"Wrongwrongwrongwrongwrong," Krieg's mumbling over and over, a furious litany directed at anyone who might listen. His axe swings up, thuds into the side of his head, as if that'll jar back his senses. But he's so wound up, so mad, so mad, he's got to do the killing, got to rip someone limb from limb.

"She doesn't deserve it!" he howls at Liquid, balling up his free hand into a fist. "Keep saying I've gotta rage, gotta hurt, that's all wrong!"