After the monstrous biker left the unhappy couple he went into the bathroom and emptied his full bladder. Though he was tired, he really didn't want to go back to the ratty motel just to sleep. But it was already late, there was obviously no fun to be had in this town tonight, and he planned on going down to the docks to look for a couple more days work after picking up his pay. So he didn't stop at the bar like he wanted to. Instead he walked through the crowd and stepped through the door. But after he got on the large ultra classic with its ape hangers and touring pack he saw or heard something off to his side that grabbed his attention. It was that pretty redhead he'd been talking to getting slapped around by her husband and a couple of his buddies. He hadn't even gotten the bike started, and he felt party to blame for her abuse. Had he not pushed the issue and convinced her to talk with him then her husband and his buddies would probably be enjoying more drinks. No, that was wrong. He knew that men like her husband didn't need an excuse to abuse their women. No they found or made up excuses. He knew that well.<br/><br/>So the large tattooed man kicked his leg over his bike and stood, then hurriedly rummaged through the touring pack. Moments later he turned and walked toward them with a purpose. The heavy eighteen inch Cresent wrench held in his hand at the hip. A slow rolling fire of pure unadulterated rage burned in his dark brown eyes. He made no announcement, no warning. No threat came from his lips that were turned in a snarl. Teeth bared as if he were a primal predator about to take down its prey for an easy meal. When he was but a step away from the man who held her right side he swung the heavy tool in his hand with all two hundred and eighty pounds of his bulk. The broad head of the wrench connected with the man's upper arm and created the sickening sound of bone snapping. Before her husband's friend even had a chance to scream in pain Eric's free hand grabbed her husband by the hair and jerked him backward and away from Helen. Another step and the heavy wrench came upward and caught his other friend with a powerful blow right between the legs.<br/><br/>Both men fell to the ground in excruciating pain, clearly out of the fight an no threat to anyone. There was no ceremony,  no plan of attack. Eric was not a trained fighter. Every thing he learned was though blood and pain. This was simple, exquisite, unbridled testosterone driven rage, blunt force trauma in its most pure form. While he held her husband by the hair he dropped the wrench to the ground and continued to drag him backward by the hair. Causing him to stumble over his own feet. It was then that Eric finally spoke. In a deep booming angry voice he bellowed. "Like beating women do ya bitch? Well fuck you." A meaty hand came crashing in from the side and connected with his ribs before Eric used the hand that held her husband by the hair brought his head forward. At more than six and a half feet in height the enraged biker brought his own head down and rammed the top of his forehead into Rick's nose and crushed it. Instantly while Eric released Rick's hair blood began to pour from his mangled nose. "Never in my life have I seen more of a pussy." He hollered while the biker brought his open palm across Rick's face and bitch slapped him hard enough to cause his jaw to pinch that little nerve which told the brain, ok enough enough time to go to sleep. Then with her husband out cold on the ground the biker turned back to the battered woman, the slow burning fire turned inferno in his eyes still blazing as he walked towards her. Not angry at her, well no more so than anger at her for sticking with the abusive man. But by the time he came up before her the rage ebbed and started to smolder out.<br/><br/>He never even started to breathe hard. The fight was over in seconds. Hardly more effort than it would have taken to squash a roach. His lips no longer turned into a snarl, but rather a frown as he looked at her there against the car. When he spoke his voice had cooled some, but there was still a hint of anger there as he said. "You probably aught to not be around him when he wakes up. You got someplace you can stay?" He wasn't about to try and convince her to leave him for good. He knew how a battered woman often tended to believe her man could change and turn back into the guy they though they married. So instead he offered her his hand and continued. "If ya don't ya can stay at my motel room till ya figure out what ya want to do."<br/><br/>(Ooc his bike)<br/>m<a class="postlink" href="http://imganuncios.mitula.net/2012_harley_davidson_ultra_classic_23000_clinton_township_7870081437597757428.jpg">http://imganuncios.mitula.net/2012_harl ... 757428.jpg</a>m