Running this bitch off the road was only the beginning of their tiff. With a sniff of the air, there it was again, that undersea funk, the crustaceous stank that he had just gotten away from. Some shit was going down on the beach, and of course their little street race ended up leading them right back to the sea stampede. Following after her path of destruction, Howie used the railing she had busted through as a ramp to make a jump down onto the beach below, keeping chase as she weaved through the people and monsters running around in all directions.

Cackling at the top of his lungs, he watched as her and her new crab friend sped on down the coast, fumbling for something. Surely that was no good. Speeding up to one of the other beasts, one in particular being a clam on two seemingly humanoid legs, Howie latched his claws onto the lip of a gaping shellfish's mouth as it tried to snap at him, bending it backward as he sped on past until it snapped at the hinge, ripping the scallop shield right off and guarding himself of the oncoming stray shots, flinching and weaving his bike out of reflex even if the bullets whizzed off of the barrier.

Obnoxious crunching and chewing noises didn't seem to stop even during their gracious host's speech, nearly finishing off the greasy bucket by this point as Howie half-listened to the weirdos around the room give their spiels. Sucking the sheen off of his claws, then brushing them onto his chest, Howie finally spoke up.

"Any of you need wheels, I got the best rides in town. Something discrete, or something with some real horsepower, we got it." Burping loudly, he let out a high pitched cackle before continuing, "Untraceable, modded, overclocked, or just something seriously badass, drop by the garage and I'll hook you up personally." Pausing and squinting his eyes, he looked around the room, "...and it ain't cheap, no loans or interest, just get to taste the rubber of my tire if you don't pay up..."

Then his nose seemed to latch onto something, sniffing away at the air as a literal deadman came rolling out of one of the trashcans. He coulda sworn he had smelled something when he came in, but he was jowls deep in his bucket of chicken to notice. Now it was unmistakable. This guy fucking reeked. Curling his lip, Howie was struggle to decide if it made him sick or hungry smelling a pile of rotten bones laying around.

Shouldering his way into the premises, a bucket of fried chicken hugged under his fur-clad arm, a hulking beast man stood in the doorway. A clawed hand popped the welding goggles up off of his eyes and onto his brow, peering around the dusty interior with a curled lip, baring an incisor. Bringing a drumstick up to his mouth, he took a bite, followed by another, finishing with an audible crunch as he snapped right through the bone, chewing up his greasy goodness and calling out to the group.

"What is this Halloween or somethin'? I guess I forgot my costume at home, sorry chief." He gestured to the man in the skull mask with his half eaten chicken leg. Letting out a high pitched cackle, sending bits of bone and chicken spraying from his teeth briefly, he found the closest seat and dropped himself into it with a thud, creaking under his weight, before propping his legs up. His black combat boots were split at the toe, a set of sharp claws jutting out of the material. Chicken grease dripped down onto the sleeveless leather jacket he wore, running his claws back through his red maned mohawk while he looked around the room at the interesting group of freaks that had shown up. He didn't see Hothead here yet, maybe he was running late.

As things quickly turned south, Howie's wild gaze fell half-lidded, lip curling into a grimace. All of the fun momentum had come to a halt because they wanted to pussy out and pull out some super soakers. Taking a deep breath, Howie sighed and shook his head, grumbling audibly.

"I gotta be honest, Hotshot, I was not planning on getting shot today.."

Reluctantly, Howie rolled his eyes, mockingly nodding to the goons approaching him, as if to tell them to hurry up. "Cmon, fellas, lets get it over with... do your worst..." Raising his hands up, his feigned white flag, he waited just until one had gotten within his reach, before his grimace curled into a grin once again. Suddenly lurching forward, he moved to snatch up the mans wrist toting the knife, spinning him around and pressing his own knife against his neck, holding him tightly as a meat shield, even if he wanted to wriggle and fight. Either he slits his own throat or he plays nice and takes some bullets for him, honestly either worked for Howie at this point.

Howie had had enough of this brat. Saved her a few times and yet all she wanted to do was whine and pout. Gritting his teeth and gripping the handlebars on his bike, he decided it was finally time to ditch this bitch. With another rev of the engine, he kicked the front wheel up off of the ground with a wheelie for a moment, before slamming it down and hitting the brakes, catapulting the back wheel up into the air like a bucking bronco, seesawing this passenger into the air and launching her off into the beach beast parade. With a cackle, Howie watched her get flung, cranking the throttle a few times and offering her one last clawed middle finger, before speeding off back toward the city streets up the embankment.

"Good luck kid! Enjoying being fish food!"

Howie's large fist nearly dwarfed Eiji's as he met his bump with his own, brandishing his incisors in a grin. His claws fished around in his leather jacket for a second, tugging out a cigarette and a lighter, propping the cancer stick between his teeth as he brought up the lighter, flipping open the metal hinged lid and pressing his thumb to the spark wheel. Then it dawned on him, raising an eyebrow and looking up at the frightened faces of a few of the men, and he paused before chuckling to himself. That's right... whole place is covered in gas, whoops! That would have been silly to blow them all to smithereens. Ah whatever, cigs can wait, its time to bust some heads.

As the two goons approached them, Howie held the cigarette tight in his teeth, hurling himself off of his bike and at the man with the same energy brought. Leaping on all fours, he batted the thrusting knife away with his claws, immediately following up by grabbing the guy by the collar and hurling him backward into his friends.

Baring his spiny teeth, Howie growled through clenched jaw at the group, "Hummingbirds might not kill people, but funny enough I'm not with those goody goods... so what does that say about me, huh?" Howie's clawed hand hung at his side, ready to slash up anyone else who had something to prove.