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Chapter 4 - I Killed a Villain Because He Blocked the Left Lane

I was sitting in traffic.

Traffic.

Not a meteor swarm. Not a transdimensional rift. Just brake lights, honking, and the collective rage of a thousand miserable people who all decided today was the day they'd tailgate their way into cardiac arrest.

And here's the punchline:

There was a villain up ahead.

Not even a real one. Just some D-list wannabe in body armor, standing on top of a delivery truck and shooting fireballs at random cars like he was playing a low-budget video game.

He called himself Pyroclast.

Which sounds like a heavy metal band or a discontinued deodorant.

He was ranting about capitalism or the ozone layer or something. I wasn't listening. I was in my car. My actual car. I drove today. Thought I'd be relatable. Blend in. See what the little people deal with.

Regret. So much regret.

Some poor guy was live-streaming the attack from his Tesla two cars ahead.

"Yo, he's gonna torch the whole line!" he shouted.

I sighed. Unbuckled my seatbelt. Cracked my neck.

"Not if I get there first," I muttered.

And stepped out of my car.

---

What happened next was... brief.

I flew straight through his flaming projectile mid-rant, shoulder-checked him into the pavement like a cruise missile, and then stomped.

Once.

The crater was beautiful. Modern art, really. If modern art screamed in agony and smelled like BBQ.

The news said it was "excessive force."

But let's be real: he was blocking traffic.

And besides, I was late for a haircut.

---

A few hours later, I was back at the penthouse.

Shirtless, obviously. Still glowing from the heatwave of admiration, horror, and lust Twitter had unleashed in my name.

#JusticeDaddy was trending again.

Across the room, sprawled lazily on my bed, was Cassie—the reporter.

Wearing nothing but my button-down shirt, unbuttoned just enough to make a priest rethink his vows.

She flipped a page in one of my old comic book covers.

"Did you really kill that guy just to skip traffic?" she asked.

I took a sip of scotch and said, "No. I also hated his voice."

She giggled.

Then—boom.

Not from outside.

From inside.

My window exploded inward as a familiar red blur slammed through and landed hard.

Titania.

Hair a mess. Armor scraped. Breathing heavy. Eyes full of fury.

And jealousy.

"Out," she snapped at Cassie.

Cassie raised an eyebrow, didn't move.

"Seriously?" Titania growled. "He's not a trophy. You don't get to keep him."

Cassie stretched. "Relax. I'm not keeping him. I'm enjoying him. There's a difference."

Titania's hands balled into fists. She turned to me.

"We need to talk. Alone."

I nodded to Cassie.

"Rain check," I said.

Cassie rolled off the bed, gave Titania a wink, and sauntered out like she had nothing to prove—which, to be fair, she didn't. I watched her go, then turned back to Titania.

"You could've knocked."

> "You killed a man."

"Technically, I landed on him."

She stalked toward me, voice tight.

> "This isn't who you were. You used to inspire people. Now you're just… feared. Desired. Worshipped."

"Exactly," I said. "And you don't like that?"

"No," she said.

But the flush on her cheeks said otherwise.

"You're becoming something else," she whispered. "Something dangerous. This isn't what heroes do."

I stepped closer. She didn't move.

"Maybe I stopped being a hero the day I realized they only loved me when I bled."

She stared at me. Chest rising. Pulse visible in her throat.

"I should take you in," she said.

"You won't."

Her voice faltered. "Why not?"

I leaned in, brushed her hair back, whispered:

"Because you don't know if you want me dead… or inside you."

Her breath caught.

For a second, just one heartbeat of silence, she swayed forward.

Then—

Boom.

She shoved me back with a blast of kinetic force, panting.

"I'm not like them," she said.

"I know," I replied. "That's why you'll be the last one to fall."

She vanished in a burst of flight, the window she'd destroyed still crackling with wind.

I smiled to myself.

Because she would come back.

They all do.

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