welcome
Welcome delinquents to PHS #552. A few reminders, no rough housing, no running in the hallways, no cheating, and no talking back to your teachers. Beyond that, enjoy yourselves. After all these are the years you’ll look back on, and remember, you mother fuckers peaked too early.
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credits
Public Highschool #552 was rebooted by Xereon and Aether. Content is copyrighted to PHS #552 unless otherwise stated. The skin is created by Wolf of Gangnam Style. The board and thread remodel is by Kagney and has been heavily edited. Banner Image Credit. Chatbox Credit
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NEW RP DISCORD SERVER. CONTACT "Shugo Yuy#5730" ON DISCORD FOR INFO. |
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COME IN COME ALL AND WATCH THE SPECTACULAR STUDENTS FROM PUBLIC HIGH SCHOOL 552 AS THEY PIT AGAINST EACH OTHER IN BAREKNUCKLE BEATDOWN! Watch as students go toe to toe on this little tournament with an unbelievable budget allocation! See them bite each other in arena made of LEGOS! Make each other bleed in an artificial JUNGLE!, even go as far as making them break bones under an artificial STORM! Really, HOW BIG IS THE BUDGET ON THIS SHIT! SO PLACE OUR BETS AND GO WATCH BAREKNUCKLE BEATDOWN NOW!
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A brand new group is on the making, The Apostles, a Pillar-like group led by none other than our brand new headmaster, Gregoire Girard. A student body that would lead students and enforce the law on this little school of ours. Little is still known about this student body, but who knows? It might just be what the school needs.
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A lunch box is seen last Friday, around 12:37:08pm with an encouraging note packed inside. This appalling display that utterly lacked manliness has left many students stunned and outrage, as some decided, after a long while, to speak out against it.
Full Story Here.
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Post by Deleted on Dec 24, 2014 17:20:44 GMT -5
552 had not been kind to Damien in his first days. More fights and threats than he cared to mention. He had to come to to terms that in this new world he was no longer top dog. All of his father's lessons, he couldn't find how they applied. Courtesy, confidence, nor class seemed to be helping at all. In the world Damien had now entered it was different. The world was crafted by who could do more damage. The men here were the same in only one way. All that mattered was what you are capable of. But it took a whole different skill-set to be the leader of the pack around here.
"Give me another shot"
The Bartender couldn't really argue with Damien's money. As a matter of fact he knew his boss would be more likely to punish him for not taking it. He didn't have much enthusiasm when he poured him a shot of Jack Daniels. Then again, Damien didn't have much either. He didn't even like Jack. Damien was used to a much more exquisite variety of whiskey. They didn't have that here, and this was the first place he found to hide out for the night. At least, he thought he was going to be hiding out.
"Hey haven't you heard of 552? You better do what he says!"
Damien heard from the other corner of the bar.
"Yeah give up the money!!"
Two boys in the back, apparently from Damien's new school were extorting some poor old fucker. Damien turned around. If someone had seen the grimacing look on his face, it should of been obvious what he intended to do. His lips curled up and eyes slanted sharply. He clapped back the shot and let it hit the table with an abnoxious 'Thud!!', and he started toward the boys.
"There isn't anything special about five five fucking two!"
Damien's walk transferred into a full fledged sprint. The bartender behind him had stopped polishing glasses in order to watch the scene. Sprint turned to a leap, and Damien spear-head tackled the first of the two men onto the ground. His hands opened up and stopped himself as the boy bounced further. Damien chambered his knee up and waited for the first sound of a footstep behind him. With his feet still on the ground he sent a kick straight up into the second one's face. It was enough to throw him back and over the chair behind him.
Truth is; Damien wasn't sure if was actually angry or just hungry for some revenge. He had finally found a challenge that was worthy of his time. It was in the form of this new school. However it was beginning to get frustrated how little Damien was able to accomplish with his previous skillset.
He shot a look back to the boy who flew over the chair, he was still struggling to stand. That gave him enough time to continue forward and plant his foot down onto the face of the other student who he tackled. The stomp was lights out, it was meant to be. Damien learned not to play around with these students. He wasn't ready.
Twirling around he charged at the remaining punk as he got his footing. Damien grabbed him by his collar, planted his left foot, and swung him into the nearest table. It had been where the boys were sitting before they started harrassing the old man. This became evident as drinks flew through the air and onto the ground. This was enough, and the concious boy who was thrown into the table started scrambling to get out the door.
