<strong>Name:</strong>Jack Hearth<br/><strong>Location: </strong>Parking Lot of the School<br/><strong>Wearing:</strong>Fully suited up in bike armor and accoutrements<br/><strong>Tagged: </strong>Baseball Team, Open<br/><br/>With a deliberate slowness, he opened his left hand, and showed off the nearly bar like piece of metal he held. He release the catch on it, and flicked it forward, expertly causing the blade to slide out, and lock into a fixed, ready to use position. He made it a point to wave the knife around, rather nonchalantly; but at no point did his grip slip. He's 'practiced' with the knife quite a bit, and knows exactly what he's doing with it.<br/><br/><strong>"And since when do I listen to other people when they try to tell me what is and isn't my concern?"</strong>he asked, admonishingly, of the one student who had spoken to him.<strong>"You think just because the world's gone a little crazy, you can throw your weight around, and get what you want? Think again. With my armor, I can walk away from a crash at seventy miles an hour, with nothing but a few rips and tears in the leather. Your bats aren't going to do jack shit against shock absorbing hard plastic and metal elements. Meanwhile, my friend, Mister Knifey, will rip open your throats <span class="bbc_u">very</span> easily. I suggest you all very <span class="bbc_u">carefully</span> consider your actions." </strong><br/><br/>And hey, even if he should wind up disarmed for whatever reason, they'd do well to note the knuckle guards on his gloves. They're solid metal. A punch with a glove on like that would be like getting kissed by a set of brass knuckles.<br/><br/>The thing that should really rattle their cages, though, is just how stoic he is. His confidence.  It showed through in his stance, and his unfaltering, threateningly cold words. Of course he might be bluffing; he wouldn't be much better than them if he just started stabbing people, right? But, if they take the first swing, then fuck it, the rules go out the window.