[sub][h3][center]Archie[/center][/h3][/sub][hr]Few in the world had felt [i]rage[/i].

Not the trite anger one feels when they get beaten at a video game, or the irritation when something goes wrong that day.

No, rage was a black, bubbling feeling that carves a hole in one’s chest and makes you sick, that demands a way out, that makes you want to pick up a rock- not a weapon, [i]a rock[/i]- and beat someone until they break. To swing and swing and swing until there's nothing left but shattered bone and pulped flesh.

It's a feeling that demands vengeance. It demands violence. But most of all, it demands [i]understanding[/i]. That the world could be fair. Or that this is what you get. Or that one wasn’t so different from the rest. It wants to make the other person understand that they [i]deserve it.[/i]

Archie felt [i]rage.[/i]

His parents were never good people. His mother was the more insidious of the two. She didn’t have the resolve that dad did, so she lashed out with words. A special kind of evil, it was. Then she left. When she walked out, Archie felt rejected and worthless. After all, mother knew best.

His father was just like any drunk- always drinking, always squinting, always sloppy. Yeah, just another of a thousand. That was dad. He was mostly harmless, or was, until he had gone out and gotten himself killed and left him alone in the world as a child.

Archie, laying on the ground, felt it. The rage. The sanguine reds and blacks that accompany that sick feeling, deep down in your gut. The feeling that made his muscles shake and his heart pound. The pressure behind his eyes. It wasn’t fair. Why him? Why pick him for everything? Huh? He hadn’t done anything to deserve what had happened to him! He was seven years old! They should feel this. They should be the ones hurting. They should. They should. His chest burned. He heard words being spoken to him, but they were all wrong. All he heard was the words of his neighbors turned captors.

[i]Bitch.
Coward.
Worthless.
Stupid.
Idiot.
Animal.
Freak.[/i]

It all came rushing back. His vision swam from the concussion, and when he looked at the strangers trying to help him he saw only the familiar faces, whom had hurt him.

Archie felt force on his person. Heat and throbbing in his head as if he had been shot again. Hands holding him down- as if they were going to hurt him again. No, he would not have it. He wouldn’t let them hurt him again. A scream tore from Archie’s throat, and his hands flew up and grabbed Lynn’s arms with strength that was unbecoming of his size. He was yelling still- in agony, and in rage.  Archie felt his jaws begin to break. The screaming continued and he forcefully shoved her off of him. He rolled onto his hands and knees, his screaming being abruptly silenced by the contents of his stomach exiting his body through his nose and broken face, reduced to a gurgle.  Everyone around him stepped away, either by reflex from his vomit or out of fear for his health. Was he having a seizure?

Archie struggled, his back arching unnaturally upwards as his very muscles became uncomfortably tight. His arms came upwards to his face, desperately scratching with what was rapidly becoming less nail and more claw. He filleted himself, slicing through skin as his eyes themselves changed. He kicked wildly with his legs, thrashing his broken body and rending muscle from bone as they lengthened and reattached themselves. He closed his eyes, curling in on himself, suffering through the torture.

As soon as it came, the pain faded away. Slowly and steadily what was once Archie swelled and rose to its feet now an enormous, unnatural amalgamation of man and beast. There were no guards left, and thus no nullifiers. Most of the students were all alone. The behemoth craned its neck over mammoth shoulders, overlooking those that remained. Its gaze fixated on Lynn, recognizing her scent. [i]I won’t let you hurt me again.[/i]

It reached over, grabbing an entire table with one enormous hand and ripped it from it’s bolts. Metal groaned and tore against the force, and the entire piece of furniture was hurled towards the small group of remaining students with indiscriminate aim. The giant was lashing out, trying to hurt them like it had been hurt, itself. 

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[@He Who Walks Behind][@levinfist][@Silver Carrot][@Ceta de Cloyes]