Reincarnated in Banshee Town

Seeing Janie hurry up with her husband, Ethan touched his walking pocket looking for something. At that moment, footsteps sounded and a pack of cigarettes flew in his direction.
Ethan raised his hand to catch the pack. Soon a man dressed in a peculiar way appeared, a pair of pants and black leather boots, walking towards him. He was wearing a white shirt and a black sash around his waist. Her makeup included a striking eyeshadow, and mohawk-style hairstyle crowned her head.
Ethan took out a lighter to light a cigarette and the man in front of him as a gesture of thanks helped him light his.
—What if a great scandal was made this time. —said the stranger, with an indifferent expression on his face.
Ethan tapped his own cigarette with his finger, but the newly lit butt did not throw any ash.
—I remember you. I stopped you a while ago, you were riding a motorcycle, right?
—I remind you too, just call me Job —replied the man, watching Ethan from top to bottom —. How do you keep your skin so well? What type of cosmetics do you use?
Ethan was speechless, without waiting for that question. Ever since he had taken the regeneration potion, he had noticed how his skin improved day by day. Siobhan had also asked him that question several times, with a glow of envy in his eyes. But this was the first time a man asked him something like that.
Ethan coughed and murmured quietly:
—I am heterosexual.
— Fuck you! Who cares, you're not my type.
— What happened to your hair? —Ethan quickly changed the subject, pointing to the top of his head. The last time I had seen him, Job was bald.
— Don't you know the wigs? Or are there no stinky cow shit in this place?
Ethan choked, not knowing what to answer. Job spoke no more, silently observed Hood in the distance, and then turned his gaze to Carrie Hopewell, further away, her cigarette trembled, and her eyes showed a murderous look. The Hopewells were hugging Diva, completely oblivious to Job's gaze.
Job cursed himself and threw the cigarette on the floor. Ethan pretended not to see anything and smoked silently. He knew what the situation was like and why Job was so upset with Carrie, since he had betrayed them by leaving Hood in prison.
Hood finally finished dealing with FBI agent Dean Xavier, and seeing Ethan and Job together, he came up with a tired expression on his face.
—Ethan, this is my friend Job. Job, this is Ethan —Hood said, making a casual gesture to introduce them.
Ethan squinted at a circle of purple scars on Hood's wrists, identical on both hands. From his experience, this type of injury used to be caused by being handcuffed and struggling to break free, common in prisoners with drug addiction.
—We saw each other a long time ago. — Ethan commented.
— Can you tell me what happened to your hand? —Ethan asked, raising his to point.
Hood's eyes blinked, looking for a suitable excuse. But Job pursed his lips and couldn't help but answer:
— What else could it be? That bitch Anast ...
— Job, shut up! —Hood screamed in a low voice, and the atmosphere became more tense.
Job had no choice but to clench his teeth, cross his arms, and look angrily toward Carrie.
—I'm leaving first. I've already had an undercurrent of FBI shit, and Agent Xavier. — Hood said, without bothering to give any excuses. He waved, turned, and left.
—Hey Job, thanks for the pack. Next time I'll buy you a drink. —Ethan exclaimed, while Job was also leaving, he moved his hand as a gesture of approval.
Hood and Job got into a light yellow classic convertible car. Job patted the car before Hood started. At that moment, Carrie with Deva feared that if he released her he might lose her
. Seeing Job, his steps stopped suddenly.
Job looked at her mockingly and then waved his middle finger whispering "fuck you bitch". Hood pressed on the gas without giving him a glance.
The next day...
Ethan unexpectedly received a phone call. Janie Kendall invited him to dinner at her house that night. After several attempts to reject the invitation, Ethan had no choice but to accept, the woman did not take no for an answer.
After a day of work, quiet for a change Ethan finished his shift. Cases such as persecution, murder, or kidnapping were unusual in Banshee, after all it was a small town, and outside of which most major cases were handled by the County Police, today there were only a couple of traffic fines .
