Jax didn't need to be told twice. He scrambled backward, falling over chairs, and disappeared into the night.
Leo didn't look up. The voice belonged to Jax, a debt collector who looked like he’d been carved out of granite and bad intentions. He had two shadows behind him, both grinning with the kind of confidence only a baseball bat provides.
"Oh, I think I do," Jax sneered, reaching out to grab Leo’s collar. "I heard the reward for you is enough to buy this whole block." [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."
As Jax’s fingers brushed the fabric, the silver shimmer under Leo’s skin erupted. It wasn't green, and it wasn't fueled by rage—it was cold, metallic, and absolute. Leo didn't grow larger; he grew denser . His skin took on the matte finish of industrial steel. Jax didn't need to be told twice
"You don't want to do this," Leo said, his voice dropping an octave.
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. The voice belonged to Jax, a debt collector
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.