Reborn As An Extra : I'm gonna mess up everything

If your best friend were holding a gun to your head, what would your final words be?

This very scenario unfolded for a man known only by his alias, "Fable," on the night he became the world's best hitman.

It was a bloody, rainy night. Not only did translucent raindrops fall from the clouds, but the ground was soaked with red liquid—blood. The rain mingled with the blood, creating rivulets of crimson that washed over the scene of carnage.

In the middle of an abandoned area, a place often frequented by the most nefarious criminals, the silver light of the moon shone down on a man in his thirties. He knelt on the ground, surrounded by the corpses of the dozen men he had killed moments before. The blood of his victims was still fresh, and the relentless rain turned the ground into a gruesome sea of red.

"Fable, today is the day you die!" A manly voice pierced the night, drawing the moonlight's focus to another man of the same age. He wore a black coat over a white shirt, his appearance immaculate despite the chaos surrounding him. In his hand was a pistol, which he aimed directly at Fable's forehead.

Fable's eyes, cold and calculating, looked up at the man before him. This man was not just any adversary; he was his best friend, now turned executioner. The betrayal hung heavy in the air, almost tangible in its intensity.

The rain poured down relentlessly, soaking Fable's hair and clothes, the droplets mingling with the blood that stained his skin. His breaths came slow and steady, a stark contrast to the frenetic energy of the battle that had just ended. Despite the imminent danger, he maintained an eerie calm.

"Is this how it ends? Codename 'Predictor'... Fable and Predictor," Fable chuckled with a bittersweet nostalgia, the sound incongruous against the backdrop of the bloody, rain-soaked night. "We were the best duo from childhood until now—the dynamite duo. No one could decide which one of us was stronger." His voice was low, almost a whisper, but it carried the weight of their shared history. His eyes, filled with a mixture of sorrow and defiance, bore into those of his former friend, searching for a glimmer of the bond they once shared. "After everything we've been through, this is how you choose to do it?"

The man with the gun, his hand trembling slightly, tightened his grip. His face was a mask of conflicting emotions—anger, sorrow, and regret warred for dominance in his expression. "You brought this on yourself, Fable. You left me no choice."

"The code was broken the day you betrayed us all," the man snapped, his voice cracking with emotion. "You became a monster, Fable. Your strength now surpasses human limits. Even I can't predict who would win if we fought."

The rain intensified, the sound of raindrops hitting the ground mingling with the silence that followed. Fable closed his eyes for a moment, letting the rain wash over him, cleansing the blood and grime from his skin. When he opened them again, there was a steely resolve in his gaze.

"Surpassing human limits? Haven't you also surpassed human limits?" he said, his voice steady and unwavering. "If I'm a monster, then you are no different. The organization sent you to finish me and you followed their orders like a loyal dog. But after this, What will you do? They'll hunt you down too."

Predictor's finger hovered over the trigger, his hand shaking. Doubt flickered in his eyes, but his resolve soon returned. "The organization's orders are absolute. And what will I do after killing you? I'll kill myself too. There's no point in living without you, my rival."

Fable's gaze softened for a moment, a rare glimpse of vulnerability breaking through his hardened exterior. "Any last words?" Predictor asked, his voice thick with emotion.

Fable tilted his head, rolling his eyes upwards as if in deep contemplation. After a few seconds, a mischievous grin spread across his face. "Ummm..." he began, dragging out the suspense. Finally, with a voice that echoed in the silence, he said, "The last person to die is gay!"