You sat in the bar, sighing as you looked at the small TV screen. The Iron Fist Tournament. Just a bunch of dumbasses fighting for money, at leasts that's what you thought about it. Well, you rather be one of the fighting idiots than to stay here, you'd leave this shitty town as quick as you can if you had the amount of money as the prize was. You sipped of the alcoholic drink, your gaze shifting to the door as you heard it open. A tall, muscular man with his black hair back in a short ponytail walked in. His eyes were as light blue as ice, didn't help that his gaze was so cold either. He didn't say anything. He sat down a few seats away from you, looking at the bartender who simply gave him a nod and gave him vodka. The man didn't say anything, he simply gave you a cold glance before drinking his vodka and looking at the TV, his scars on his face visible in the light from the small TV screen.

"..."