At night he drove to the Kendall house in his Challenger, 
Ethan walked to the door, a bottle of wine in his hand. It was customary not to arrive empty-handed at dinners or meetings.
—Ethan, welcome to my house —said Dan Kendall, smiling with a perfect smile.
—Thank you, you are very kind —Ethan replied as he got closer. Kendall shook his hand and invited him in.
Janie, hearing the noise, left the kitchen, pulled her hair behind her ears, and happily greeted Ethan. Seeing that she was in a good mood, Ethan smiled and handed him the red wine he had brought.
After courteous greetings, Kendall took Ethan to the living room to sit down, while Janie returned to the kitchen to finish dinner.
—Come and try this. A friend brought it to me from his trip. He is a true Cuban cigar —offered Kendall, taking a cigarette out of the humidor on the table and giving it to Ethan. 
After going through a tedious process and explanation of how to enjoy it, Ethan accepted the cigarette, but thought about crushing it in the ashtray. This kind of thing, which should be enjoyed slowly, but maybe the young mayor was in a hurry to brag a little bit about it, he would save it to enjoy in his cabin.
After listening to Kendall talk about Banshee's policies, and how to implement them for more than ten minutes, Ethan, restless, finally heard Janie's voice announcing that dinner was served.
Outside, the sky had already darkened, and a huge glass lamp brightly illuminated the Kendall family's dining room. On the marble table were three beef ribs and a large plate of Italian pasta, everything looked delicious.
Once Ethan sat down, Janie placed a small plate of macaroni in front of him. Kendall also opened the red wine that Ethan had brought. He raised the glass and said with a smile:
—Ethan, Janie and I, we want to thank you for what you did yesterday. It was very brave of you.
—Thank you. I just did what I should, it's my job. The food looks great, thank you very much Mrs. Kendall —Ethan replied, not wanting to prolong the courtesy. He took a sip of red wine, grabbed the fork, rolled up the macaroni, and put them in his mouth.
After chewing a few times, Ethan's eyes lit up. Janie's food was unexpectedly delicious.
During dinner, Kendall continued talking, but the conversation went from politics to Proctor. Ethan heard Kendall speak effusively about the evidence against Proctor, but that he had never been able to verify any crime, he could only smile from time to time, and he never stopped eating.
Janie looked strange at Ethan from time to time, and the atmosphere was peaceful.
After dinner Ethan said goodbye to the Kendalls, drove home, 
He put on casual clothes and headed to the Savoy Gentlemen's Club, since he returned from San Francisco he had not had time to hang out on site. After paying the entrance, he walked directly to the side of the stage and found a place to sit. Apparently I'm just in time, before I start the main show.
Soon the music quickly enveloped the place, it rang "Earned It" by The Weeknd through the speakers, while a blonde woman emerged from the shadows. Her golden hair fell in soft waves on her shoulders, and her blue eyes sparkled with a mixture of confidence and sensuality. Soon a waiter noticed his presence, without saying much he moved to bring a glass of whiskey to his table alone on the rocks.
The woman wore a tight black outfit that highlighted every curve of her body, made of lace and leather that flashed under the stage lights. The steel tube rose next to her, but she moved with almost supernatural ease, as if metal were an extension of her own body.
The music increased his rhythm, and the woman approached the tube, gently stroking it with her fingertips before casting a seductive look at the audience. Ethan, who had been watching from his seat on the edge of the stage, felt his heart beat a little faster.
With an elegant twist, the blonde jumped into the tube, entangling a leg around him as he leaned back, letting his hair touch the ground. The audience was hypnotized as she got up slowly, her body sliding down the tube with a grace that contradicted the force necessary to hold herself in the air, slowly disengaging from her garments, exposing her figure.
Each movement was perfectly synchronized with the music. When the melody climaxed, she turned around the tube, her legs extending into a perfect division, before going down again, her body moving like a feline hunting her prey. The sweat began to shine on her skin as the show intensified, but she did not lose control for a second.
