Leo looked down at his trembling hands. A faint, silvery shimmer danced under his skin, like mercury flowing through his veins. It had been three weeks since the accident at the Ishida Labs. Three weeks of blackouts and waking up in craters, surrounded by the wreckage of whatever—or whoever—had crossed his path. "Hey, pal. This booth is reserved."
He picked up a stray jacket from a nearby stool, pulled the hood over his head, and stepped out into the rain. The issue wasn't that he was a monster; the issue was that the monster was the only thing keeping him alive in a world that wanted him in a cage. [S1E8] Issue #108: You Won't Like Him When He's...
"You’re leaving when I say you're leaving," Jax said, slamming a hand onto the table. The water in Leo’s glass jumped. "You look like that guy from the news. The one with the freak problem." Leo looked down at his trembling hands
Jax swung a desperate punch. His fist connected with Leo’s jaw and shattered with a sickening crack of bone against indestructible alloy. Leo didn't even flinch. He stood up, and the table beneath his elbows crumpled like tin foil. Three weeks of blackouts and waking up in
The neon sign above the "Lucky Clover" dive bar flickered with a rhythmic, dying buzz that matched the pounding in Leo’s head. Inside, the air was a thick soup of stale beer and cheap tobacco. Leo sat in the corner booth, his knuckles white as he gripped a glass of water. He wasn’t here to drink; he was here to hide.