Heavy Heart, Bitter Beast (Open)

Eggs. That was what Jack was on the hunt for, high-noon, wobbling a bit as he walked the streets of Loguetown, bags under his eyes and a wicked scowl on his face. "Gods damned, hangovers fucking suck. So glad I don't have to deal with this shit normally." He griped as he continued his search, glaring away anyone who was stupid enough to get too close. That was, until a bunch of obviously neanderthal-ish thugs circled around him, bearing crude clubs and steel pipes. "Well well, new meat. This 'ere turf is under control of our boss, the Hellfire Queen. That means y'gotta pay a tax, or y' deal wif us."

Jack's eyes narrowed, the bags becoming more apparent, and his scowl turned into a wicked grin. "'zat fuckin' so, mate? Cuz ah jus' bloody left 'er 'ouse, and the bird ain't said a damn 'bout any tax, so you fuckin' wankers ain't gettin' a single coin o' my dosh, y'hear me? Or d' ah need ta talk fuckin' slower f'r ya?" He stood stark upright on the last bit, his remarkable height compared to the men becoming easily noticeable, as the air around him wavered.

Either too dim to notice, or too angry to care, the thugs all moved forward, aiming to pile on and attack Jack, who simply vanished in a blur, reappearing a few feet behind the thug who'd spoken. "Guess ya fuckin' twats don't quite get it. Ah was at 'er 'ouse 'cause the dame decided to drag me onto 'er crew. So ah'd know if she 'ired idjits like you lot. So. Get. LOST!" In another blur, Jack vanished again, vanishing and reappearing in quick repetition behind each thug and tossing them off into the distance in random directions, before stopping in front of the apparent leader and grinning, delivering a heart-stopping knee strike into his stomach, causing him to topple onto the ground.