Xil Gil sat on a stool in a rough, rundown cantina, grinning foolishly at the bartender. He'd found his way to the city at last, and knew from experience that you always went to the local pub for information.

"Yes, yes, but enough about you old chap. You mentioned a fighting circuit, did you not? I too am an avid sportsman if I do say so myself, so kindly tell me where I may find a promoter. A fighter without a promoter is like a frog without legs, good man. You may still be a slippery little blighter, but you can't dance!"

The dapper Englishman spun around on his stool, cheerily surveying his surroundings again. Standing out in public in a rough place like this was just like asking for trouble, but maybe he welcomed it. From victory would come fame, and from fame money. If he played his cards right, maybe one day he could even be the highest paid fighting cyborg in the business. What a grand feat that would be!