Have you ever stopped in the middle of something and wondered why the hell you were doing it? Why you cared? Why this was important? Or, further, have you ever stopped to think about the point? What's the point?

That's what I'm doing right now. So here I go again. Same old crap. Does this really help? Does it make me feel any better?

I dunno. I'd like to think that it does. I tell myself that it does. I have no idea if that's really true. But, hell, its better than letting it all bottle up inside. It's better than exploding with rage one day. If I have to mess up a couple of douche bags every day than so be it.

Another low-life. Another despicable bastard. Another pathetic human being that made Devlin want to exterminate the human race. Seemingly, this guy wanted to rape her. Another predator of the innocent. God damned coward…

He was an ugly, thick headed, bald man. It wasn't enough that it looked like he hadn't bought new clothes since nineteen eighty one. No, to complete the look this man seemed to have not changed them nor bathed since that date as well. His leathery face was full of scars, marks and general blotches.

"Yo."

The disgusting man shifted his focus from the woman to the man who had just yelled at him.

"Buzz off, I don't do guys."

"Knock that shit off."

"Are you seri "

Suddenly Devlin whipped the back of his palm across the man's stubbly face, an action that sent him spinning to the ground.

"Shut the fuck up, you don't get to speak, you cockroach."

From his embarrassing crouch on the ground, the man went for a gun in his pocket. Devlin had the man's forearm in a vice grip before the gun was out. Pulling the man's hand away from the gun, he lifted him into the air, hanging him by his head.

"I would kill your right now except this poor woman has been through enough…." The man didn't beg for his life. Actually, he didn't beg because Devlin didn't wait for a response. In one swift motion he grabbed him by the back of the head and smashed his face into the nearby brick wall. After two more of these smashes, Devlin had felt that the man had had enough.

Once she was considerably safe, the victimized woman became the object of Devlin's attention.

The woman didn't look like some young, naïve thing. She had been around the block. She knew what the world was like. She had blonde hair that fell to just above her neck. She looked to be somewhere in her thirties. The outfit she wore reflected some strive to look professional. However, the fact that she was leaving work from in the red-light district betrayed her.

"You…You're the one they're all calling Bloodrage, right?" she whispered.

"Oh God…" Devlin sighed. "Are you okay?"

Devlin himself didn't look like much of a hero. His messy, light brown hair fell to his neck. He hadn't cut it in nearly a year. He didn't wear all black. He didn't wear big boots. He wore ratty sneakers, faded jeans and a top that screamed…nothing at all. The tiny scars and scabs on his hands and forearms, the uneven attempt at a shave, the look on his face, all of this showed that he didn't pay too much attention to physical appearance.

The woman was clearly terrified. The threat was over but she was still shaking, a normal physiological response to stress. She wouldn't be "okay" for an hour, maybe two, but that much was to be expected.

"I'll be fine," she responded.

After the typical "thank you for saving me" and all that crap, Devlin watched her descend the stairs to the subway. He beat someone up. He wasn't her bodyguard. He wasn't trying to impress her. That was that. She was on her own now.

Bloodrage was the name that all the Cambria Bay papers were giving Devlin. They were trying to make him some sort of superhero. They wanted to market him in an attempt to sell more papers. Devlin hated it.

They chose the violent name because Devlin was no altruistic guardian. He beat people up. It's what he did. He beat up who he wanted. Luckily for Cambria Bay he wanted to beat up those who preyed on the innocent. On criminals. Robbers, rapists, bullies, etc. He wasn't pretty about it either. Hurting someone sent a message but pain fades. Devlin wanted to leave a lasting memory. He wanted them to remember the day they met him. The goal was to traumatize. No, simply causing pain wasn't enough to do that. He had to truly make them suffer. The disturbing name matched their new superhero's persona.

Devlin was not above taking a life. Hell no, Devlin would kill a guy who deserved death. No questions asked. The only problem with murder was that that gave the person the relief from the anguish. Their suffering ended as soon as their heart stopped. It's easy to kill. Devlin preferred to have them continue living in agony. Killing was a last resort.

A few feet away, a dazed rapist stumbled to his feet.

"So…you like putting your junk where it doesn't belong?"

The dark shape of Bloodrage was slowly walking toward the weakened man. "Stay away. You did your thing. You proved your point!"

"No. My thing hasn't happened yet."

"Come on! Please! Don't do this! PLEASE!" Once cackling with ill-intent, the grown man now found himself weeping and begging for his life.

"Don't do what? Huh? Don't do what?"

The man was too afraid to answer. He felt like a child who had been asked by his mother if he had stolen from her purse.

"Answer me you pathetic scumbag! Don't do what!"

The man was reduced to whimpering.

"Don't rape an unsuspecting woman!? Is that what you don't want me to do you cowardly son of a bitch!"

Now just above the man, Devlin stomped hard upon the tool with which he was going to ruin that woman's night.

The man howled in unbearable pain.

"You are a piece of dirt. You're more worthless than the trash on this street. It's animals like you that make me embarrassed, straight embarrassed to walk on this planet! There is nothing human about you."

After he had said all of this, Devlin whipped out a large combat knife. With it, he made sure that the man before him would rape no girl ever again.

Devlin had certainly made his point. The man would never forget this particular venture.

