Buzz. Buzz.
Leo's phone vibrated in his pocket. He glanced at the screen and hissed. "Tch. That fat cow again," he muttered, jamming it back without answering. Madam Tracy. His boss.
"I can't believe I kissed that fat thing… what the fuck was I thinking?" he grumbled, raking a hand through his messy hair. The memory of her soft, sweaty body and the look on her blushing face made his stomach churn. Yeah, she liked him—no doubt about that. That was the only reason he hadn't been fired yet. He skipped work like it was a hobby, sometimes disappearing for a full week. But one flirty smirk, one stupid compliment about her "cute cheeks," and she'd melt right in front of him.
What a joke.
If only she knew what was coming, Leo thought darkly. If she saw the future like he had, she wouldn't be begging to ride his cock—she'd be running for her damn life. "Should I tell her some hungry mutant's gonna chow down on her thick thighs right inside that office of hers?" he snorted to himself. "Nah. She'll probably think I'm high or losing it."
He leaned back on the wooden bench, the rough paint scratching at his skin through his shirt. The air was chilly, thick with the city's usual stench—cheap perfume, car smoke, and spilled beer. The outdoor bar he'd picked wasn't much. Just a hidden corner behind a run-down liquor store on the east side of Los Angeles, where broken neon signs flickered and music played low from a dusty speaker. It was 7PM. And still no sign of Tony.
"Where the fuck is this bastard?" Leo muttered under his breath.
His phone buzzed again. A notification popped up:
You have successfully cancelled your order for the Chevrolet Spark. Funds have been refunded to your account.
A smirk spread across Leo's face.
"Nice. Money's back in the bank… let's see if I can bribe this fucker now," he said, stuffing his phone away. "But I need to act smooth—make sure he doesn't smell the trap."
He leaned forward, elbows on knees, eyes scanning the dim street ahead. "Tonight better go well," he whispered. "'Cause tomorrow… everything changes."
Just then, Tony showed up.
His eyes moved fast, scanning the open-air bar like he was searching for something—or someone. Leo already knew who.
"Where's your girlfriend?" Tony asked, voice casual, but that usual hunger sitting behind his smile.
The question made Leo's grip tighten around the half-empty beer bottle. For a second, he imagined smashing it over Tony's smug face. But instead, he forced a soft grin, hiding the storm behind his eyes.
"Come on, man. Sit your ass down first before asking for Sarah," Leo said, patting the metal chair across from him.
Tony raised a brow, a little suspicious, but didn't argue. He sat down, the chair creaking under him.
A brief silence passed, thick and awkward. The bar's low music blended with the background hum of cars and late-night chatter.
"So," Tony finally said, "why the sudden urge to have a drink with me?"
Leo stared at him for a beat. Because I want to become a supe and kill you in the most painful way possible, he answered in his mind. But out loud, he lowered his head, let out a shaky sigh, and softened his voice.
"It's Sarah, man…"
Tony straightened in his seat, suddenly alert. "What happened to her?"
"I can't take it anymore," Leo whispered, pretending to struggle with the words. "It's too much."
Tony leaned closer, eyes narrowing. "Come on, talk to me. What's going on?"
"She's cheating on me," Leo said, a fake sob escaping his lips. He wiped his face, making sure to keep up the act. His white hair slipped forward, partly hiding his expression.
Tony exhaled, sitting back. "Damn. Did you catch her in the act?"
Leo raised his head slightly, locking eyes with him. "If I did, I would've just fucking killed myself."
"Shit. I'm sorry, man," Tony said. "But you know how it is—women will cheat on you if you can't provide everything they want. You can't expect her to be loyal if you can't buy her the things she desires."
Leo clenched his jaw, eyes flashing, but kept his face hidden. You son of a bitch, he thought, you think you deserve her.
"I just wanna get out of here," Leo said after a pause. "Maybe leave town for a while."
Tony nodded slowly. "Well, I'll be traveling to Kauai, Hawaii. My mum's been sick, and I need to visit her. It's a short flight. If you want to cool off and disappear for a bit, you can come with me."
Leo fought the twisted grin tugging at his lips. This was it—the opening he'd been waiting for. But he kept the act going, sniffing and nodding, looking every bit the broken boyfriend.
Tony reached out and patted his back. "It's gonna be okay, bro. You'll bounce back."
Yeah, Leo thought. But you won't.
Because you won't be coming back alive.
"Sarah must be heartless doing this to you," Tony added with a fake frown. "But bro, trust me—it's for the better. That bitch doesn't deserve you. Just forget her."
Leonard clenched his jaw, his grip tightening beneath the table. His smile stayed, but inside, he was boiling. He remembered everything. The betrayal. The death. The second chance he never asked for. His anger burned hotter every time Tony opened his mouth like he actually gave a damn.
