A Regressed Villain: Heroines, Villainesses and Me?

On the main highway of the city, a sleek black sedan raced down the road, pushing its limits at maximum speed.

"Hello, Young Master Lin, we'll catch up to them soon," a woman said over the phone from the back seat. She had just relayed the frustrating news that they had lost sight of a black sports car, one that had proven faster than they had expected and had now disappeared from view.

The urgency of losing their prey weighed heavily on her, but the individuals they were tracking were likely transporting a patient to the nearest hospital.

All she needed to do was input the location of the closest medical facility into the GPS.

With a sigh, she ended the call, rubbing her forehead in frustration. The burden of responsibility felt immense, amplified by the pressure of pursuing a professor. Despite being one of Diego's skilled mercenaries, this particular mission felt especially taxing.

"What can we do? He is a higher-up," the man in the driver's seat said, shaking his head in resignation. Just then, his eyes caught sight of a college bus a short distance ahead.

The bus had come to a stop in the middle of the road, with its driver—a lone, hunched old man—struggling to fix the malfunctioning engine.

"Looks like they might need some help," the driver remarked, his gaze narrowing as he analyzed the scene. He observed that all of the students onboard were female, while the driver was left to struggle with the repair alone.

"Which college is that?" the woman inquired as the sedan parked slowly at the corner of the highway. They all stepped out of the car, scanning their surroundings for any unexpected developments while she asked about the bus.

"It's one of the vehicles belonging to Sertsul Foundation, and those girls are likely trainees," the driver, a bald man in a suit, said as he unbuttoned his jacket. With his hands tucked into his pockets, he moved forward, his eyes narrowed and exuding a tough demeanor, revealing he recognized the bus at first glance.

"By the way, you have the guns, right?" inquired another man in a black suit and glasses who accompanied them. He removed the safety lock from his firearm and tucked it into his pocket, clearly prepared for any uncertain situation while keeping his guard up.

"Yes," both the woman and the bald man nodded, confirming that they were carrying their weapons, even though it was just a women's bus. They knew better than to take unnecessary risks.

The woman wore a black suit, just like the two men, and glasses that gave her the appearance of a bodyguard.

"Hey, what's going on? Do you need any help?" the bald man called out to the driver as he approached, noticing the curious gazes of the college students directed at him. He instinctively tried to project confidence despite the unexpected attention.

"Oh, I apologize for blocking the road," the driver replied, an older man who ruffled his hair as he spoke. He gestured towards the bus and knelt down to look underneath it, his eyes scanning the area beneath the center of the vehicle. "It seems there might be some issue with the fuel tank or something."

"What? Let me see," the bald man remarked, noticing that most of the female students were sneaking glances in his direction. Driven by instinct, he felt an urge to assist them. Given that the majority of onlookers were women and he was a gentleman, he believed it was his duty to lend a hand.

"Hand that over; I'll take a look at the issue," he said, taking the screwdriver from the driver's grip. Kneeling on the road, he removed his suit jacket and tossed it aside, lying down on the pavement as he half-entered the bus.

As he inspected the vehicle with the screwdriver, he began tapping on the underside while examining a rather unusual mechanism. Curiosity getting the better of him, he asked, "Where's the fuel tank for this thing?"

"It must be... oh, my apologies," the elderly man replied, folding his hands behind his slightly hunched back. He glanced down at the bald man's legs, which were the only part visible, as the rest of his body was mostly obscured by the bus. "My amnesia has struck again; I forgot to mention that this is actually an electric bus."

'?!!'

"BROTHER!!"

"STOP THE BUS!" Both a woman and a man, standing outside, suddenly noticed the bus moving on its own. It was running on electricity, making barely any sound, so the man inside was oblivious to the situation as it crept forward steadily.

The other two swiftly sprinted towards the driver's seat, convinced it was a malfunction that needed immediate action. The woman outpaced her companion, reaching the door first.

"Damn it—?!" As she flung it open, she was shocked to see a female student pressing the accelerator.

"WHAT ARE YOU DOING!?" she shouted. Instinctively, she went for her gun pocket, but before she could draw it, a dart struck her arm.

In a desperate attempt to dodge it, she stumbled aside, only to be met with a brutal kick to her abdomen delivered by the same old man who had been standing nearby.

Bam!

"Kugh?!" she gasped as the wind was knocked from her lungs.

"ARGGHHHHHH!" In an instant, the bus continued rolling forward, its weight crashing down on the man, who was now caught beneath it. The vehicle effortlessly flattened him, leaving no time for him to react.

The road was instantly soaked in blood, a horrific scene unfolding before their eyes.

"YOU BASTARDS!" All the while, the man accompanying the woman and witnessing the gruesome sight of his colleague crushed beneath the bus yanked out his gun, fury fueling his movements as he prepared to fire.

BANG!

But before he could pull the trigger, a gunshot rang out, echoing in the tension-filled air.

Time seemed to freeze as he stood frozen in shock.

Blood trickled down his nose and eyebrows, the warmth spilling over his features. His vision blurred, the world flipping upside down, before he collapsed onto the asphalt, smoke curling from the bullet hole in his forehead as darkness enveloped him.

Thud

In just a few moments, both men lay dead, the violence unfolding on an eerily quiet highway that should have been bustling with cars.

The woman accompanying them took a leap, distancing herself from the old man while clutching her abdomen.
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She had been caught off guard and had endured a powerful kick.

"Argh... W-who are you people!?" The woman gasped, her voice tremulous as she surveyed the scene, her comrades now lifeless on the ground.

"Hohoho, we are just like you," the old man replied, straightening his hunched back. As he did so, he began to loosen his folded hands, stretching them towards his face.

To woman's horror, the skin of his face seemed to pull away with ease, revealing hands that were surprisingly youthful and feminine, devoid of wrinkles and markedly different in tone from the rest of his body.

The woman, still standing with her fists clenched tightly, couldn't tear her gaze away from him as a cold chill raced down her spine.

The sight of the old man peeling away his skin was unsettling, but what shocked her most was the face that emerged beneath—one that was eerily familiar.

"Y-you..." she stammered, recognition dawning upon her amidst the chaos and fear. Only a single word as a mumble left her mouth, "N-nightcrawl...."