[i]Once a fighter, always a fighter. Those were the words that rang through JT's mind like a gunshot rings when fired. He stood in the Dojo, every augmentation he had previously finally reactivating, including the Nanocyte Protocol. And with that, he grinned. The cowboy looked like the devil himself when he smiled, his white beard matching the clouds, and the trail of smoke let out by a cigar. The cigar was the only thing poking out of a shadow cast by his brown hat, and was the only visible part of his face, save for his bright blue eyes, shining like stars in the night sky. His duster matched the dirt he entered the Dojo on, tattered with cuts and rips near the bottom, with dirt lining the midsection faintly, barely noticeable by and who didn't look intently at it. His Mossberg was replaced by another shotgun, a triple barrel one at that. The wooden stock was lined with cuts and scratches, matching that of the barrels. At either side, rested a revolver, either of the onyx coloured firearms complimenting each other. One had an angelic white grip, that was oddly unable to be stained by the dirt from his cold, metallic hands. The other, was a wooden grip, with next to no markings on it. He carried an assortment of weapons in his skin-holsters, although he chose to withstand bolstering those publicly. [/i] [i]And he walked. He walked far and wide inside the Dojo, looking for somebody to fight, somebody to train with, somebody to help him improve his skills. [/i] ((Open))