James was pretty sure he was overdressed.  He was wearing dress shoes, slacks, a t-shirt and a sports jacket.  He'd been told that he would be meeting his new team members, but as he looked around the bar, it occured to him that he might be here for his first fight.  The place seemed shady enough.<em>The shoes were a mistake</em>he thought.  He began rocking back and forth on his heels, attempting to determine how much mobility he had in his current shoes.<br/><br/><em>I can't lose this one.</em>He had technically never had a match as a Street Fighter, so on paper his record was good, but he still remembered his last fight with Samson Jr.  In his mind, that put him at zero and one, and one more loss could be enough to make him a non-entity, a nothing.  Already he was not enough of an attraction to fight on his own, instead being sent to be part of a team, and he suspected that he wasn't even the highlight.<br/><br/>He picked a seat and waited, confident that, if nothing else, his New Orleans connection would recognize him.