Tantrum: The Birth of Bloodrage

"Have you ever thought that maybe this whole Bloodrage thing is maybe just a desire to win all of the fights you never won as a child? To hurt all of those that hurt you back then?"

"Have I every thought about that? No. I don't know. Maybe you're right. In fact, that's pretty damned smart, I bet that's why I do it. But I don't see how knowing that would make me want to stop. By the way, I'm not Bloodrage damn it. Bloodrage is the Cambria Call's little mascot to sell more papers. It's got nothing to do with me."

"And do you really feel better after you hurt these criminals? Do you feel like you went back and won those fights? Stood up to those bullies?"

"I don't know. I don't know about all that. It gives me some sort of relief in a terrible way. I enjoy watching those people suffer. I can't stand to see bad people do bad things to good people. I can't stand it. It makes me happy to know that evil is in agony. My joy is directly dependant on their unhappiness, that's how it works. Do I feel like I've justified my past and that it was all worth it? Hell no. But it gives me some temporary relief. Not relief like an accomplished goal, relief like a harmful drug. But hell, relief is relief and I'll take it."

"Well that seems to be the key then. You're not getting any resolution from beating up criminals. We have to figure out what it is that you want. What it is that is going to give you that resolution that you're not getting right now."

Devlin laughed. "After a five year search for that crap it led me to this. This is as good as it gets."

"I don't think that's true, there's something more out there for you. You said it yourself, this is just an addiction. A temporary fix to the problem that is your life. What is your goal? What is your goal that beating up bullies is the ends to these means? What do you want from all of this?"

"What do I want?" Devlin laughed another sarcastic laugh. "Now theres the million dollar question, doc. What do I want… a new life? To be someone else? Hell you maybe…why don't we switch off for a while?"

"Now, stop see I think you're getting to something right there. I think you said it. To start over. To move somewhere far away from all of the environmental factors that anger you and to get a new start."

"Nah, it's not the environment. It's not stimuli, it's not any external factor. How do ya run away from a memory, doc? How do you leave the person that you are? I don't like what I do. I don't like the things that Devlin Mercer does! But I do it because I'm pissed. I can't stop being pissed. I can't lie to myself. I can't stop seeing the glass as half empty. Do you believe in destiny, doc?"

"Me? No, I personally do not."

"Destiny is out there. Destiny isn't some magical force. It's not God telling you what to do. It's not karma or luck or any of that shit. Destiny is genetics. Destiny is psychology. My destiny is like an express train. I see where I'm going. The tracks only go one way and I don't want to go there. I hate where I've come and I hate where I'm going."

"I think the key is learning to just…let go. You can be happy, you can get what you want. You have this undeniable sense of justice where you can't just let the world…be the world that it is. I know you, Devlin you're a pessimist. You know that the world is unfair. Yet you won't let it be unfair. You won't let it stay unfair. That's a problem. You see the world for what it really is but you can't accept it."

"You're an educated man. I know you've heard of George Orwell. George Orwell coined a word called doublethink. Doublethink, is knowing one thing to be true. Yet at the same time, knowing the exact opposite to be true as well. Can you even comprehend that idea?

This is what you're asking me to do. You're asking me to know that the world is an infuriatingly evil place….but to not care. To pretend like its not. It's easy to lie, doc. But to keep up a lie for the rest of my life? To every morning lie to myself and tell myself that the world is a place where I want to live? That's just beyond my scope of ability. I can't let go. I can't let go because I can't tell myself that this world doesn't disgust me."

"You know that none of that matters. It's irrelevant. You hate the cowardice and injustice in the world but you care nothing about the people around you. You're not a crusader for justice, Devlin. You don't pretend to be, either. At the end of the day, you're just angry. You're just angry and you don't know how to deal with it.

You're right. You can't doublethink. You can't pretend that you have something to look forward to when you really don't. Devlin, listen to me. You really need to find something to hope for."

Devlin was literally a freak of nature. There was no other way to put it. He was that one in a billion successful evolutionary mutant. Long story short, his body chemistry was messed up. He produced way too much of everything in intense moments. Most notably, he produced lots of energy. Lots of energy meant lots of heat and electrical force at his disposal. However, his body also produced way too much adrenaline. His sympathetic nervous system had exaggerated and dire effects. His heart beat too fast. Every physiological response to stress was multiplied.

It was not just heat and electricity that Devlin had control of. Another effect of his strange genetic makeup was that Devlin was much stronger. Body processes went much more rapidly when Devlin's sympathetic nervous system kicked in. This meant more oxygen into the body. With the increased oxygen intake, Devlin was able to fuel these short bursts of energy. Also, because these processes were moving at a heightened rate, that meant more and stronger muscle twitches. Bodily processes were carried out faster, which was very helpful when he was injured. Basically, Devlin's body worked in triple overtime instead of regular overtime when the "fight or flight" situation was presented.

These unique characteristics were no gift. His strength was his weakness. The tantrums ravaged Devlin's body. As unhealthy as it is for a normal person to experience heightened blood pressure, it was ten times worse for Devlin. His body was physically identical to every other human beings. It was the physiology which was unique. His skin wasn't thicker, his body no more durable. When his stress responses kicked in, his body was forced to deal with a great amount of physical stress. Devlin dug himself an early grave by utilizing the natural phenomenon. He knew it. He didn't care. He got pissed off, he punched stuff. That's how it worked. He didn't put too much stock into the future.