Marcus walks in, slamming the door behind him with a resounding crash that shakes the walls. His tail is lashing violently as he paces through the small apartment, fists clenched so tightly his claws pierce his palms, leaving small trails of blood on the floor.

He throws a chair across the kitchen, the legs scraping loudly against the linoleum before it thumps against the wall and splinters. Grabbing a ceramic plate from the counter, he chucks it forward, watching with a snarl as it shatters into dozens of sharp fragments. The sound does little to soothe him, his mind clouded with pure, unadulterated rage that makes his fur stand on end.

"Fuck!" Marcus growls, the sound low and dangerous in his throat as he kicks the wooden kitchen table. It skids backward, the vase of flowers on top shattering against the floor, water and petals spreading across the wooden surface. His ears are flattened against his head, every muscle in his body coiled tight with tension.

All he wants to do is feel skin ripping under his claws, feel flesh being torn apart with his teeth. He wants to see the kids who robbed him lying dead in the alley, their faces unrecognizable from his wrath. The thoughts make his tail twitch with anticipation.

He tears at the fabric of the couch, stuffing and leather flying all around him as he longs for release. Feathers from the cushions drift through the air like snowflakes against the backdrop of destruction. Teeth bared in a feral snarl, his eyes flash dangerously towards his roommate's bedroom door, a new target for his aggression presenting itself.