Damien heard a thank you from the man the boy were harrassing, and he sort of waved. He was too busy making his way back to his place at the bar.
"One more please, and here's for the damages" Damien said, tossing a couple hundreds onto the table.
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"What is a man? A miserable little pile of secrets. Fuck outta' here."
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Koopa4ADMIN2k15
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Post by ✞ ascension ✞ on Dec 27, 2014 2:14:28 GMT -5
Sporting a very clean Tom Ford black and white suit, Juelz sat within the higher levels of the notorious nightclub. Sitting directly in front of him resided one of his more "loyal" contacts who too seemed to follow the same "dress to impress" tactic. "How's downtown looking?" The Junior would ask as he watched his contact indulging himself in shots of hard liquor. "Better than we expected, to be honest. Little resistance from the local gangs once we ran the numbers. Looks like they want to be apart of this miniature empire, santana." Juelz nodded; left index finger tapping the surface of the table as he witnessed a little nightclub brawl going on within the first level. "Give them sixty percent of whatever they push and if they have any issues with that bump it up to seventy-five percent." His contact eyed him with a "you fucking serious right now" expression; ceasing the drinking completely.
"There's over two-hundred and fifty territories left in New York City, correct? If we can get them all to join our causes, that sixty to seventy percent wont mean a damn thing in the long run, right?" The confused contact nodded, "Besides, sooner or later they'll be after one another once they get to confident. That's when we swoop in and take over completely. And if they don't, more eyes for us." He nodded again before taking another shot and chuckling. "You're one crazy bastard, Santana. Keep it up, you'll be making moves in no time." Juelz so happened to be still watching the brawl before, "Yeah, I know. But I think we're finished here. Just keep me updated if things become 'messy'."
And with that being said, The Junior made his way out of the higher level of the establishment and happened to be accompanied by three larger fellows. "Keep an eye on him, make sure he doesn't get himself killed." He'd ask the three individuals with an mellow tone before making his way to the bartender by his lonesome.
"Get this guy whatever he wants for the remainder of the night for taking care of the trash." He gestured towards the stranger (Damien) before putting on his thick aviator shades and casually strolling towards the exit with hands stuffed into his trouser pockets. |
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Post by Deleted on Dec 27, 2014 15:32:18 GMT -5
Damien heard a voice speaking to the bartender as he cuffed back what was going to be his last shot. Not because of any light-weightness. Mainly because if by around this much time, Damien hadn't found a classy girl to bring home or anything else interesting; he would usually escape back to the family mansion and drink there. If he got lonely this was a perfect place for his blackbook of old-highschool students or if he was looking for some experience he could order high-class escorts. Being in New York tho, he didn't have access to the family mansion. Traveling back and forth every night would be annoying. Damien's father had set him up penthouse in upper Manhattan. Not entirely far from here.
This newcomer who walked up was accompanied by some larger men. Damien noticed this as he pushed his rotating bar-stool around with his right hand. When it came to the offer, Damien would not refuse. Part of living his high class lifestyle meant sharing the costs with other people. He had seen old classmates go around turning down offers by other people. They would show off their money so much that it destroyed them. That, and it would be polite to refuse.
"Thanks mate." Damien said. It might have been something as shallow as the show of status, or something as complex as this boys attitude but Damien sort of liked the change of pace. He wasn't flexing his muscles and waving around his grizzly beard. Something was different about this boy. Damien wasn't about to let him escape without some kind of introduction.
"Wait up a sec. You don't seem like the average type around here. What's your name?"
As Damien spoke he hopped up onto his feet. He pointed to his shot-glass and made sure the bartender knew he wanted another one, then began walking toward this newcomer. He would stop if the goons attempted to intercept him. At least as long as this interesting new face wasn't going to continue to leave.
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user is offline ●
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"What is a man? A miserable little pile of secrets. Fuck outta' here."
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Koopa4ADMIN2k15
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Post by ✞ ascension ✞ on Dec 27, 2014 18:10:21 GMT -5
"I have no idea what it is you're talking about, bro."
Juelz addressed the strangers (Damien) "you don't seem like the average type" comment. Obviously Juelz knew exactly what he was more or less getting at, but he had to play it off to the best of his ability; even if he ultimately didn't give a single fuck. "Just another dude enjoying the night life." His iphone rung; he reached into his suit jacket and pulled out the cellular device.
"Sup?"
"Yeah, I'm at the club."
"Arrangements have been made an---..."
