Monster Hunter: Broke to Boss

CHAPTER TWO: The Accident

"Chicken's good! Might have to pay this Golden Pot Diner a visit!" Scarface had said, licking his greasy fingers before hurling the empty takeout box at Leo's half-conscious body. The box had landed with a pathetic flop, a final insult atop the injuries.

The tattooed guy snorted, "now you know better than to run your mouth like a fucking peace of crap." Having said that, he kicked Leo one last time before following the rest of the crew.

Leo's phone had vibrated against his chest like an alarm clock from hell. Even through the haze of pain, he saw Chef Chu's name flash across the cracked screen. The irony that the phone still worked stung harder than the bruises.

He groaned and answered.

"YOU GOOD-FOR-NOTHING BASTARD!" Chef Chu's voice exploded through the speaker. The Cantonese curses were sharp and fast, slapping Leo's eardrums like open palms. "The customer had been calling me for the past 30 minutes that you hadn't turned up!"

"Rather than yelling at me, ask your fucking customer why he didn't inform me that he had fucking thugs in the damn building!" Leo winced. "If your fat, pot-bellied ass had come to this side of town, you would’ve gotten the same beat down. And trust me, you'd have lost 30 kilograms!"

Chef Chu felt his blood pressure rising, "I gave you a job! I gave you shelter! And this is how you repay me? You can’t even deliver a simple fucking breakfast?!"

Leo’s jaw clenched. Blood from his busted lip pooled in his mouth. He spat to the side, a mixture of rain and crimson. "I never gained anything from you, old man. Just bad attitude, bad temper and bad luck in bulk. "

Chef Chu’s breath came in angry huffs over the line. "You distribute misfortune like it's a damn flier! You’re cursed, Leo! CURSED! I should’ve never taken you in. Return my scooter and GET THE FUCK OUT of my house and out of my damn life! Tonight."

The line went dead. Just like that, his last tether to anything close to stability was cut.

Leo didn’t scream. He didn’t punch anything. He just sat there on the scooter, rain soaking through to his bones, and let the silence scream for him.

A minute passed. Then another.

Finally, he muttered, "Fuck me sideways."

With a sigh, he revved the engine. Or tried to.

The scooter groaned.

"Don’t die on me now, you stubborn piece of shit."

It responded with a shudder, then lurched forward. Leo steered it carefully through the winding, narrow mountain path. The rain intensified, drumming on his helmet like war drums.

—

Rain slashed from the sky like thrown knives, cold and unrelenting. The mountain road twisted ahead of Leo like a serpent, slick and treacherous under his tires. Thunder rolled above, low and guttural, as though the heavens themselves were growling at him. He could barely see ten feet ahead; the sheets of rain blurred his vision, mixing with the blood still clinging to his brow. His shirt stuck to his back, and each breath he took burned with cold and humiliation.

The scooter rattled beneath him like an old man with failing knees. Its once-reliable hum sputtered, faltered, then picked up again, like it too was fighting to stay alive.

Leo's hands were raw from gripping the handlebars. His knuckles, bloodied and bruised from the earlier brawl, throbbed in sync with the pulse pounding in his temple. The laughter of the thugs echoed in his head, a cruel loop that refused to die down.

Halfway down the slope, the brakes began to squeal. A horrible, high-pitched noise that drilled into Leo’s ears. He squeezed the brake lever tighter.

Nothing happened.

Panic flared.

He pressed it again. Harder.

Still nothing.

"No. No. No no no—"

The scooter picked up speed.

The wheels slipped.

"Oh God... shit... fuck!"

He leaned to the left, trying to steady it, but the road curved sharply to the right. Water splashed up, blinding him. The scooter jerked violently, tires skimming the edge of the cliffside road.

"I’m sorry! I’m sorry, okay?!" he yelled into the void. "I’m sorry for being a cunt, a bastard, a fucking hothead, just... I’m sorry!"

Lightning flashed.

Thunder cracked.

The scooter veered violently to the right—

—and the world tilted.

The tires lost all traction.

Time slowed.

Leo’s heart stopped.

Then, with a sickening skid, the scooter crashed through the roadside barrier, snapping the wooden post like a twig.

Leo was airborne. For one horrible, weightless moment, he floated above the void. Then gravity grabbed him by the throat and yanked him down.

The scooter tumbled beside him, metal and sparks and screams wrapped into one chaotic symphony.

He hit the ground once—hard. Then again. And again.

The rain blurred everything.

His body rolled, bounced, then slid. Rocks tore through his clothes. Branches lashed his skin. Pain exploded in every joint, every muscle.

When he finally stopped, he was lying face down in the mud at the bottom of the ravine.

The scooter was a mangled wreck of metal ten feet away, still steaming.

Leo didn’t move.

He didn’t even have the strength to curse.

The storm continued above him, unbothered by the broken boy below.

And then, just before the darkness swallowed him whole, Leo whispered, "This... this is bullshit."

Then everything went black.