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His therapist says he needs to get back into this society. Go to things normal people go to, get some friends, get a life partner, get a job.
He sorted out the last bit. His old gang called him back, the underground world needs someone with his skills.
He has an idea of what normal people go to. They go to the park, they go to the mall, they go to the bar, they go to the theater. He’s done all of those except for the last one before the war, or before he had to skip town. He decided to try the last one this time around.
He has always regarded this theater going thing as something for the tourists. But this time, after looking into what is available, he realizes besides all those marquee names the world know, actually those streets have way more to offer.
Such as this new show in this dump of a theater. Critics rave about the performance, about how edgy the show is, about how it is the beginning of a true revolution to the theater business. They have given all the possible compliments to the playwrite-director, Ben Solo.
He decides this is what he would try.
But before the show, he has a job to finish. New bosses expanded their territories, but luckily this job is in the adjacent neighborhood.
It should’ve been an easy job. But shits always hit the fan when you least expect it. A simple bullet in the head turns into a fist fight and tussling on the ground and tumbling through the doorway and rolling down the stairs.
Before either of them could get to their feet, he hears footsteps from floors above, walking down. Both rush to stand up, knives drawn from the belts or boots, digging in for a second round.
“Oh my god!!!” The man the footsteps belong to has just reached the same floor.
His target tries to turn and run upwards the guy. He grabs his target, turns them around, and slams him into the wall.
“Stay behind me.” He shouts to the guy walking down.
His one hand restrains the target’s knife holding hand, other arm chokes at the target’s throat with his knife slowly going into the targets shoulder.
In a minute, the target passes out, knife dropped to the floor.
“That was quite a fight. Maybe I can reenact on the stage one day.”
He turns around, a hand is reached out to him.
“Ben Solo. Thanks.” That name he’s heard of.
“Armitage Hux. I’m going to your show later. But if you don’t mind, I have some business to take care of now.” They shake hands.
“Why don’t you eh… come to the backstage afterwards… if you want?”
“Pleasure. See you later. Break a leg.”
After seeing Ben off, Armitage drags the unconscious target back to his room, finishes the job, and literally breaks his legs, every other joints in the body, and most importantly of them all, both lungs.