- some sort of time skip -
After having fled the mall, Hunter had taken it upon himself to move on. For one, it was stupid to stay in the same place unless one was hiding. Of course, he hated hiding, and there was no way he was going to do that. Likely they'd catch him later in the evening, and he'd beat up a couple of the cops before he allowed them to detain him. Of course, he'd only stay the night at their station before breaking out and beginning the cycle again. He hated the whole thing, it really pissed him off.
Currently, he was sitting in some sort of park, he didn't pay attention to which one. People were out walking dogs, eating ice cream, having fun. He hated that. How could people be so carefree when the world was so awful? It just didn't make sense. It also wasn't fair. Why should they be happy, why should they be content, when he was forced to suffer. Life gave him lemons, and he took those lemons and squeezed them in people's eyes. He was about to go into thinking on how to create lemon grenades, but his thought process was interrupted when a Frisbee hit his head. The round object bounced off his head and hit the floor, and a group of kids came running after it. Too bad for them, they threw it in just the wrong direction.
"Mister, are you alright?"
Hunter didn't even hear their words. He was seeing red, his anger rising to near visible levels. He turned to look in their direction, his red eyes coupled with his shadowed face created an incredibly menacing appearance that caused them to back away. His hands, gripped the edge of the bench he was sitting on, and had already began to bend the metal. By then, some of the other people began to notice this rather unstable person, their concern growing for the children.
Standing up, Hunter turned towards the children, towering over them.
"Alright? I am not ... alright" He growled, as a man tried to grab his shoulder to pull him away from the children. The foolish man was punched across the field and into a tree. While he was focused on the man who had come from behind him, the children took the opportunity to flee. Like a predator, his attention switched back to them. Grabbing the Frisbee they had thrown at him, he examined it. His hand turned into a mechanical form, and he used it to cut the edge so it was sharp. Once done, he flung it at the children at a deadly speed. Little brats had better learn that this world could kill, and that those who were fortunate should damn grateful for it.