Carl, a tormented outcast facing relentless bullying and neglect from those closest to him, meets a tragic end in a car accident. But his journey is far from over. A celestial being appears in the afterlife, offering Carl a chance to be reborn in a...
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Mark applied all his strength, repeatedly slamming his body into the door. Finally, with a resounding crash, it gave way, splintered wood scattering across the floor. He stepped through the wreckage, his gaze falling upon the terrified mother and her two children sitting in the corner, their wide eyes reflecting their fear.
With urgency, Mark's voice echoed through a walkie-talkie, a mixture of frustration and impatience in his tone, "Jordan, can you hear me? Why do you need me to come over there?"
From the shadows in the distance, a voice emerged, dripping with challenge and confidence. "You don't have to go over there, because I'm the one you're about to confront," Carl's voice declared.
Startled, Mark turned, seeking the source of the voice, yet finding no one in sight. He responded with a mix of confusion and defiance, his voice raised, "Whoever you are, you could have chosen to flee. Instead, you've opted to stay and challenge me? Spare me the theatrics, kid. Save yourself and get out of here. Otherwise, you'll meet a gruesome end like the others."
In an instant, Carl emerged before Mark. He met Mark's gaze squarely, his demeanor showing no sign of fear. Mark's eyes widened, sweat glistening on his forehead. However, Carl's gaze remained unflinching as he spoke, his voice steady and determined, "Now, do you know who I am?"
Mark's voice carried his disbelief, "It's impossible. I saw you die. How can you be alive?"
Carl's response carried unshakable resolve, his voice unwavering, "Thanks to Jason, I'm alive. But unfortunately, he paid the price for your actions. And now, I won't leave until I kill you."
Mark's racing heart began to steady as he took off his mask. He looked at Carl, his expression a mix of relief and curiosity. "So, I guess I didn't need to wear this anymore. But what I didn't understand is how you recognized it was me."
Carl's finger extended, pointing towards the scar on Mark's hand. His voice held an edge of triumph as he explained, "That mark on your hand, the one I gave you, because of it I found out it was you."
Mark attempted a forced smile, his unease lingering beneath the surface. "Impressive," he admitted with a hint of sarcasm. "But now, what do you want to do to me? Planning to kill me, right? But how do you plan on doing that? Last time I checked, I'm the one holding the gun here."
Carl's laughter filled the tense air, an unsettling contrast to the situation. Mark's eyebrows furrowed in confusion, his patience wearing thin. "Why are you laughing? What's so damn funny about what I just said?"
Carl met Mark's gaze with an unyielding stare, his amusement fading into seriousness. "Isn't it obvious? Without that gun in your hand, you're not much of a threat, are you? Just leave your gun and then see how people like me may make you pay for all deeds."
Mark's patience wore thin, his fingers tightening around the gun's triggers, his voice laced with frustration. "Don't play games with me, kid. Your words won't make me drop this gun."
Carl's tone turned more somber. "It's the truth. You could shoot me if you wanted, but even after I left that scar on your bloody face and hand, you still didn't want to lay a finger on me, let alone kick me. Maybe you didn't even have the courage to fight a kid with your bare hands. It shows how much of a scared puppy you really are."
Mark's irritation burned brighter, and with a frustrated grunt, he flung the gun to the side, its clatter echoing in the room. "Fine, just like you wanted. I'll fight you with my bare hands. I'll break every damn bone in your body and make you beg for mercy before I end you, kid."
Carl smiled knowingly, his eagerness evident as he assumed a fighting stance, ready for combat. "Can't wait," he replied, his confidence unwavering.
