By the time they reached the dojo Erskine was shaking again, this time not with rage but with exhaustion and the loss of the adrenaline that had been keeping him on his feet for most of the evening. His suit was dishevelled from the few scuffles he'd been in, but aside from the odd scratch and bruise he was mostly intact.

More than he could say for the building he'd torched.

At least he was lucid again, although somehow he couldn't help but imagine how much nicer it would be to not be. To not remember the screams and the destruction, or the way he'd lost control so quickly. The rage had all drained from his eyes. In its place was guilt, the guilt that normally lurked in them but amplified.