Mark swallowed one of the pills from the crate while the shackled man who had pointed him towards them watched from behind.
But time passed, and nothing happened.
His expression tightened.
His fists were clenched, and his breathing was heavy, like a literal starved monster.
"Where is it? Where's that feeling? That power?"
He instantly turned to the racist who had been watching him and was now laughing to himself.
"You blacks are always addicts. Crack, pussy, now these. Just wait unt-"
"FUCK YOU!"
Mark rarely swore, or even got angry for that matter, but he couldn't control himself. He ran over and kicked his head like a football with everything he had, and even without a mutation, he was still a massive, muscular man.
Crunch!
The strike swung the man's head back with a sickening sound, and he lay limp.
"Not laughing now, huh? You racist, hillbilly, inbred motherfucker!"
