Push It Real Good

Let's start a riot

Why did he move to this shithole? It was so fucking boring here, maybe he was better off in New York City. At least things were a little bit interesting there. He took another drag from his cigarette before he flicked it to the pavement. He really need to give the shit up, but he was so fucking stressed out. No, what he really needed was something to do in his spare time. Sure, being the repo guy was fun in its own way, but it had so many rules. No beating people up unless they swung first, all that bullshit.

Pushing himself away from the wall he had been leaning against, Kaine decided to take a walk. He could feel the muscles in his legs just beginning to weaken. A pang of anxiety ran through him at the thought. Muscle turned to fat when you didn't upkeep it. He didn't want to be fat. No, wait, he couldn't survive being fat. No, motherfucking, no, no, no. Fingers flexed as he tried to bring himself back from the edge of having a panic attack. People got hurt when that happened and he never got to remember it.

“Get the fuck out of my way,” he snarled as someone bumped into his shoulder. He didn't even see who it was, he was too busy beating back his temper. A gym. He needed a gym and a punching bag. Human, actual bag, didn't matter. He needed one and he needed it quickly.

Another person bumped into him and this time he didn't bother making a coherent sentence. An elbow came up and collided with flesh, sending another innocent passerby stumbling backwards. “Call the cops and I'll come back to finish the job,” he growled with sharp eyes and a accusing finger.