A black Harley Davidson motorcycle pulled up to the saloon. A man got off the bike slowly. He wore a leather jacket, Some boots, Aviator shades and gloves. He smoked a large cigar. He entered the saloon where he saw people playing pool, Poker, Fights. He sat down at the bar then looked at the bartender. "A bottle of whiskey, Darlin'" He said with a Texan accent. She grabbed the whiskey then set in front of the man. "Gotta a name?" The bartender asked. The man took a sip from the bottle before turning to her. "Christmas." He said. She chuckled under her breath. Christmas looked at her again. She stopped. "Hey punk!" A voice called to Christmas. A younger man was looking at him angry. "You talkin to my girl?!" The teen yelled. "Was orderin me a drink. Got a problem, Kid?" The teen took out his phone and punched the numbers. He shouted into the phone. He hanged up quick. Not soon after, A pickup pulled up with a group of gang members. The entered with handguns and shotguns. The patrons of the bar panicked and retreated from the building except Christmas. He kept sipping on his whiskey. The teen grabbed Christmas's shoulder. In response, Chris grabbed the bottle and smashed it into the face of the teen. He was sent to the ground while the other guys began firing guns at him. He had enough of it. He hopped to cover then changed his arms into machine guns. He sprayed several of them down. He turned his arms in Plasma cannons. He charged a devastating blast at the Pickup they arrived in. The saloon began to burn. He jumped out of the window in the front of saloon. He rolled onto the side walk with some cuts on his face. Instead of fleeing, He went to the bar next door.