Cowboy, Ninja, Viking.

The man walked into the dingy room, his purposeful gait ringing in the bar.

His wide, manic eyes scanned every corner from underneath his stetson.

Nine bald, tattooed, snarling Yakuza thugs. They huddled around tiny tables, groping barmaids, gulping bad beer and inhaling worse weed.

A twisted smile formed on the man's thin lips, a finger traced the hilt of the katana on his hip.

"Tell you what mate, you kill more of these shits than me and I'll give you my whole bottle of Inderal."

"You are on."

"Heh."

The man, tall and thin, glared at the scum in the room. The thugs noticed his presence and lifted their heads from their cards, flexing muscles, revealing side-arms and blades.

"Let the game begin. You can just hand me the bottles now."

The man's arm blurred and two thugs slumped dead in their chairs, throwing stars perforating their bodies.

"Psssh, you are getting slow there mate! Watch this."

The Yakuza, aware of being under attack, rushed the stranger.

The man's left hand whipped a six-shooter from his side and unloaded into the charging attackers. Four more hit the dirty ground, brains and guts spilling out of bullet holes.

"Dammit."

"Guess another sleepless night for you mate!"

"It is not over yet, gaijin. These two are mine."

"ENOUGH! I WANT BLOOD!"

The man hefted the battle axe strapped to his back with both hands and decapitated a thug with a single blow.

"HAHAAAHAA! NOW THIS IS FUN!"

The surviving baddie pissed himself in fear as the man approached.

"See you in helheim, cocksucker."

The axe fell once, twice, thrice and the thug littered the floor with his limbs, head and spleen.

"Dammit you barbarian shit! This was between me and pyjama boy!"

"I need Inderal to fucking sleep."

"Ain't my fault you both are fucking pussies."

The man closed his eyes and rubbed his fingers into his temples, brow deeply creased.

"Shut the fuck up all of you."