[i]JT was standing in the Dojo courtyard that day. He was seemingly creating... Something, which could be easily figured out by the table in front of him. The long, silver table had plates of steel, it had wires, it had quite a few things, all but a screwdriver which the Marshal held. He didn't bear his usual duster, rather he bore a grey undershirt which pressed against his body, faintly outlining his muscular torso. His right arm was still the same silver shade as always, and the left arm continued to beat the insignia of the Cobalt Phoenix, a gift from the Martyr himself. He looked down at the table from beneath the shade of his brown cowboy hat and smiled. In the dead centre of the table, an arm lays. Not an organic and bloodied arm, mind you, but rather a gunmetal grey arm. He was assembling something, which truly was strange for the cowboy to do. He usually visited a CyberMerc for this kind of thing. [/i] ((Open))