[h3]Steven Diggs - Punk Table[/h3]
PREPPIE!

Forget the fact that she looked exactly like Danica Patrick. The heel clicks, the lack of politeness, the domineering tone, hell, Steve could almost smell the money on her. Plus he was suspicious enough of everything these days to know an infiltrator when he saw one. Especially after that incident in the garage with Charro six months ago. They'd been cleaning the stains from that for weeks. And then Loose Lacey had clarified that she was a Siren. Fan-tucking-fastic! 

"[color=00aeef]Grab 'er![/color]" That was the first reaction Steven Diggs had. The second was the grin of absolute, malicious glee that formed on the enforcer face. Forget getting Charro out of here. Steven Diggs demanded satisfaction. Had a preppie really walked over here into hostile territory? Oh it was like Christmas! No, it was better than Christmas, it was the Daytona 500! She clearly did not get the concept of the Punk, and their murderous hatred for the Prep clique. His foot slammed on to the table, causing the toolbox to burst open. Something flew out of the open top, a remote for... something which the Punk enforcer snatched from the sky and triggered.

Immediately, the air was filled with the [url=https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jRtj9qv30dg]loud, crunching sounds of obnoxious thrash metal[/url] emanating from Steve's toolbox. It was enough to make it difficult to hear as the Punk flunkies moved out to grab each limb of the Preppie that had just entered their territory. One of them was carrying what looked like a gag. This girl wasn't an unknown to them, and her voice was her most dangerous weapon of all. They had to incapacitate her quickly, mouth and all, and thankfully they had the numbers. The preppie was cut off and alone.

Over the sound of the music, Steven Diggs roared. "[color=00aeef]You waltzed right th'FUCK own into th'wrong neighbourhood, mawfugga![/color]"