Ethan couldn't help but smile as he pulled out a wad of small bills and threw it into the air on the platform. The dollars fluttered towards the stage, some sticking to the wet skin of the woman, who gave her a smile.
The show culminated with the blonde sliding down the tube in one last turn, her feet touching the ground with the elegance of a dancer.
After having fun for a couple of hours and a few drinks, Ethan was about to leave the club when a tall blonde who had started the show walked with him. Ethan just looked at her and his memory immediately returned to him, that body was unmistakable, it was the girl he had seen when he met Kai Proctor before. 
The blonde noticed Ethan's gaze and smiled, grabbing his hand and trying to take it away. Ethan quickly wanted to refuse, but his body did not obey him, stepped forward and followed.
—Well, I have never been able to reject a beautiful woman. —Ethan sighed.
They reached a covered corner, several cabins stretched down a narrow corridor, where the blonde's passionate erotic dance greatly enriched Ethan's knowledge. 
Usually if they were not regular or VIP clients, they only received normal dance services, so I would not seek to sleep with this woman, it was a beauty, it was true but it was not her type. Ethan got up, opened the curtain half covered, and left. After taking a few steps, he stopped.
Brock was smoking a cigar with an expression of enjoyment, lying in a corner with a glass of wine in his hand, while a red-haired girl danced slowly over him. This is what you could define as a regular customer.
The two looked at each other and Ethan raised his thumb towards his partner with a smile. That small waist twisted gracefully over Brock's bulging belly, seeing him quickly felt angry, grabbed a handful of nuts from the small plate next to him, and threw them at him. Seeing this, the red-haired girl quickly got up and walked over. Closing the curtain, he even winked at Ethan.
Ethan laughed and left the Savoy Gentlemen's Club amid Brock's curses.
Still excited by what happened, Ethan got in the car and drove to Miles's restaurant. I didn't know if Daria was working, but Ethan felt that just seeing wasn't enough, maybe his cousin was still in town.
By parking the car outside the restaurant, he could see Daria sitting at the bar through the huge glass window. It was too late and there were only one or two people dining at the restaurant. She was enjoying a rare moment of tranquility in the restaurant. Leaning against one hand, she leafed through the magazines scattered on the bar, smiling from time to time. The atmosphere in the place seemed particularly calm.
Seeing the scene in front of him, Ethan's restless mood subsided. He opened the glass door of the restaurant and entered with a smile. Daria got up hearing the noise, and seeing that it was Ethan, she greeted him cheerfully.
— What are you doing here?
—I couldn't sleep, so go around and clear myself.
Ethan sat in the chair in front of her and asked for a bottle of beer. They both lay down at the bar and discussed the gossip in the magazines, laughing from time to time.
While they were talking animatedly, someone opened the door and entered. He soon got up from the stool and came over to greet the newcomer. Ethan ignored her and continued reading the magazines in her hands.
—Cafe and a slice of cake, do you have any?
—Sure, I prepare them myself —offered Daria —. We have, walnut and chocolate.
He presented the cakes covered with glass lids on the bar to the guests.
—Bring me a piece of chocolate —a deep voice sounded, with such a strong accent that it reminded Ethan of the Ukrainian girl from a while ago.
Daria smiled, opened the glass lid, cut a piece of chocolate cake, and placed it on a plate.
—I can see you're not from around here, right? —commented as he pushed the plate in front of the guest —. After all, everyone in town has come to my restaurant. I've never seen you before.
The man in a suit in front of her smiled, but said nothing.
—Seeing your accent, I wonder where you are from —I ask curiously.
The man in the suit did not answer the question. After hitting the cake in front of him with a stainless steel fork, he didn't start eating directly, but reached out to his pocket. When he took it out, he was holding a hundred dollar bill.
—This covers the cost of the service and the rest keep it as a tip —said the man, with a strong accent, from Eastern Europe, as he left the ticket on the bar and pushed it towards the waitress —. I want to ask you something, if you don't mind.