"You don't have to come, I already told y--."
"Yeah, I know..."
"We can drink at my crib yo---..."
"Fine, fuck it. I'll give you thirty minutes. And if you aren't here in ten I'm bouncing."
"Yup, see you soon."
He placed the phone back within his jacket and exhaled a rather depressed sigh. With casual steps, he strolled back over to the bartender and took a seat within one of the stools. "Lemonade." Juelz would order with a relaxed tone and taking off his stylish shades.
"The name is Santana," he bestowed golden eyes on Damien. "Let me be the first to thank you for taking care of some of the scrubs that run around this cesspool of a club. My ideal place to relax and I can't have the riff-raff waving their three inch dicks around like they're big and bad." Truth be told, this club dubbed as a meeting place when he needed to handle drug trafficking related business, but this guy didn't need to know the full details. |
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Post by Deleted on Dec 28, 2014 19:37:21 GMT -5
Hungry hazel irises leapt through the slight drunken haze that had settled upon Damien's head like a gentle ash-rain after volcanic activity. A slight light-headedness, the beginnings of a braver more social state-of-mind was coming over him. Though the adrenaline rush still pumping through his veins from the one on two fight was holding it mostly at bay. There was a certain familiarity to the 'aura' this Santana was casting off of him. Most of the groups of people he had come across since his relocation were a little bit like dogs. Eyes leaping from moment to moment, living in reaction as opposed to proaction. Not to mention the snarling teeth and barking at anything that moved to fast. It was as if they relied on outside stimulis to tell them what to do and when to do it. There was no inner-dialogue. No deeper meaning.
"Just trying to enhance my bar-experience." Damien retorted. "No thanks necessary."
Damien began toward the bar where he had once sat. He joined Santana on the stools, propping himself off the bar with one foot, so the stool leaned back. He placed his right hand next to his shot. Just now Damien had noticed his hands were growing rough from his time in the new school. His eyes fell upon the cracks in his skin. Flashbacks of fists hitting flesh trained through his head.
"Honestly since they stuck me in 552 I haven't been running into much but trash."
His eyes stayed on his hand. He tried to seem uninterested in the subject. Truthfully Damien was fishing for information again. Throwing stones into the waters. Watching them ripple. Reading the patterns.
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user is offline ●
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"What is a man? A miserable little pile of secrets. Fuck outta' here."
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Koopa4ADMIN2k15
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Post by ✞ ascension ✞ on Dec 28, 2014 23:23:38 GMT -5
"552, huh?"
The sharply dressed Junior took a sip of the lemonade clutched firmly. "Bitter," He eyed the bartender who eyed him back, "just how I like it." The words of the stranger (Damien) didn't bring him any shock, for it seemed many people were being transferred or forcefully put within that public hellhole. Reaching into his inner suit pocket, Juelz brought out a rather "fancy" zippo lighter; pure silver with the picture of a snarling lion engraved expertly within the pricey alloy. Moments later, his dexterous fingers being opening, closing, and moving the lighter with style and flare.
"I hear a lot about that PHS number five-five-two." He chuckled before continuing, "Must fucking blow, huh? The public educational system is already piss poor, but five-five-two? A school that makes its own rules and outcome? Tch, whoever thought it would be a good idea for riff-raff to direct riff-raff needs to fucking lose their position of power for being an fucking clueless idiot." |
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Post by Deleted on Dec 29, 2014 0:33:42 GMT -5
Intently listening was more of a skill than some people gave it credit for. Damien noticed he went on disparroging 552. This meant either he agreed completely with Damien, or was simply feeding Damien what he thought he wanted to hear. 'Twas too early to tell. A fresh note was detected in his speech. Santana's comments veered up past this student body and at the founder. Since he had arrived he had not heard much of that talk. This would not go unnoticed.
Damien let his hand snap the shotglass up and back. His throat lit up deeply. That familiar burn decorated his throat from his mouth down to his stomachs. It danced and twirled down leaving a string of ribbon to tickle him. Had it not been for long practice Damien almost would have choked. He turned to Santana and gave him a nod in reply to what he was saying.
"Where there is potential for destruction, there may also be great bounty." Spoke Damien. "All that keeps it's current state as messy as is it, is aimlessness. Put an entrepreneur into the mix. With a few heads together who knows how much could be taken advantage of."
Entrepreneur. Damien thought this was a good word for how Santana looked to him.
