching at the missing limb, while his six buddies all began to reach for their own firearms. John threw the machete at the thug grabbing for a shotgun, the blade sinking into the man's throat, before quickly grabbing for his two guns that sat holstered to his sides. He pulled the trigger on both guns, dropping the two that stood on the outside of the group. He did this again with the next two, before aiming for the final thug.

Realizing his chances of survival were slim if he tried to fight, the last thug dropped his gun and began to run. After holstering his pistols, John slowly walked towards his blade and retrieved it from the corpse that it had stabbed. He held it up to his arm and carved five tally-marks into his armor. John looked down at the last remaining thug, the leader. "You should really get that looked at. Looks like a pretty bad cut," he said before continuing towards The Tipsy Sewer.

The first thought that John had as he entered the building was how glad he was that his helmet provided him his own oxygen, a dive bar like this would smell absolutely awful. Though, he had smelled worse before. Compared to some of the stuff he'd seen in his long career as a gun for hire, this place was a paradise. He searched the bar for any familiar faces, but the only one he found was his new employer, Winston Valos. [i]They could just not very widely known, but I still hope I'm not the only professional taking this assignment. Babysitting, especially amateurs that think they can help, is one of the worst jobs to take.[/i] He gave his teammates a second look over before coming to a final decision. [i]Hmm, they seem to look experienced enough. Not to shabby at all.[/i]

John decided to finally take a seat among the small band of adventurers, deciding to sit next to the woman who brought the sleeping Sorvath. He used a nearby, unoccupied table to rest his feet on before giving a half-salute in Winston's direction. "Killshot reporting for duty, sir." The merc gave another look at the Sorvath that lay on the floor, then looked to the owner of the mighty beast. "Mind if I pet her? Or is she not very friendly with strangers?"