Knucks does not know the investment that he just destroyed, nor is he curious enough to find out. This man screaming rhetorical questions is standing between him and a payday and that can't happen.
Knucks grew up Native, which meant being surrounded by magic. He knows what it feels like to get hit with a spell - spells you couldn't see, couldn't dodge, couldn't do anything about but to eat the pain - and he doesn't like it. The NoPaint is taking care of half the pain but Knucks knows that his skin is blistering and that he will likely lose some hair, maybe even a tooth or a tusk. But, worst of all, he's knows he's going to miss several days at the gym while he waits for his guts to knit themselves back together.
With a howl of rage, Knucks channels his anger into a scything uppercut that turns the magician's jaw into powder shortly before propelling the man's teeth through the roof of his mouth. The odontoid process of the second cervical vertebra breaks from the force of the blow and hits the man's medulla oblongata, killing him.
The lone survivor of the Technoids soils himself and runs back up the hill. Knucks has little difficulty running the boy down and grabbing him by the scruff of his neck. He holds the boy up as the kid's legs pedal helplessly in midair. "Stay out of Dogtown!" he screams, failing to think of something witty to say. "OR UNCLE KNUCKS IS GONNA GET YA!"
He stares at the boy, the sad little human, so small, so fragile, so weak. Instead of pity, he feels disgust, revulsion for everything he himself used to be. He assuages the uncomfortable comparison by throwing his forehead - protected by the ballistic mask - into the kid's nose. He then throws the kid down and kicks him in the rear until the boy gets up and runs.
Knucks wants to linger, to savor the victory and the pain of the breeders. Instead he feels a hot ache inside that suggests that his ribs might not be in the right place. Looking around, he sees a few dead bodies and is reminded that that the local authorities may not approve. He breaks into a trot as he heads downhill toward Expo and Uffington, pausing only for a few moments to frisk WizKid and the magician for anything valuable. Turning his commlink and wireless functionality back on, he jacks up his augmented hearing to listen for approaching sirens.
Rejoing the elf and the dwarf, the ork says, "C'mon, let's get off the street."