Rage stalked through the crumbling ruins of the old city, his every move fluid and graceful as he slid among the rubble. Though he moved from shadow to shadow the White Tiger was not going for stealth, it was just habit. The ground behind him was paved in a path of ice made easier by the rainfall not long ago. His powers required no conduit, no payment in which he must sacrifice and thus was virtually limitless in how often he could use it. The only payment Rage had offered was his humanity in its entirety. No longer could he be a husband or a father living a normal life, that was taken from him. Now he is simply a weapon. A physical manifestation of his namesake and most predominant emotion. Rage. 

Abandoned, rusting cars greeted him eerily on the streets as he passed by and their windows iced over at his passing. His world was a cold and lonely one. Humans were the enemy and he killed them remorselessly and Hybrids, his supposed people, mostly avoided him. He pulled his hood back as he walked, showing his strong feline features coated in white fur with black stripes. Rage was on the hunt now, sniffing the air as he went and looking for signs of humans.