[A bolt of panic races through him as he surveys the destruction, panting like a mad bull in a battlefield; heaving shoulders, unfocused eyes. There's nothing left to destroy. His whole room is diminished to rubble. But the hollowness is creeping in, crying for more, feed it. He can hear it screaming with every pound of his racing heart throbbing over the pulse of the music, thundering in his ears.
He can't stop here. It doesn't end here. He's not done yet.
If this was home, he would have gotten his fill out on the streets, shown up a shadow in Casey's window thirsting for blood. Find the best punks - the gangsters and druggies with that desperate look in their eyes. Feral. The kind with knives and blades and aren't afraid to use them. Those are his favorite kind, the desperate ones. He can smell it on a man from blocks away, the kind of guy who isn't afraid to cut a limb that's offered to him. The kind of scum that will give you the hits you need.
Then he'd stumble back home, high on his own endorphins, bleeding and satisfied.
He can't find that here. Not in this land full of heroes. No. He had other ways of quenching that thirst.
He downs the rest of the whiskey in three swallows.
On the other side of the door, it all goes strangely quiet save for the steady throb of music and the sound of breaking glass.]
[Action]
He can't stop here. It doesn't end here. He's not done yet.
If this was home, he would have gotten his fill out on the streets, shown up a shadow in Casey's window thirsting for blood. Find the best punks - the gangsters and druggies with that desperate look in their eyes. Feral. The kind with knives and blades and aren't afraid to use them. Those are his favorite kind, the desperate ones. He can smell it on a man from blocks away, the kind of guy who isn't afraid to cut a limb that's offered to him. The kind of scum that will give you the hits you need.
Then he'd stumble back home, high on his own endorphins, bleeding and satisfied.
He can't find that here. Not in this land full of heroes. No. He had other ways of quenching that thirst.
He downs the rest of the whiskey in three swallows.
On the other side of the door, it all goes strangely quiet save for the steady throb of music and the sound of breaking glass.]