The Scumbag's Regret: My Lethal Comeback

A violent wave of nausea hit Karina the moment she opened her eyes.

The glaring overhead lights of the Los Angeles film set stabbed into her retinas. Her brain throbbed as if someone had driven a rusty nail through her skull, flooding her mind with memories that didn't belong to her. What is this place? Am I dead? No... this body, this light... this is real. She squinted, her vision blurry, her stomach twisting into a tight, painful knot.

Before she could even process the sheer insanity of her situation, a sharp rush of wind sliced toward her right cheek.

Candice Meadows, the lead actress, had gone entirely off-script. Malice flashed in Candice's eyes as she swung her arm with full force, aiming a vicious slap right at Karina's face.

Around them, the crew sucked in collective, shocked breaths. Behind the monitor, director Arthur Vance's eyes widened in horror, but his mouth couldn't form the word "Cut" fast enough.

In that split second, muscle memory forged in the blood-soaked dirt of a war zone took over.

Karina didn't flinch. She didn't cower. Her left hand shot up with a speed that defied human reflexes.

Smack.

A dull, heavy thud echoed across the set. Karina's fingers clamped around Candice's delicate wrist like a steel vice, stopping the slap dead in mid-air. The sheer force of the impact seemed to suck the oxygen right out of the room.

Pain shot up Candice's arm. Her bones ground together under the crushing grip. Her eyes bulged in disbelief as she tried to yank her hand back, but it was like trying to pull her arm out of an industrial hydraulic press. Karina didn't budge an inch.

Slowly, Karina lifted her gaze.

The timid, pathetic look that usually occupied this body's eyes was gone. In its place was a stare as cold as a morgue slab. It was the look of someone who had crawled out of a mountain of corpses. Pure, unadulterated intent to kill.

Meeting that horrifying gaze, Candice's heart violently contracted. Her knees gave out, trembling uncontrollably. The lines she had prepared to humiliate Karina died in her throat.

Dead silence fell over the set. The only sound was Candice's heavy, terrified panting being picked up by the boom mics.

Arthur leaped up from his director's chair. He stared at the monitor, his hands shaking with pure adrenaline as he looked at Karina's face-a perfect blend of overwhelming dominance and shattered beauty.

Karina tightened her grip just a fraction, watching Candice's face contort in agony. A mocking, ice-cold smirk touched Karina's lips.

Then, she flicked her wrist.

The momentum sent Candice stumbling backward. Her expensive stiletto heel snapped. She crashed hard onto the dusty plywood floor of the set, a pathetic heap of designer fabric and bruised ego.

Candice's assistant shrieked and rushed forward to help her up. The fall snapped Candice out of her paralyzed fear. Tears of humiliation spilled down her cheeks.

"She assaulted me!" Candice screamed, pointing a trembling