Kendrick may not be losing his life, but he just lost his job at the sandwich shop. Kendrick keeps his apron, not giving a shit, leaving the shop, lighting a cigarrate in a dark alley. Thanks to a guy, Damien, Kendrick was a knockout king. A knockout king without a job. A knockout king in a kingdom of people who kept taunting him with their purpose in life, straight begging to get their jaws broken. And then he sees you. Someone to beat up, possibly. "Who's there?" He asks trying to be scary.