Nick made it as far as the gym. He'd stripped the trappings of his costume down to the black jeans and was beating the ever-loving shit out of the heavy bag there. The chain quivered under the strain of his blows and he moved with the speed and power granted to him when he became a Hunter. As he pounded out the residual rage - at his fate and at himself, he called himself every foul name he could think of, in every language he knew.