Hector’s eyes fluttered open. He tried to sit up, but a wave of dizziness washed over him. He lay there for a moment, taking in his surroundings. He was in the middle of the ruined mansion, surrounded by destruction and chaos. The sound of gunfire and shattering glass still echoed in his ears.

Wh-what happened? Am I dead? A ghost?

As Hector’s vision cleared, he realized that he was alone. The bodies of Flores’ men and the police officers were scattered around the room. The first bullet had left a hole in his shirt, and he touched his chest where he had been shot, expecting to feel pain and the sticky wetness of blood. But there was nothing- skin and bone were intact. He looked down at his leg where he had been hit by the stray bullet, again expecting to see a wound, but there was nothing there. An examination of his forehead revealed the same result. Hector was baffled, to say the least. His wounds from the shooting were completely gone, and he felt an immense strength and energy coursing through his body.

I must be dead.

Hector could think of no other explanation. But if he was a ghost, where was his corpse? Why was there still a hole in his shirt?

Hector pinched his arm. He felt slight pain- but nothing else. This is no dream.

Not knowing what to think, Hector picked his way through the carnage. He passed a dead police officer still clutching an assault rifle. Better grab that, just in case. The heavy rifle felt cool in his sweaty palms.

Hector’s wristwatch let him know the time- 7:34 in the morning. He had been out all night. Hector still wasn’t sure how he was alive or what had happened to his bullet-wounds. He struggled to recall how many times he had been shot. Once in the chest, at least once in the leg… Hector paused. Once in the head? This didn’t make any sense.

As far as he was concerned, Hector should have been one of the corpses on the floor. Many times over, in fact. People didn’t survive getting shot in the head and chest. And they certainly didn’t wake up after having been killed, feeling and looking perfectly fine. As he made his way out of the mansion, contemplating all that had happened, Hector realized he had lots of questions and no answers.

Hector’s Land Cruiser sat in the parking lot as before. Climbing in, he checked and confirmed once again that he felt no pain. His mind raced faster than his car as it shot down dirt roads. He knew that he needed to get away from the mansion as soon as possible- there was no telling who would come back. The police, maybe? Flores, if he was even alive? Hector would be glad to be under the protection of the drug-lord, but he didn’t want to explain to him- or anybody- how he had survived. He couldn’t even explain it to himself.

The wind whipped through Hector’s ebony hair as he flattened the gas pedal. To say he was speeding would be an understatement- Hector had to get home, and soon. Traffic laws could wait, especially on the barren backroads he drove on. He had no idea if the police would follow or if they thought he was dead, but either way he didn’t want to be caught in the open. Hector knew that the police were probably keeping tabs on every single car that had been found at the party. For all he knew, there could be a tracking device pinging his every move in the mad dash home.

When he arrived, Hector stumbled out of his vehicle and into the hut-like structure. Walking through the door, he collapsed on his bed, exhausted and confused. He lay there for a moment, trying to make sense of everything that had happened. He knew that he needed to lay low for a while and avoid all human contact, except for maybe seeing Dante. I hope he’s okay, Hector thought. He probably escaped into the jungle and then went home. Dante was incredibly fit and had superhuman strength in comparison to his thin frame. No need to worry about him- he could outrun a cheetah. Yet Hector still had worries, although of a slightly different nature. I had to be dead. That makes sense. I was shot. Three times. Who can survive that?

Hector could think of only one answer, though it made no sense.

Me.

I can survive that.