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user is offline ●
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"What is a man? A miserable little pile of secrets. Fuck outta' here."
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Koopa4ADMIN2k15
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No Group
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Post by ✞ ascension ✞ on Dec 29, 2014 1:24:59 GMT -5
"Maybe, but are the spoils worth it?" He took another sip of the bitter lemonade with his free hand. "If the right person with the right ideas come along, I suppose that cesspool of a place could flourish into something greater. As it stands right now, that school is nothing more of a prison built on a foundation of pipe-dreams and violence." Juelz witnessed this violence first hand time and time again. Students flaunt around seeking blood and throw fits of rage when they aren't given what they are after. And we cannot forgot about those who don't understand the meaning of "repercussions". Those are the individual's who feel entitled to do whatever it is they want to do, to whoever it is they want to do it to. Juelz shook his head as he relived his short days within those halls with many many many more to come.
"The idea of corporal punishment to set misguided youth back on the right course is a sound one when executed correctly. But..." He paused and examined the glass in hand before stuffing the zippo lighter back within the depths of his suit jacket. "PHS Number Five-Five-Two is fucking up in more ways than one. And sometimes it's just better to count your losses and reevaluate your mistakes so it won't happen again in the future." |
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Post by Deleted on Dec 29, 2014 14:36:58 GMT -5
Damien smiled, kicked back his head, and laughed. Words of submission and acceptance always tickled Damien's ears. One of the things that separated him from the beginning is he knew that wasn't an option. He laughed the same way his father would have laughed if a similar notion was brought up by one of the board members in a company meeting. The same way a psychopath laughs at the notion of remaining normal. Damien cocked his head over to this side, his spontaneous amusement stopping alltogether as if someone hit the pause button.
"So I'm supposed to just bide-time? Like I'm in some kind of purgatory?" Damien hoisted his feet off of the barstand. One quick spinning motion put them up onto the stool beside him. He used it as a footrest; now facing Santana completely. "As far as I can tell the pillars are deemed useless if they are beaten. Then, should the newly appointed pillars choose to work toward something other than the schools most basic function, in order to save face they will have to let it happen."
Behind him, Damien heard the shouts of a man falling from the balcony level all the way to the floor.
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user is offline ●
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"What is a man? A miserable little pile of secrets. Fuck outta' here."
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Koopa4ADMIN2k15
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No Group
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Post by ✞ ascension ✞ on Dec 29, 2014 15:31:12 GMT -5
"You make it sound like you're interested in running the school? Are you interested in taking over?" More of the bitter lemonade slid down his gullet. "Because even if you can gather the forces needed to take over, defeat the Pillars, and slowly begin taking over. You have to keep in mind you probably won't be the only group with such goals. You'll have to fight opposing groups all while keeping an watchful eye on the Pillars and challenge them when the time comes. You'll need to keep yourself in good shape so they don't strike you before you strike them, understand?" He downed the remaining tall glass before continuing. "Plus, those that defend the Pillars. Among ever group of outcasts are those with deadly cases of Stockholm syndrome. Just seems like a lot of work for a low key prison for rejects and idiots."
Bloodcurdling screams followed by shocking gasps interrupted the conversation between Juelz and Damien...
The music stopped and the club goers simply watched as the motionless body laid spread out across the grimy floor of the nightclub. Juelz gaze fell upon the body; he recognized the getup almost instantly. "Marcus..."
Seething rage...
He strolled over to the intoxicated male, used his foot to roll him over on his back and examined his battered and bruised face. With groans of agony and pain, Marcus found himself going in and out of consciousness. "He'll live," Juelz gestured over to one of his men off to the sidelines of the club. "Get him out of here and call for a doctor while you're at it."
His gaze fixated upon the balcony overhead...
Adjusting his tie as the brawny individual carried away Marcus. Juelz began making his way up the stairs to the upper level of the nightclub. |
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Post by Deleted on Dec 29, 2014 16:03:08 GMT -5
The conversation had halted. It seemed as though for a good reason. Rather than simply turn around as Santana walked past him, Damien simply leaned all the way back and watched the scene with an upside-down point of view. Santana said a name. Damien hadn't really heard it properly through the smoke of the club. Perhaps it would have been easier if it hadn't suddenly become so much louder up top.
Damien reeled his feet up yet again, allowing his hand to reach back over his topsie turvy head and sort of summersaulted backward onto his feet. It was part of an act Damien had sharpened in his old days bringing drunk girls out of parties and into his limo. Damien jogged, just enough to catch up to the bottom of the stairs as Santana began his ascent. Damien purposely threw his shoulder against the railing as if he had lost control attempting to turn.
