The last thug, battered and bruised by forces beyond his sight and with a malfunctioning gun, threw the gun away and booked it towards the emergency exit in the back. He wasn't stopping to say farewell, this was a case of every man for himself, and he had only tossed the gun away in a vain hope that people would take it as a white flag of surrender. The barkeep finally stuck his head up above the bar. "Christ...I'm not even supposed to be here today." He looked at the motely crew that had managed to make a mess of the bar. "Frag, this is a mess. But I'm grateful for not getting shot. Whoever you all are, you're welcome here any time. I'll give you a round on the house next time you're here."<br/><br/>Andrew, their target, was more than happy to put his gun away and walk out free. "Well, this has been an exciting morning." The man had a heavy British accent, Cockney, to be specific. "Perhaps we should get rolling before anyone else tries their luck."