[i]The first person at the booth was a strange figure to many. With his face half charred and scarred into oblivion, his ugly mug on the leftmost half shows a menacing look to the figure, while the right side portrays his innocence fairly well with only a single, angelic white beard that ran along his face, somehow growing atop the burnt face. Rather, his beard grew at one point, which it seemed to stop after some moment, and the facial hair had barely noticeable burn marks lining the right half of his beard near the top, where it connected with his ugly face. The duster that remains draped over his body was tattered and torn, showing years of usage and fights survived while bearing that outfit. The dirt at the very deepest depths of his outfit carried a darker yet less noticeable brown due to the minuscule amount of dirt that was there, but the outfit quickly grew to be a lighter shade of brown as it went higher and higher, the long jacket showing a strange patch on the right shoulder, that reads [b]Nation Without a Home[/b], above another that reads [b]Outlaw Squad, OSIRis[/b], ending the chain with one that reads [b]Fireteam November[/b]. Across his back rests a single shotgun, one with three barrels and no stock, the words [b]TRIPLE TAP[/b] etched into the top barrel, engraved with an onyx colour. At his sides lay a pair of twin revolvers, either looking to have a slightly longer barrel than the average revolver, although from the way the man carried himself it was clear that he could still draw the weapons faster than half the patrons in the bar. [/i] [i]The second to sit in the booth was far more strange than the first, this being her first time entering the building. Her long, curled red locks flowed over her right shoulder, draping down to touch the side of her breast. Her fiery hair seemingly heated the air around her immensely and filled the bar with pure heat, all the while her icy blue eyes cooled it back down swiftly. Her outfit consisted of a crimson red shirt, the laces that acted as straps running over either shoulder in a nice, dark black colour. The shirt fitted tightly around her body, much like the pair of blue jeans that fitted on her flawlessly, if not taking the image that it formed around her body. Her black boots went overtop the clothing that she bore, and looked to be standard combat boots. Finally, she let a single black leather jacket rest overtop her hourglass figured body, remaining unzipped. She too had the words [b]Nation Without a Home[/b] on her jacket, although unlike how the cowboy carried it on the right side, she carried hers on the left. Her firearm load-out consisted of your standard military gear: An M4A1 with a red dot sight fitted to it, finished only by a fore grip that matched the sleek, unpainted gun. Her sidearm that lays on the left half of her hip was simply an M9, standard police-issue, that had been bought widespread by the NWH Private Forces that she had commanded as a general for the cowboy that accompanied her, back at her home. [/i] [i]The last figure looked to be the most out-of-place one within the confines of the bar, his body encompassed by a pair on onyx black military cargo pants, with matching boots, and a black shirt of the same grade. His jet black hair matched the gloves he wore over either hand perfectly, and the way he moved inside the bar conveyed a sense of discomfort in his figure. He seemed to be taller than the cowboy by four inches, as the man already stood at six-foot-two, and his emerald green eyes looked far different than what the other two had for themselves. Unlike them, he had no idea what he was doing, and so he followed merrily, his rifle, Lightning, draped across his back while Law and Order, his twin pistols, rest at his sides. [/i] [i]The first in the trio, the cowboy, glared at Ronin. He seemed to have some sort of memory of the man, although from the looks of it, he could not discern whether it was good or bad that he was here. He quickly stood from the bar, before slowly walking over to the figure. [/i]"Mister May." [i]The man coldly said, his voice carrying a metallic ring to it. [/i]

"JT, it's been a while." [i] The man says under his mask, the tone metallic and hard, like razors on ice. He leans easily back in the booth he was in, eyeing the man in front of him.[/i]

[i]He sat across from him, carrying an uneasy posture about him. [/i]"I just have one question for you: How the hell did you get on this ship?" [i]He asked. His once friendly demeanor was replaced entirely by that of a cold hearted mercenary, the only emotion conveyed in his voice being that of respect [/i]

[i] He shrugs.[/i] "The same way you did; oh wait, we can't remember. Amnesia is fun, is it not?" [i] Lance says, rolling his eyes under the mask. JT notices that the black, twisted, swirling demonic mask with horns is different from the old one Lance used to have.[/i]

