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Derek laughed. “See?—”

“I didn’t,” Leo said, voice flat. He rewound. Played the clip again. Same future. Same body. Same spreading dark.

Leo looked down. The camera screen was still on. The future had changed. Now it showed a garage — their garage — but older. Dustier. One chair empty. One wall covered in printouts of the same red car, connected by red string. dudefilms.web

A street. Night. A red car. And Derek, lying face down on the asphalt, a dark pool spreading from his head. The timestamp in the corner read:

The second car came from nowhere. Black. Fast. No headlights. Derek laughed

And in the corner of the frame, a reflection: Leo. Alone. Holding the cursed camera. Checking the time.

Not the raccoon. Not the Roomba.

“Dude,” Derek said, grinning — the same stupid, invincible grin from every bad short they’d ever made. “It’s dudefilms. We film stupid stuff. Nothing bad ever actually happens.”