When we last left Luna and the gang, they were at the Pussycat Saloon celebrating a job well done. Luna, Michael McBride, Bexley and their fearless leader Shelby Cobra were all about to have some shots and drink the night away, with the money they made, they could buy the Pussycat Saloon, but just as they were about give themselves alcohol poisoning. A man had walked into the saloon with an RPG pointed it right at the gang and fired.

"Oh fuck."

Luna said as the man pulled the trigger. The blue haired woman could only do one thing. She focused her ki in her hand and feet. She did this for two reasons, one was to become quicker on her feet and so she could slice the warhead in half, if done right, there wouldn't be an explosion. Luna ran right at the warhead, using her superior speed, she got in front of her friends and with one quick slash of her hand. She cut the warhead right down the middle, it split into two pieces and they went into the bar behind her. They did damage to a few bottles of beer and alcohol but there was no violent explosion. Everyone in the saloon went silent. The man who had shot the RPG at the group was standing there with his mouth open and his eyes wide. He didn't know what to do. The man just stood there. Luna looked right at him, her eyes narrowed into a glare. Attack her, sure that was fine. She didn't mind, Luna could handle herself well but to try to harm her friends, that was a different story. Before the man could even think about running away, Luna rushed him, grabbed him by the throat and held him off the ground. Her eyes wide with rage, a fire burning in them. They caused the man to beg, but Luna just squeezed his throat so he was gasping to breathe.

"You limp dick mother fucker! How fucking dare you try to kill my friends and I. Wrong move asshole! I want to know who sent your ass to your death, right the fuck now or else you're going to feel pain like you've never have before. I'll know if you're lying. So speak now!"

Luna said before throwing the man to the ground. He held his throat as he tried to catch his breath, panting harshly. He looked up at her and flipped her off.

"Fuck you bitch! You won't get shit outta of me."

Shelby and Bexley both gasped, McBride busted up laughing.

"Lad, you shouldn't have said that." McBride said with a smile.

Luna grabbed the man by the arm and started to drag him to the doors of the saloon. He tried to get away but it was of no use. She had an iron grip on him and he wasn't going anyone but where she wanted him to. The gang followed behind them. It was going to be a fun night after all.


"Half cyborg, half A.I. That's what I'll be fighting on Saturday. You Wylie Sinclair. That is what you are. That being said. I know you have the skills for combat and you can hold your own but those skills were programed into you. You've never had to work for them. You've never trained a day in your life. You were built from scrap metal and skin. Yes, you can fight but to truly be a warrior. You have to work from the ground up. I've been training my whole life, every single day. I live in a world were one slip up can mean you life and I like it that way. You have to be aware of everything that's around you. I'm no different than you when it comes to stamina, strength, endurance, dexterity, agility, durability and reflexes but unlike you. I earned them. I've busted my ass to get where I am."

"I have fought someone like you before, a few times actually and I've always come out on top, clearly or else I wouldn't be here today. Maybe one day I'll show you what it means to be a warrior, a real one, like myself. I can train you to hone your skills. You have a soul don't you? You have no idea what you can do but I'll teach you in that ring on Saturday. You're going to learn when we face one another. It won't take much to beat it into you. At least I don't have to worry about killing you. I'm sure you can take it if I went all out. Unlike Peter Gilmour, with just a backhand to his face. I could cause his head to fly off his shoulders, but lucky for him. He's not facing me. Unlucky for you, for I don't have to hold back. Let me ask you something Wylie Sinclair. Does a machine like yourself ever experience fear? Guess we'll find out."