"Well some people here seem to have come here intentionally, like some of those damned creatures from the Summoner's speech." [i]He calmly replied. He took note of the figure's mask as he spoke, his left eye analyzing it as he stared. And with that, the other two from the table walked over. Diana gave Lance a questionable look, but returned to her regular gaze as she sat beside JT, while the new guy to his team sat to the right of him. [/i]

"Ah, yes. There just like the ones from Terra, that I remember. Hello Diana, and who's the new guy?" [i] Lance says nodding at him.[/i]

"Hutch Ryder." [i]The new guy states, trying to collect himself as more a respectable figure. From how he looked and the way he presented himself, he looked to be just another stolen civilian from onboard. But something about him... It showed the guy had potential. [/i] [spoiler]By the way, you'll be dealing with Hutch mostly, as he's the main focus in PoE for me. [/spoiler]

[spoiler]Ronin's run in with Armageddon crosses your mind[/spoiler]

"Ronin." [i] Lance says to Hutch. JT and Diana were used to Lance's presence, but to Hutch, it was new. His form practically emanated power and authority, like his body was merely a vessel for unrestricted power.[/i]

[i]Despite this, Hutch had an unwavering courage about him, as if he thought Ronin was a figure that he had seen not much in. Although the man showed a great respect, and kept his mouth relatively shut. Diana simply glared at Lance, the image of a broken woman crossing her face, as if she was fragmented. And amidst this, JT kept his cold gaze to mister May. [/i]"Well Ronin, I'd seen your interaction with Armageddon moments ago."

"Is that his name? The nicknames of the bad guys get worse and worse it seems."

"You're telling me. Anyways, you realize that guy is a powerful shapeshifter, yes? He may have just stolen your identity." [i]JT calmly brings up. The databases of the Imperium records he had accessed showed exactly who the man was. [/i]

"Well now he's got a body that is far better looking then his original." [i] Lance says with a smirk.[/i]

"That man is seventeen feet tall, I highly doubt your body can be remotely as good." [i]He responds, his serious tone carrying over. [/i]

[i] Lance shrugs.[/i] "Good for him."

"Look, all I'm saying is if you need anything, come to me. We may be able to work a deal out."

"And what exactly could we work out that would benefit me JT?" [i] Lance says, his mask retracting back to show his face. Those icy, cold blue eyes look like they'd seen much more than his younger face showed. A lock of his medium length brown hair fell over his face, yet he made no move to fix it. His gaze shifts from Diana, to Hutch, and back to JT.[/i] http://m.imgur.com/NHsLIWJ.jpg

"I know you aren't stupid, Lance. You could barely hold your own against a Tin Man, now imagine what a Space Marine could do to you. This guy can easily take one down. Now, you can't fight this son of a bitch on your own, although you can have me, Diana and hutch at your side. There ain't no rest for the wicked, and Armageddon doesn't ever rest up for anything. Sadly, money don't grow on trees. Our services come with a fee."

"That fight against a Tin Man was 16 years ago. I promise you JT, that much time does a lot to a man." [i] Lance's blue eyes seemingly glow with power.[/i] "And sure, I'll bite, why not. How much?"

"Ten thousand, seeing as I can't get the Gladius on this ship, and have no NWH support, save for Diana here."

"Do you want that in an intergalactic bank account or cash?" [i] Lance says with a smirk. JT had no idea how much money was at Lance's disposal, but the number he threw out didn't even make Lance flinch.[/i]

"Cash. And just so you know, the price is normally much, much higher. Although I figured that I still owed you, so that would pay it off."

[i] Lance reaches one hand out over the table, but it vanishes up to the elbow. When he pulls back, he seemingly pulls a black briefcase out of the air itself and sets it in front of JT, popping the lid on it and showing stacks of hundred dollar bills.[/i] "20,000; for old times sake."

"Excellent, thank you mister May. Now chances are you'll find Hutch if you try to contact us, so he'll be your main informant. Do we have a deal?" [i]JT asked before the trio stood, and he extended an arm to Ronin. [/i]