How many times had I died?

Ten thousand? A hundred? A million? I'd tried to keep track but it was maddening.

Again, I appeared intact and whole as if by magic, and before I could do anything, the huge black man smashed me into the floor. I felt my ribs mending themselves even as they broke. Pain shot through me, radiating from the blow outwards, like the agony had to take a split second to fill my whole body.

The blue-haired girl on his shoulder whispered to him. "Tower? You can't get hurt, right?"

"I mean, I can. But not from like, punches or speeding trains or anything, if I know it's coming."

"Explosions?"

"Nah, I'm good."

"Tower, hit him with me. Jack, get out of here."

"What? Are you crazy?" he asked, taking his eyes off me for a split second only.

"No, but if you use...use me like a weapon...I'll explode. He'll be...gone."

"I found air in my lungs again. I'd shouted whatever I could think of at the three, it made no difference. "Go fuck yourselves!" I screamed in frustration. Tower looked down at me and slammed my head through the pavement again. He did that even if I said nothing.

"Are you sure?" He asked, sounding concerned. He always sounded concerned, but never hesitated to do it.

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"No, but do it."

The smiling man seized my leg and I felt myself getting taken away again. This power of his...I'd only had the chance to taste it. If I could just get my hands on him...but try as I might, I never got a hand in before the big man stopped me. Today he just batted me off. Other times he punched me or did worse.

And then we were back where it had all gone wrong. The trap I'd set, the icehouse I'd laid out, and killed not a one of them. As the unsettling sensation of movement in my stomach stopped, the under-construction building swam into view. Foggier than I remembered. Every time.

The big guy would repeat himself again. "You're really sure about this?" He loved asking that insipid question.

"He'll just regenerate anything less, right?"

"I don't know. Chariot?" he asked his comms, but there was no response I could hear.

"Yeah, just do it," she said.

"No, not again, not again, please," I pleaded.

"Don't worry, there won't be an again for you," he said and swung the girl down into me. There was an explosion and I could feel myself being ripped apart. My regeneration did its best, but the force was too great. It felt like there was almost hope, if he didn't hit me straight-on, if I could just dodge at the last second, I might only get blown away, might only be 99% dead. It might take me days or weeks to recover, but if I could only manage.

But it was false hope. Every time, I died.

I had a few moments of extremely painful nonexistence where something held my consciousness together in a state of non-being, of pure agony, a bodiless soul, and these were the moments I feared. Dying over and over was one thing, but non-existence...this was what made me conclude this must simply be hell. My sins of killing fellow Exhumans and stealing their powers was too great, and this was my punishment.

And then, again, I appeared intact and whole as if by magic. Before I could do anything, the huge man smashed me into the floor. I felt my ribs mending themselves even as they broke.

The pain radiated through my body, leaving me with no air in my lungs and the same thought as I ever had now.

How many times had I died?