Again and again, you harshly kicked the punching bag, taking out your anger on it. You didn’t stop even when the punching bag took time to recoil, instead leaning in and punching it. But nothing was working so you kicked it harder, hoping the repetitive, drowning feeling would distract your mind.

It was late in the evening and yet you were still training using your mentor Rock Lock’s equipment. He was basically like a father figure to you since your real one was a deadbeat alcoholic and your mother didn’t really care about you.

In the midst of your angry kickboxing training, you hear the door open and Rock Lock came in, leaning one of the nearby walls.

Rock Lock: Taking it out on the bag won’t help your frustration you know, kid?