"Hey! wa.... what the fuck?! ?" He spoke up at a ground of muscled men in matching leather jackets descended the stairs. His apparent 'drunken slob' routine was a great dissarming strategy. Blending in wasn't usually enough in order to truly drop someone's guard. They had to be associating you with someone the least likely to cause trouble. Damien had used this strategy his entire school career for dipping under the radar as he took students away for his torment. It sort of came from him naturally. This would be a good first run for use in combat.
"You didn't even invite me to the partyyyyy?! HEHEHEE!"
Damien fell forward onto his hands on the stair-case. He headed up in a strange sort of crawl. Damien was synthesizing the drunk eye wobble, skimming left to right just in front of him where his hands would go next. In reality his peripherals were waiting for the first advancement. His position would keep them from using their high ground to send him teetering backwards.
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user is offline ●
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"What is a man? A miserable little pile of secrets. Fuck outta' here."
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Koopa4ADMIN2k15
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No Group
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Post by ✞ ascension ✞ on Dec 29, 2014 16:36:32 GMT -5
It wouldn't be easy figuring out the individual(s) that were causing such random commotion. The musclebound thugs in matching leather jackets seemed like the type to flaunt around, fight, and take what they want. But when Juelz shoot them that judgement glare of his... They didn't even react; not even a hint of hostility. It almost seemed as if they were trying to get away from the violence instead of starting some themselves.
"Tch,"
Still adjusting his tie, steady eyes scanned from left to right. So many people; watching, looking, and waiting. Something was definitely amiss here and Juelz was about to get to the bottom of it right now. Slow steps in suede dress shoes carried his frame forward until he was in the middle of the makeshift dance floor.
"So, whats the issue?"
He asked those surrounding him on all sides. Like moths attracted to a low burning flame, five men of Asian descent stepped forward dressed in business man attire. "Message for you, Mister Santana." One of them spoke up with a faint smirk.
"Hurry the fuck up. I don't like playing with my food." He retorted with his typical wit as he rolled up his suit sleeves; that burning rage still apparent in his eyes.
"The deal is off." With that being said, the five men attacked in unison; each aiming from a different side and angle. Juelz sighed and took a sudden step forward; intercepting the attack from the man directly in front of him. Utilizing the punishing nature of Krav Maga, the first assailant found his attacking appendage caught by the wrist, trapped, and then snapped in one single motion. Another bloodcurdling scream echoed through the nightclub as Juelz tossed the man into one approaching from the side.
Another assailant from the left side went for a roundhouse kicked aimed directly for the rib cage. Juelz caught the flying leg, took a step forward, then delivered a gut crippling punch which caused the attacker to first throw up his small amounts of consumed alcohol before dropping to his knees gasping for oxygen. Directly in front of Juelz came flying yet another leg. He rose both arms and blocked the powerful kick with crossed arms. The blow sent him sliding back roughly ten meters with arms slightly numb from the impact.
"If the deal is off, that's fine. But if you think you fuckers are walking out of here in one piece, you need to think again." |
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Post by Deleted on Dec 29, 2014 21:06:41 GMT -5
Damien headed further up the stairs. The men he had expected to be the perpetrators sort of ignored him back up Santana in whatever he was doing. It would have been a little frustrating for some people. Damien hardly even blinked. His big dumb goofy smile stay painted across his cheeks. Not even a flinch broke character. He continued to like a haggard drunk. His mentality was a little bit more formatted to an approaching leopard.
As he came to the top of the stairs, Santana moved in. The entire scene was interesting to say the least. Something hit Damien's satellite ears. To the information seeker this one statement was liek a plate of raw beef to a hungry pitbull. ["the deal is off"] Unlike disappointment, which Damien was accustom to ignoring; satisfaction broke his drunken act for a moment. There at the top of the staircase came upon a look of strange recognition. Damien stood their stunned as Santana became surrounded. That name.. Santana. These guys... He couldn't be related to...?
Before Damien finished his thought Santana was covered in ricers. It was as if some director called ACTION!! Damien came roaring in. He was tilted forward in almost a full falling position, his feet coming forward to both sprint and catch his weight in each stride. Back to the drunken act, he grabbed one of the gang members from the back, pulling his shoulder down. A large tackled would strike him from the back. Damien caught him as he fell forward before he hit the ground, and lunged. He used the asian's weight and tossed him as if he was a giant bowling ball into another one of them. This knocked them both overs and put a lot of eyes on Damien.
