Aftermath of the virus; Action spam!
Xanxus threw the glass he had been drinking from with a vicious snarl. He had been fine when he woke up, and then the memories hit him. He couldn't believe it at first, he had been happy at such thoughts. Then he realized something else... It had been fake. It had all been so fucking FAKE. Logically, Xanxus should not be shocked at the cruelty of the community. He should have processed and accepted what had happened just like every other damn virus. It wasn't the first time, and this sure as hell wouldn't be the last.
But the whole thing.... it burned him. It wasn't right to tease and taunt him with that.
'He had been king. He had the Vongola in the palm of his hands, he had the god damn world and now it was gone.' It was all just GONE. Xanxus screamed out in pure rage, the bright light of his flames roaring to life with his anger. He slammed a fist down into his desk, not caring as the expensive wood exploded into millions of sharps beneath him.
It didn't matter, because he was nothing after all. He wasn't the god damn Decimo, he wasn't worth SHIT. He didn't have happiness at all, not like that fake him did. Nothing mattered, nothing fucking mattered. He bodily lifted the desk fragments that hadn't become splinters and tossed them from the window, and through the walls. He couldn't bother to control the pure explosive fury raging inside of him, or the flame pulsating and growing so strong. He slammed fists of pure flame into everything and anything that was surrounding him, not caring when shards sliced through his exposed skin.
His office was in full decay in less than five minutes, and yet it wasn't enough. Xanxus could still feel everything. he needed to destroy, destroy, kill and eradicate everything that reminded him of his failure. Nothing would exist to mock him, no one would stand to see his shame. The roar of pure ungodly anger seemed to echo throughout the area as xanxus continued his rampage, destroying and ruining everything that came into his path.
The trash that tried to get in his way or weren't fast enough to escape were dealt with without a second glance. He ended up in one of the larger parlor rooms eventually, panting and growling from exertion on his quest. His rage was no where near gone, but his energy and body needed a moment's rest.
He was in the calm of his storm, standing silently surrounded by glittering glass from having smashed every window. He could do nothing but stand and glare at the moment, seemingly just waiting for something to trigger him back into the hell storm.
But the whole thing.... it burned him. It wasn't right to tease and taunt him with that.
'He had been king. He had the Vongola in the palm of his hands, he had the god damn world and now it was gone.' It was all just GONE. Xanxus screamed out in pure rage, the bright light of his flames roaring to life with his anger. He slammed a fist down into his desk, not caring as the expensive wood exploded into millions of sharps beneath him.
It didn't matter, because he was nothing after all. He wasn't the god damn Decimo, he wasn't worth SHIT. He didn't have happiness at all, not like that fake him did. Nothing mattered, nothing fucking mattered. He bodily lifted the desk fragments that hadn't become splinters and tossed them from the window, and through the walls. He couldn't bother to control the pure explosive fury raging inside of him, or the flame pulsating and growing so strong. He slammed fists of pure flame into everything and anything that was surrounding him, not caring when shards sliced through his exposed skin.
His office was in full decay in less than five minutes, and yet it wasn't enough. Xanxus could still feel everything. he needed to destroy, destroy, kill and eradicate everything that reminded him of his failure. Nothing would exist to mock him, no one would stand to see his shame. The roar of pure ungodly anger seemed to echo throughout the area as xanxus continued his rampage, destroying and ruining everything that came into his path.
The trash that tried to get in his way or weren't fast enough to escape were dealt with without a second glance. He ended up in one of the larger parlor rooms eventually, panting and growling from exertion on his quest. His rage was no where near gone, but his energy and body needed a moment's rest.
He was in the calm of his storm, standing silently surrounded by glittering glass from having smashed every window. He could do nothing but stand and glare at the moment, seemingly just waiting for something to trigger him back into the hell storm.