His knuckles hurt. He never threw fisted punches, not even when he was at the height of using his Venusian akido to get what he wanted. He certainly never threw punches at the people he cared about.

Anger was gone, replaced entirely by anguish. He was out of control. He was out of control and he would hurt someone. He might not be able to kill Jack, but if he got on that anger bent again, he could do far worse than those government agents did.

He fell backwards with the push, his shoulder smacking hard into the wall. He thought he felt a crack, but the bone didn't feel broken. Bruised at the worst, but he deserved to be hurt. He deserved it and---

No. No, no. He was falling into this. He was letting it take him over. He was letting it take him over and he had to stop.

"Jack--" he tried to speak, but his voice came out hollow and aching.