"Shet, Omega, Steve—did you just f*****g pee yourself?"
"Shut the hell up."
"No, seriously. You're washing my car after this. I ain't touching that seat."
"It's Floyd's fault! That woman nearly killed us with just one look!"
"What kind of monster even is she?"
"Gotta be a killer. No way someone like that isn't dangerous. My cousin's in the Black Wolf Gang, and he gets that same look when he's mad."
Steve tried to sound confident, though everyone knew his cousin was just a low-level enforcer in some petty street gang. Still, no one argued.
They'd all felt it—that crushing, soul-splitting pressure. It hadn't just been fear. It was death staring them in the face.
"We really tried to flirt with a killer," the driver muttered, his knuckles white on the steering wheel. "Jesus. We almost died over some stupid lines."
The guy in the passenger seat—Floyd, the first to notice Bella—sighed dreamily, despite his still-shaking hands. "I mean… she was beautiful, though. You gotta admit that."
There was a pause.
"I ain't even gonna lie. Drop-dead gorgeous," another added, smacking his lips. "Literally drop dead."
All of them nodded in agreement, even as they silently prayed never to run into her again.
Back in her own lane, Bella had already forgotten the incident. She'd taught them a small lesson—a sharp look, a wave of killing intent. They'd remember it for months. Nightmares were guaranteed.
If they had the mental toughness to shrug it off, great. But if not? Well, mental breakdowns or hospitalization wasn't out of the question.
Bella didn't feel even a speck of guilt.
They were clearly sizing her up for trouble. The moment she heard the words "hang out" and "bar," she knew where that conversation was going. That kind of casual predatory intent was more than enough to earn a hundred deaths in her book.
Honestly, she'd been merciful.
Had they crossed paths somewhere darker, somewhere without witnesses or cameras, she wouldn't have stopped at a warning. She would've erased them—car and all—from the face of the earth.
Back home, she parked in the garage, grabbed her cheesecake box from the passenger seat, and headed inside.
Her apartment was a cozy mix of elegance and comfort. And waiting at the door—purring and pawing at her boots—was a big blue, chubby cat.
"Rua, you needy potato," Bella muttered, stooping to rub behind its ears.
The cat purred like a motor.
She walked straight to the fridge and placed the cake inside. "Saving this for when Angie gets back," she said to the cat. "You know how she gets if I eat without her."
Food, in Angie's world, was a sacred event. Sharing was mandatory. Stealing a bite? Treason.
Bella grabbed a box of ice cream, sauntered over to the living room, and collapsed onto the sofa with Rua curling up beside her. She switched on the TV, spoon in hand.
"TV first, dinner later," she mumbled to herself. "Angie should be back from school soon."
It was the perfect plan.
She grinned and gave herself an imaginary thumbs-up. A reward for surviving another day without leveling a city.
With the creamy goodness of vanilla ice cream melting in her mouth, life felt peacefully mundane. That was, until Rua started meowing incessantly, his big round eyes locked on the ice cream cup.
Bella raised an eyebrow. "Don't even think about it."
Rua meowed louder.
"No. You already pulled that stunt with Angie last week. She snuck you some, and you ended up in the vet's office."
The cat looked up, pitifully.
"You're not getting any. You're fat, Rua."
She poked his round little head with a perfectly manicured finger.
Rua, unfazed by the accusation, flopped onto his back and revealed his soft belly.
Bella's willpower crumbled.
"You shameless furball."
Rolling her eyes, she set the empty ice cream cup on the table and began scratching Rua's belly. The cat purred louder, eyes closing in bliss.
"You're lucky you're cute," she muttered, continuing the massage with practiced ease. The rhythm of her fingers was smooth and calculated—clearly the work of an expert.
And then the TV caught her attention.
"CAA now bringing breaking news—"
"At 4:50 PM today, a massive shootout broke out in Hell's Kitchen. Police reports indicate nearly 1,000 individuals were involved."
"Preliminary reports list over 300 dead, and more than 400 firearms recovered."
"Police Chief George commented in a press release..."
Bella's fingers froze mid-scratch.
Hell's Kitchen again?
"In other news, the Monaco F1 Grand Prix has officially begun, with billionaire Tony Stark expected to make an appearance..."
"Elsewhere, one of the Life Foundation's experimental crafts has crashed in East Malaysia. No formal response has yet been issued by the company."
Monaco. Life Foundation.
Bella leaned back, brow furrowed.
The Life Foundation. She remembered that name. It was them. The symbiotes had finally arrived.
In her previous life, she had read about them. Alien parasites capable of bonding to human hosts, copying their abilities, and completely altering their physiology. The power boost was tremendous—even an ordinary man could become a monster.
They were fascinating, in a horrifying kind of way.
Bella was briefly tempted.
Wouldn't it be fun to keep one? Like a pet, maybe?
But the idea quickly faded. The symbiotes were ruthless. Unstable. They treated humans like hosts... or food.
Bella herself wouldn't have a problem. If a symbiote tried to bond with her, her body would incinerate it with magic before it even got close. High temperatures and sonic frequencies were their weaknesses—and Bella's magic could simulate both.
No, the real issue was Angie.
Bella sighed. "Too dangerous."
She wasn't afraid for herself. But Angie was soft. Naive. Vulnerable to manipulation. And Bella would rather kill a symbiote than risk it sniffing around her little sister.
Besides, the whole situation was happening in East Malaysia. She wasn't about to fly halfway across the world to play zookeeper for alien slimes.
Let the world deal with it.
If things escalated into an invasion? Well, then she'd intervene. Until then, she wasn't interested.
And if Earth ever gets overwhelmed by symbiotes...
Bella smirked.
There's always Galactus' daughter.
That cosmic glutton, Ganata, loved eating exotic alien species. If anyone could clean up a symbiote infestation, it was her.
Earth had its hidden trump cards. Bella wasn't the only god-tier wildcard in play.
So she dismissed the thought.
With a final scratch to Rua's belly, she curled up more comfortably on the couch, the news channel forgotten.
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