Still engaged with the guy who'd picked the fight in the first place, Chuck has to wonder just how many friends this asshole has, all of them probably just as eager for a fight as he is himself. Either way, though, he doesn't think it matters. He feels better now than he has since the day he arrived here, both for every hit he lands and every one he takes. The guy's a fucking amateur, anyway, someone who thinks he's tough probably just because most of the people he's attempted to start brawls with have backed down before. That sure as hell isn't going to be the case now. For his own part, Chuck's always been more about aggression than technique, though he's as well-trained as anyone else who went through the Jaeger Program. Now, just having an outlet for that does wonders.

"Watch it," he manages to half-shout, a warning to that guy who looks like Dr. Gottlieb, though there's not much time that goes with it. Finally having gotten close enough to again, he slams the face of the guy he's been fighting into the bar, spitting blood onto the floor a moment later with a wild grin. "That's four down. So who's next?"