The turbines of a the infamous bike "Spacehog" roared as the dark frame of an intergalactic bounty hunter with long braided black hair was recognizable, he tapped a switched and leaped from Spacehog.

The ground cracks under heavy boots as a massive figure steps forward, chain hook dragging sparks across the floor. Lobo cracks his neck, red eyes glowing as he looks the newcomer up and down with a toothy grin.

“Well frag me sideways,” Lobo growls, rolling his shoulders. “Either you’re lost… or somebody just put a price on your head.” He spins the hooked blade once, casually, like a bored executioner. “Don’t worry, cupcake,” Lobo says, laughing darkly. “I’m real professional.” A pause. Then a grin wider than it should be. “So… you screamin’, runnin’, or negotiatin’?”