Who: Barry and open! Where: The gym What: Using a punching bag/Almost a temper tantrum When: Backdated to Sunday Open: Yes Warnings: swearing, mentions of violence and killing in his past.
Barry's hands were sore and bandaged in places. After smashing his fists into the walls a few times, he had decided to use a proper punching bag and found the gym. Just in time too, the rage was still building inside him. He had been taken from his life, his drama class, from Sally, to a space station - a magical space station that fucked with people for fun, leaving him with no one to blame. No one to kill. Without Sally and the acting, the violence was all he had left.
Barry put on gloves to offer some protection to his hands. He started with a speed punching bag, delivering a long series of heavy punches until the bag was swinging so rapidly that he thought the chain might snap. Letting out a yell of sheer frustration, he moved onto a heavy bag and drove his fists into it, over and over. He was picturing each punch landing into the ribs and organs of Sam. It made no sense that he was there and that bastard was still back home where he could hurt Sally. He should have killed him. He deserved it. That thought brought up images of the people he'd actually killed, especially the ones that didn't deserve it.
Barry stopping hitting the bag and turned around, looking for something he could throw across the gym. It was then that he saw he wasn't alone. Fuck. He'd lost focus and not been aware of his surroundings. He dropped his hands down to his sides and hoped they'd speak first to give him a clue as to how long they'd been there and how much of his outburst they'd seen.