You are Gunt, hardened veteran of countless fights with plenty of scars to show. Currently you are between gigs, as they say. Sitting in the "Vibe", a bar you like, just scanning the crowd.
You sit in a corner booth, with your back against the wall (naturally) and your legs on the bench, with your left hand resting easily on the table, nursing a plastic jug of synth-beer, some of the foam still dripping from your fiery red beard.
You are wearing black cargo pants with multiple pockets, black t-shirt, kevlar vest and a black hoodie over it. Your fake-leather coat is on the bench next to you. Hidden inside the hoodie is your trusty pistol and your pants hide a knife as well. Rest of your hardware is safely locked away in your hideout.
You lazily watch the people around you, there's nothing obvious so far though few of the patrons look good enough to fool around.
That is, until someone walks up to your table! |