"One last request... For the sake of everything I've done for the family, spare my wife and daughter, and let my brothers continue serving the family."
After all his years of loyalty to the family, Leon understood the possibility of what Chebel had described.
It was true: his subordinates had always hoped he would take over the Chebel family, urging him multiple times to rename it the Leon family.
At this moment, however, Leon had no complaints. Instead, he knelt before Chebel, bowing his head in a desperate plea.
But Chebel heartlessly shook his head once more.
"Leon, I once heard something from a Chinese man I killed, and I've always thought it made sense: 'If you don't uproot the grass, it will grow again when the spring wind blows.'
"For my son to smoothly inherit the empire I've built, there cannot be even the slightest potential threat."
"I'll kill you!"
Leon mustered all his remaining strength and suddenly lunged at Chebel, but one of Chebel's burly bodyguards intercepted him with a single kick.
Under normal circumstances, Leon wouldn't have been so weak, but his body was already covered in wounds.
"Leon, don't resist anymore. Accept your fate. I'll personally take care of your wife and daughter.
"Maybe you'll reunite with them in heaven. No, wait—people like us are bound for hell, so you probably won't meet again."
The bodyguard stepped on Leon, sneering as he drew his pistol and aimed it at Leon's head.
Leon, lying helplessly on the ground, roared in fury:
"Chebel! I regret not listening to my brothers. If there is a hell, I swear I'll crawl out of it and drag you and your son down with me!
"If there are demons in hell, I will trade my soul to escape and take revenge!"
"Too bad," Chebel said dismissively. "There's no hell, nor are there demons. Otherwise, I should've died countless times already, given how much blood I've spilled.
"Reality is cruel. Only people like me get to enjoy wealth and power, and my children will inherit it all."
Chebel paid no heed to Leon's curse—he'd heard such words too many times before.
But just then, a voice full of amusement rang out from above the rooftop water tank.
"I'm not a demon, nor do I want your soul. But if you're willing to cooperate with me, I can help you achieve your revenge."
Everyone turned to the water tank, where a mysterious figure stood, cloaked in a robe and wearing a mask resembling the Grim Reaper.
"Who's this guy? Kill him!"
Chebel narrowed his eyes and gave the order immediately.
The dozen or so men guarding him quickly drew their pistols, aiming to kill the intruder on the spot.
Yet, as soon as they aimed, their weapons inexplicably flew out of their hands, suspended mid-air by an unseen force, now pointed back at their own heads.
"I suggest you don't move," the masked man said calmly, "or I can't guarantee the guns won't go off."
The figure descended step by step, as though walking on air, until he stood before the wounded and powerless Leon, looking down at him.
"Your answer?"
Indeed, Leon was the proxy George had been eyeing for some time.
If Leon could take over the Chebel family, he would become one of the most powerful figures in the Bronx's underworld, making it easy to purchase Stark Industries stock without arousing suspicion.
If Leon consolidated the remaining twelve families, he could legitimately expand his influence. With such vast territory, Leon wouldn't be able to flee with his wife and daughter, ensuring long-term collaboration.
Leon could also help with intelligence gathering and countering Acles Corporation's assassins.
George had always thought Professor X's approach was unwise. Why segregate mutants from humanity and give them a separate identity? It only invited trouble.
Now that the term "mutants" was fading from memory, George believed it should disappear entirely. Mutants were simply humans with special abilities, and they could cooperate with ordinary people to fight against evil scientists and terrorists.
Leon stared blankly at the surreal scene on the rooftop for two seconds before determination returned to his gaze.
"As long as you save my family and brothers, my life is yours!"
"I don't want your life," George replied with a snap of his fingers. "I only need you to help me with some tasks in the future."
At the sound, all the floating pistols fired simultaneously, killing Chebel's men in an instant.
"Sir, I can do whatever you need. You don't have to work with a failure like him," Chebel stammered, cold sweat pouring as he sat in his wheelchair.
He tried to persuade George to spare him.
But George simply smiled and shook his head.
"No. You're too old."
Chebel was unsuitable as an agent—he'd probably die in a few years, forcing George to start over. Besides, Leon had better moral character.
"I'll leave the rest to you."
A razor-thin blade flew from George's pocket, cutting through the ropes binding Leon's hands.
Leon stood up, picked up a pistol from a fallen bodyguard, and approached Chebel. Without giving him a chance to plead, Leon ended his life with a single shot.
"Thank you. How should I address you?"
Leon turned to George, sincerely expressing his gratitude.
Had George not intervened, Leon would have died, along with his wife, daughter, and brothers.
"No need to thank me," George replied, waving off the sentiment. "I saved you because I have my own goals. This is a partnership."
"As for my name, it's not convenient to share."
George touched the mask on his face, declining to reveal his identity.
Betrayal was common, and George didn't expect loyalty just because he had saved Leon.
"Then I'll call you Reaper. What do you need me to do?"
Leon studied George's masked face, understanding the unspoken meaning.
"Call me whatever you like. I'll find you when I need something," George replied, gesturing toward the rooftop's iron door.
"Your boss's men should be reacting soon. We need to leave."
"They're already here!" Leon said urgently, hearing the sound of heavy footsteps approaching the rooftop.
In his current state, Leon couldn't handle so many enemies, even with a gun.
He turned to George—the only one who could save them now.