Matt could feel the crunch of breaking bones and squish of burst blood vessels under his fists as they flew at the prone figure in front of him quickly and without mercy. "Please," the man had begged, "I have a family." But Matt couldn't stop. He could never stop. The rage had overtaken him. The devil had been let loose and Matt refused to fight it anymore.
A man had grabbed him from behind, and he'd slammed the unknown assailant's head into the brick wall efficiently, something inside him humming with joy as he heard the solid thunk of skull hitting stone and sensed the brain matter oozing out.
As more men came at him, he took them all on with deadly precision and manic glee, reveling in how quickly they fell and how powerful it made him feel. It was only when they were all dead at his feet and he had a moment to reflect that he suddenly came back to himself and realized what he had done.
Someone touched his arm and without thinking he heaved the person up by their neck, choking the life out of them and listening to them gurgle. "M...att... ple...please," he heard the voice say and the tone reverberated in his subconscious, finally truly snapping him out of his rage.
"Foggy?" he asked, and he threw the man down onto the pavement. He landed in a pool of blood, half on top of a body.
Foggy held his neck, feeling the bruises forming, and looked up at the man who he had thought was his friend, then around at the carnage underneath him.
"Foggy, I-" Matt said, and Foggy wasn't sure if the look on the man's face was one of heartbreak because he just realized what he had done, or if it was confusion at why Foggy was there. He only knew that he didn't want to find out. He never wanted to find out. So he ran. And the devil let him.