Three Months Before Leo's Death ...
Back in his past life, after the meteor crash, Tony's plane had gone down somewhere near a remote island. Leo had actually been worried. Even hoped the guy made it out alive. That's how stupid he used to be.
A week passed. No updates. No survivors. Just silence.
Then came the night at the amusement park—one of the last happy memories he had with Sarah before everything turned to shit. They had finally made time to go, riding roller coasters, eating cheap popcorn, laughing like a real couple. Leo even bought her cotton candy and let her win at one of those rigged shooting booths. For a moment, it felt real. Like she actually loved him.
The air was thick with sugary smells, laughter, and the sound of metal grinding as rides whooshed above. Neon lights flashed over their faces as they walked hand in hand, trying to soak up every second.
Then it happened.
A guy walked past them. Loose beach shirt, faded floral print, a pair of tan shorts, and a leather boots—like someone who came straight off a beach trip. But it wasn't the clothes that caught Leo's eye.
It was the face.
It looked… familiar. Too familiar. Leo's steps slowed, his eyes locked on the man's back.
Sarah noticed. "Leo? What's wrong?"
He didn't answer. Just raised a hand gently to silence her, his full attention on the guy. They began tailing him slowly, weaving through the crowd. The man finally stopped near a dark corner behind the arcade.
"Ella," he called.
A girl turned. She was locked in a heated make-out session with some dude in a hoodie. The guy had one hand halfway down her unbuttoned jeans, fingers clearly working their way to a happy ending while their mouths stayed glued together.
They didn't even notice the man standing there.
For a full ten seconds, he just stared at them. Then Ella froze—her body stiffening like she'd just seen a ghost. She pushed the other guy off, her eyes wide in shock as her face turned pale.
"Babe… what the fuck? When did you get back?" she stammered. Her voice was shaking. "I—I thought you were dead. The news said the plane crashed. They haven't found anyone…"
The guy in the vintage shirt looked shattered. "So this is how you repay me? After everything I've done for you? You move on with a fucking nobody?"
That was when the hoodie guy stood up, zipping himself calmly. "Hey, fuck off," he said coldly. "You heard her—you're dead to her. We were in the middle of something before your ghost ass showed up."
Leo's heart dropped.
Now he remembered. That guy—he had seen him before. Tony had posted a video on Instagram from the plane, and this beach-shirt stranger had been his seatmate.
Oh shit, Leo muttered under his breath. He survived the crash..
The next moment was a blur.
The man in vintage didn't walk. He floated. In the blink of an eye, he was standing right in front of the hoodie guy. No sound. No warning. Like gravity no longer applied to him.
"What the fuck… what are you?" Hoodie Guy backed up, his voice cracking with fear.
The man didn't reply. He grabbed him by the neck with one hand, lifting him clean off the ground like he weighed nothing.
Ella dropped to the ground, hands shaking as she covered her mouth in fear.
Leo and Sarah stood frozen at a corner nearby. Leo's grip wrapped tight around her arm. She was about to scream, but he clamped a hand over her mouth, whispering, "Don't. Move."
The man in vintage looked up at the guy he was holding—legs dangling, eyes wide with panic.
"You know what the difference is between you and me?" he said with a chilling calm. "You fall for pussy. But I can fly in the fucking sky."
And with that, he flew into the air—dragging the man up with him—and let go.
The body dropped.
CRACK.
It hit the pavement harder than a bag of bricks. His skull split open on impact, blood bursting like a smashed watermelon.
Ella screamed louder.
Sarah's eyes widened in horror, but Leo's hand stayed firm over her mouth.
The man in the vintage shirt hovered midair for a second, eyes locked on the trembling Ella who was still on her knees—crying, shaking, and soaked in fear.
Then he dropped.
His boots crashed down on her skull with a sickening crunch before her scream could fully leave her throat.
THUD. THUD.
He didn't stop. He kept stomping—again and again—until her head was nothing but a ruined mess of bone, brain, and blood.
Crimson splashed across the pavement. Her twitching body finally went limp.
Leo couldn't hold it anymore. His stomach turned. He staggered backward and vomited on the concrete, the sound loud and messy, drawing attention.
The man in vintage turned sharply, blood dripping from his boots.
His cold gaze landed in their direction.
Shit.
Leo's body tensed. He pulled Sarah close, dragging her behind a thick column near the arcade entrance. She was shaking like crazy, her breathing shallow. Leo pressed her mouth shut with his palm again, heart pounding in his chest like a war drum.
The man began walking toward them.
Slow steps.
Measured.
Each one echoed like a countdown.
He wasn't rushing.
He didn't need to.
Because whoever he wanted… never got away.
Then—
The footsteps stopped.