"I'll take three orders of... um.. shweet and sour perk!" Damien said mockingly. The asians were up fast. Obviously a little more fighting savvy than the two Damien had all but assassinated earlier.
Two sets of fists came in fast. Damien moved left and right but became overwhelmed. It only took two shots welcoming into his face to spring him into action. He dove in to shorten the range and brought both arms over his head. As the two men grabbed downward he would stand straight up. Damien used his height advantage up, raising his hands straight up and forcing them stumbling backward. All at one he took a left step forward, swiveled and leaned into a brutish side-kick. The force slammed into the right-ganger's ribcage and sent him back and away. Without a breath, Damien stepped onto his extended right leg and got a strong hold of the remaining asian's coat. He pulled him in and revved his forehead into a the bridge of a many-time broken nose. Blood erupted into Damien's brown hair.
"Waaat this dude said!!!
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user is offline ●
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"What is a man? A miserable little pile of secrets. Fuck outta' here."
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Koopa4ADMIN2k15
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Post by ✞ ascension ✞ on Dec 30, 2014 15:05:39 GMT -5
"What the fuck are you doing?!"
Juelz bellowed towards the drunkard (Damien) as he grabbed him by the back of his collar and swung him off to the sidelines. "This doesn't concern you. Now take a seat and try to throw-up on my suede." The Junior would continue as one of the mobsters rushed him yet again with a flurry of punches and kicks. Juelz' read the disciplined; yet very predictable combatant like an open book. At the climax of the last punch, The Junior would redirect the force and momentum of the punch off to the side and deliver a vision impairing headbutt. With a grunt of agony from the lips of the Asian, Juelz followed up with a roundhouse kick which sent the blinded assailant flipping over one of the nearest tables.
"Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! My fucking wrist!!!"
The broken mobster screamed in extreme pain and shock. "You broke my fucking wrist, I'll kill you, you bitch!" The mobster screamed again; charging like some savaged bull with the intent to cause extreme physical harm any nothing else. Juelz simply took a step back as he approached; the pain obviously clouding his better judgement and making his movements sloppy and slugish. The mobster threw a haymaker with his good arm, but Juelz simply evaded it and trapped the mobsters arm by the wrist before he could even retract. "You're going to learn today..." He whispered as the pressure of the grip steadily increased...
SNAP...
The mobster fell to his knees with two broken wrists; his hands flopping to opposite sides like a realistic doll. Juelz left the Asian to whimper and stew in his own broth of despair as he eyed the last mobster finally raising to his feet with clinched teeth. |
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Post by Deleted on Dec 30, 2014 17:28:43 GMT -5
Damien heard Santana's voice behind him. Fortunately, as normally getting grabbed by his shirt would have allowed muscle action to snap into action. On a whim; he dropped his guard and allowed himself to sort of stumble off the dance floor and dissipate into the crowd. Damien had already put the gang-members' guard down but Santana had effectively taking their targets off of him altogether. He snuck around as Santana began taking care of the gang member. It wasn't hard for Damien to shark in on the other remaining Asian as he was very obviously angered. By the time he stood up Damien was right behind him.
The gang member stepped forward away from his table, but Damien grabbed his left wrist from behind and yanked back. In one swift motion he used his right paw to grab the back of his head, and slammed his face down onto the glasses and bottles of the table. They smashed, and the table snapped off the post holding it upright from the ground. The asian man screamed loudly, peices of glass dancing from his cheeks and around his eyes.
"Thanks for cleaning off your table sir." Damien said, finally returning to the fluidity of his regular voice. Damien stared directly at Santana. He never broke eye contact as he pulled the asian back up by his hair, stepped in front of his legs and shoved him forward. Effectively making the man fall back onto the face that had just become riddled with glass. The pain caused his brain to opt out, and he became unconcious there on the floor.
Stepping over the downed final member of the group, Damien walked up to Santana. Posture had returned to him. He was showing off a little bit, but here he didn't have to keep up his act for everyone. Since he had transfered schools, Damien was finally allowed to let the beast out in public.
"I already told you, I'm enhancing my bar experience." Damien said, brushing a few flakes of glass of his shoulder. "Sharing is caring." Damien was amused with himself. His test fire of his little game had been a success.
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