—Of course. What do you want to know? —Daria smiled as she kept the money in her apron.
The man in the suit nodded and drummed his fingers on the counter.
—For example, you know the Chief of the Banshee Police Department.
Ethan stopped turning the page and looked askance, his eyes becoming sharp. The man in front of Daria had a short haircut and a burly constitution. His suit appeared to be slightly unbuttoned, revealing a fierce tattoo of a black spider on his neck.
The man in the suit noticed Ethan's movements, turned around a bit, and looked at him.
The money came very easily, and he laughed happily at the generous tip.
—He is Ethan. He works at the Banshee Police Department. If you want to know something, ask him.
—I'm going to make you a smoothie. It is a gift from home.
Daria, afraid Ethan would be upset, laughed and ran to the back to prepare the smoothie.
However, he did not notice that both Ethan and the man in the suit remained motionless, without batting an eye. After she left, the only sound left was that of the fan spinning over their heads.
The last client of the restaurant finished his meal, opened the glass door and left. The door slammed shut behind him.
With his hand on the counter and his gun ready on his clothes, Ethan had no time to touch her. As soon as he heard the sound of the door, he jumped fiercely, pouncing on the man in the suit.
The atmosphere of the restaurant changed in an instant. The tension was palpable, and the air was filled with dangerous energy when the man in the suit, with a quick and lethal movement, launched himself at Ethan. In his hand, the fork glowed like a deadly weapon, moving with the precision of a poisonous snake, each stabbing aimed at killing his opponent.
Ethan, with sharp reflexes thanks to increased body-to-hand fighting experience ability, dodged the first attack, tilting his head to one side at the last second. The fork passed so close to his neck that he could feel the cold metal skimming his skin. There was no time to think, just to act. The man in the suit gave him no respite, turning on himself with unexpected speed and throwing a direct punch at Ethan's jaw.
Ethan blocked the blow with his forearm, deflecting his fist with a fluid movement, while using the impulse to throw a knee towards the man's abdomen. But his opponent, showing cold cunning, quickly lowered his hands, catching Ethan's knee in the air with both palms. The impact resonated in the room, but was mitigated by the force of the man in the suit.
The sweat began to shine on the forehead of the man in the suit, reflecting the light of the restaurant. It was clear that he did not expect Ethan to be so strong, but the police were not going to give him a chance to recover. Taking advantage of the small margin he had created, Ethan released his leg and stepped back half a step before throwing a quick combination of punches.
The first was a jab straight at the head of the man in the suit, followed by a powerful hook aimed at the ribs. The man managed to block the jab with his forearm, but the hook hit him hard in the ribs, forcing him to release a grunt of pain. The sound of their forced breathing filled the space between them, but Ethan was unwilling to stop there.
He turned his body in a fluid motion, carrying his elbow like a blade. Precisely, he threw his elbow towards the ribs of the man in the suit, looking for a hole in his defense. The man tried to react, raising his arm to block, but the blow was too fast, too accurate. He felt an immediate numbness running through his arm, as if the nerves had been suddenly disconnected.
The fork, which he had been holding so fervently, slipped from his sleepy fingers, falling to the ground. But before he could touch the floor, Ethan caught him in the air, just as fast as lightning.
The eyes of the man in the suit opened in disbelief when he saw the cold flash of the fork directed at him. There was a moment when time seemed to stop, and then, with a quick and determined movement, Ethan plunged the fork into the man's chest. The sound was dull, an echo off metal against the flesh, followed by a muffled scream that was lost in the tension of the moment.
The man in the suit staggered back, his eyes filled with a mixture of pain and surprise. The blood began to emanate from the wound while holding tight, he had not touched a vital point and still stood up staining the expensive suit. Ethan removed the fork with a quick movement, leaving a trail of blood in his wake.
The fight was not over, but the air was charged with the strain of a match where they both knew the next move could be the last. Ethan, with the bloody fork still in hand, was ready to finish what he had started.