<strong>Name</strong>: Jack Harth<br/><strong>Time</strong>:  About a year ago<br/><strong>Tagged</strong>: Random NPC, Elena<br/><br/>As time went on, he was pretty certain that Elena had marked him for who he was, but he was not entirely sure. But, he didn't seem to budge from his quiet little spot, nor did he do much interacting with anybody else.<br/><br/>By the time she was getting up and going, he had already settled his tab with the bar tender, and he casually stood up, and zipped up his jacket. He had been wearing the biker armor the entire time, the air conditioning in the place making it tolerable. He never took it off when he was here, because brawls broke out far too often for his liking, and when he was around, he was an impromptu bouncer for the guy that ran the joint.<br/><br/>He grabbed his helmet off of the bar next to him, and put it on; he didn't lower the visor until he was outside. As it was night, he only lowered the clear, outer visor, not the darker, inner one, which worked much like sun glasses.<br/><br/>He followed the girl, actually intending to try and stop her from riding home, as she seemed far too intoxicated to handle the drive. He was not entirely unsurprised when Mark showed up, looking for trouble; bikers were a passionate kind of people, and, at least from Jack's view point, easily upset, and driven to violence.<br/><br/>He saw her disappear down the alley, not of her own will, but still, his pace did not entirely quicken. He didn't want to give away his approach; though perhaps, he would later discover, he should have.<br/><br/>By the time he got into the alley, he saw the punch go right into her gut, and that sent him right off the deep end. Jack came up behind the man, and yanked him none-too-gently away from Elena, and before Mark could even get out a '<strong>what the hell',</strong>he found a punch going straight into his jaw.<br/><br/>Now, here's the thing. Jack is wearing biker gloves. They are thin leather with plastic and metal elements, including thick metal knuckle guards. His punch was all knuckle; and the weighted glove, combined with those thin metal plates, and Jack's own strength actually dislocated Mark's jaw.<br/><br/>As the man fell to the ground, Jack gave him a good, sharp kick in the right knee with his steel-toed workman boot, and spat out his words with burning venom.<strong>"If I ever see you again, doing this to <span class="bbc_u">anyone</span>, I am going to rip your balls off and force feed you them. You got me?" </strong><br/><br/>But, the words fell on deaf ears. A combination of head trauma and alcohol saw fit to knock Mark into unconsciousness, with, hopefully, no recollection of the evening. Checking his pulse to make sure he was still alive--and he was-- Jack then turned his attention to the 'damsel in distress'.<br/><br/><strong>"Hey, how bad is it?"</strong>He turned to look at the girl, but kept his distance from her; considering what she just went through, he didn't want to risk provoking her. And when he spoke to her, despite the white-hot burning anger of his words earlier, he now spoke with a soothing coolness and calm.