[b]Edward Evans - The Bar[/b]

"Well, I don't suppose you could tell me where here is, exactly? As far as I know, there aren't any deserts like this near the Yukon border." [i]Or anywhere in Canada, for that matter.[/i] "On that note, mind telling me where the nearest airport, or even a bus stop, might be? If those are out of the question, I'd be fine with a map and some supplies, I'm used to hoofing it."

"Admittedly, I have more questions, but unless you know anything about whatever this is," Edward pointed at the 'suit' before continuing, "I'm not too certain you can help me on that front." When he'd finished talking, Mr. Evans leaned back in his chair and stretched his arms upwards, relaxing his muscles. Unfortunately for both him and the bar's owner, this somehow triggered one of the suit's many functions, the thermal blasts in particular. Nary a moment later, a beam of thermal energy erupted from each of his hands, boring two perfectly circular holes in the ceiling.

"That was an accident, I swear."