[i]Appearing from thin air in the middle of the stairs leading up to the Dojo and its mighty gates, was a very curious-yet-normal pair for Dojo standards, mostly because of who they were. A man and a dog, quite simple but also not. The humanoid of the two stood at about six feet and six inches with ease, muscular, masculine body shrouded in a set of pitch black, powered armour, the sleek plating that covered the frame beneath accentuated and rimmed with milky white lines. Hiding the shoulder plates and half of the torso was a dark brown hide, draped over him like a poncho of sorts, wrapped around his shoulders, too big and dense to belong to any normal animal. Coating the armoured plating on his thighs were the blue-ish scales of some dragon-like beast, undoubtedly, while on his right knee pad, he had a big bone - probability a kneecap - nailed to the plating beneath. Hiding his face from view was a Barbuta-type helmet, as if taken straight from the old ages on Terra in which knights clad in armour still clashed. It fit the rest of his armour, the visor filled with one-way, bulletproof glass, coloured a rich gold, contrasting heavily with the black of his suit. Mounted to the sides of the helmet were massive, draconian horns, each a good six inches in length at the very least, curving out a good few inches, then down and forwards, coloured a dark, murky black, probably ripped straight from some mighty beast and savagely mounted to the metalwork. It was none other than Jason fuсkin' Fandango, but of course, and holy shit was he dressed like an edgelord now. At the Russian's left side was a big, utterly monstrous canine, three-and-a-half feet tall at the shoulders, at the very least, much bigger than any wolf or dog. Its thick, impossibly dense fur shared its colour with a Siberian wolf, a light grey with white and black spots, though there was no way this beast was a mere grey wolf. Its body rippled with rock-hard muscles, its strength undoubtedly an absolutely terrifying thing, contrasting its surprisingly kind eyes, an ocean blue in colour, gleaming in the sunlight that fell down onto the path, drowning out the sheen of its metal-plated, razor-sharp teeth. Jason was armed, of course, since he was nothing if not a fetishist for weapons of all kinds and sizes -- guns especially. Mounted at his right hip, hugged tight by a dirt brown, leather holster, was a pistol the size of a rifle, its barrel reaching down to the man's knee, while its grip seemed like a bit more than a handful -- for a normal person. It was mostly hidden from sight, only the grip visible, and what a beautiful grip it was: neatly shaped to fit Jason's hand perfectly, finished with a coat of maple wood to last against weather and abuse. Held at his lower back by two simple clips was a metallic cylinder, about a foot in length with a good inch-and-a-half in thickness, slight grooves grafted into the non-reflective material for a comfier grip. The bottom thickened then thinned into a raindrop-shaped pommel, its pointy end facing outwards. And finally, last but not least, Jason had himself a rifle on his back, its butt protruding from behind his right shoulder. It was held in place by seemingly nothing, its colour a gunmetal grey, frame shaped like that of an FN FAL, if a tad or two bigger than would be normal. It was equipped with a foregrip that matched the shade of the rest of the gun, about six inches in length and mounted beneath the barrel. The actual grip was wrapped in rust brown leather, the strips snugly intertwined with each other.[/i] "MJ," [i]The Russian groaned when he arrived at the gate, his voice sounding rough and gravelly as always, though his accent was gone entirely, replaced instead by what one might consider normal,[/i] "Remind me of why I returned to this shithole?" [i]MJ just barked, nuzzling Jason's side with his snout, bringing a smile to his lips, no matter how hidden it was.[/i] [spoiler]Yoooo, it's this guy again. Come and say hello or something. Or don't. Idk.[/spoiler]