"Don't need one." He replied. Ignoring the first question as he sat down and then proceeded to stare at the wall. That is, before the lounge doors opened again and a group of pilots walked in, spotted him and while ignoring you, walked up to the table and practically cornered him. "So..." One of them asked. "How'd you really get that nickname of yours? Did you kill your entire squadron yourself? And your fleet was destroyed because they were overwhelmed without them to pull them out of the fire?" they asked. This one was male, in fact, the entire squadron of nine was male except for one. And the questions caused you to realize that they meant trouble.<br/><br/>Hunter ignored them and sipped his drink as he sat there. "Hey! I asked you a question!" the pilot shouted at him, only to be ignored once again. Then the pilot knocked the bottle out of Hunter's hand as he lifted it up to take a sip. Hunter just let it fly and just stared at his now empty hand. Then the pilot grabbed Hunter's jacket and pulled him over the table to look directly into his eyes. "How many of those people's deaths were your fault?" the pilot growled in Hunter's face with a sneer. Hunter's gaze locked onto the pilot's eyes and the pilot suddenly went rigid with fear before Hunter's head went back and then came smashing forward.<br/><br/>The pilot let go of Hunter and stumbled back as Hunter vaulted over the table and hit the pilot with a punishing roundhouse that hit him so hard it knocked him into three of his comrades, sending them all tumbling to the floor as two of the other pilots took swings at him, of which he sidestepped the first and ducked under the second before ramming his shoulder into the second pilot while kicking out at the first. HE then swept the pilot he rammed off their feet and then threw them into the ground as the rest of the group advanced. Of the four he'd knocked over, only two were now getting up. The first having several broken ribs and the other being knocked out cold when they hit their head against the bar counter. Three, including the woman, had retreated entirely, being conflicted on whether they should help their squadron, of which had started the fight, and the one who had merely been responding to a threatening display.<br/><br/>The group stood surrounding Hunter, who stood in the middle of them, completely relaxed, but also alert. When one of the pilots made his move by charging forward and lashing out with a wild right haymaker that Hunter ducked under and drove his right hand into the man's stomach before dropping down and sweeping him onto the ground. The man lay clutching his stomach as Hunter's next opponent made their move with a lunge to try and tackle Hunter to the ground, only to have Hunter sidestep and then whip a leg up and then back down onto their back, knocking them onto the ground before Hunter grabbed them and threw them into their comrades. Hunter then made his move by flicking his wrists, which unsheathed a pair of hidden blades. Everyone that was still standing's eyes went wide, and those that were still trying to fight Hunter stepped back and then held up their hands. Hunter stood there, a fire in his eyes and a frustrated grimace that made several of the pilots pale. "As for your comrades question, I did not kill anyone in that fleet, and I fought our attackers as long as my fighter was able. And as for you all, if you continue to try and harm my person and i will cut you down like the dumbasses you are. I have the capability and have been granted for situations with these exact circumstances besides location, to use excessive force if necessary." The rest of the pilots paled and them stumbled about trying to get their fallen comrades up and to the infirmary.<br/><br/>The entire altercation only took eight minutes, and Hunter just walked over to the bar, found another cider, and then sat down again. By most standards, the way Hunter handled those pilots should have been extremely difficult because of his build.