"Well, it seems my mercenary days are behind me. Let's get moving." Deadpool stretched, cracked his neck, and strutted toward the exit.
Somewhere in the outskirts of New York, a sleek red Rolls-Royce Phantom sat parked outside a massive, abandoned industrial complex.
Rusted machinery and heaps of scrap metal littered the area, remnants of a long-forgotten past.
"This is the place?" Ethan muttered, eyeing the rust-covered wreckage with distaste.
"Looks like someone raided a junkyard and called it home. Figures. A perfect hideout for rats who thrive in the shadows."
"Then I guess it's time for the exterminators to get to work." Deadpool hopped out of the car, rolling his shoulders.
"But before that—just a thought—next time you drive, maybe try doing it in a dress? I think you'd really pull it off."
Ethan shot him a look, his smirk razor-sharp.
"And if I do, next time I'll be using your balls as brakes. Tell me, Wade, how quickly do you regenerate down there?"
Deadpool held up his hands.
"Alright, alright! New topic. How about Francis? I heard he doesn't have any feeling left in his body. Makes me wonder—does that apply to everything? Poor guy, what a tragic life. Let's make sure we really make him suffer."
His usual playful tone darkened into something much colder.
"If someone mutilated your face, warped your mind, and stole the love of your life, you'd be dying to return the favor. Trust me, I plan to build my happiness on his pain."
As if on cue, the sound of gunfire split the air.
"And there's the opening act! Time to cue my BGM!"
A familiar beat blasted from the phone in Deadpool's pocket.
—X gon' give it to ya
Fuck waitin' for you to get it on your own!
X gon' deliver to ya—
Bullets whizzed past as Deadpool dove behind cover in a smooth, practiced motion.
"Whew! Alright, appetizer's here. Time for the main course! Now, where's my—wait, where the hell's my gear?"
His masked head snapped toward the car.
Empty hands. Empty belt. Empty back.
He was, in every sense, completely unarmed.
"Ohhh, don't tell me…" He turned a slow, suspicious gaze to Ethan.
"You left it back in the apartment," Ethan deadpanned.
Deadpool groaned dramatically. "And you didn't remind me?!"
"Why would I? You were the one who packed a small arsenal into my very expensive car. What if something exploded? You do realize flammable materials aren't allowed in a vehicle, right? Besides, you really think those weapons are necessary?"
Deadpool flailed his arms.
"Oh, yeah, totally unnecessary. Let's just use fists. Great idea! Hey, since we're at it, how about waving the white flag?" He yanked up his mask just enough to peek down at his boxers.
"Wait, lucky me—I'm already wearing white! What do you think, transmigrator? Solid strategy?"
Ethan ignored the last part that Wade said and smirked.
"Go ahead. I won't stop you. I might even snap a picture and tweet it for posterity. But just so we're clear—aren't fists better than guns?"
He turned to Katie and Pete, who both nodded in agreement.
Deadpool looked between them and sighed.
"Unbelievable. I'm surrounded by lunatics."
Ignoring Wade's theatrics, Ethan casually picked up Deadpool's phone from where he'd dropped it, tapped the music button again, and strode forward without a hint of hesitation.
—"I'm a wolf in sheep's clothing Only one that you know who can chill and come back—
Gunfire erupted again. The mercenaries opened fire, but the results were… underwhelming.
Bullets that should have hit their mark phased straight through.
Some sparked harmlessly into tiny flames before fizzling out.
Others—unfortunately for the shooters—reversed direction entirely, slamming back into the ones who fired them.
Bodies hit the ground in a chorus of pained groans.
Ethan turned slightly, glancing back at Deadpool. "So, tell me again—are guns really that useful?"
Deadpool crossed his arms, watching the mercenaries drop like flies.
"You make a compelling argument." He sighed and rubbed his chin.
"You know what you're missing, though? A hype man. Someone who yells '666' at the perfect moment, knows how to cue the BGM, and delivers top-tier commentary."
His head tilted slightly. "...Wait a minute. Isn't this supposed to be my BGM?!"
"Looks like we've cleared out the minions. Time for the boss fight," Deadpool quipped, stretching his arms. His gaze flicked up to the high platform where Francis stood, gripping Vanessa tightly. "And of course, the bastard's still holding the 'princess' hostage. Classic."
From above, Francis smirked down at them. "Wade, I have to say, I'm impressed. You actually managed to take down one of my research facilities." He tightened his grip on Vanessa and sneered. "But now I have to ask—does she have your little healing trick?"
"Touch her, and I'll personally turn your fingers into French fries," Deadpool shot back, his voice cold.
"Oh?" Francis chuckled, then shifted his gaze toward Angel Dust.
Without needing a word of instruction, Angel leaped from the platform, landing with enough force to crack the pavement beneath her. Dust and debris scattered as she stood up, rolling her shoulders.
Deadpool clapped his hands. "Whoo! Superhero landing! How's your knees? You're a lovely lady, but I'm saving myself for Francis." He gave her an approving nod.
"I think my buddy here would be a better dance partner."
With that, Deadpool swiftly backpedaled behind Colossus, giving him an encouraging pat on the shoulder.
Colossus sighed, shooting Deadpool a look.
He wasn't one to shy away from a fight, and given the limited numbers on their side, he supposed it was his turn.
"Listen," he started, addressing Angel with an almost apologetic tone. "I don't like fighting women, so let's just—"
BOOM!
Before he could finish his sentence, Angel's fist connected with his chest, sending him skidding across the ground.
He plowed through the dirt for over ten meters before rolling to a stop.
Deadpool whistled. "That's rough, buddy."
He turned toward Ethan.
"So... you gonna help, or...?"
"He doesn't need help." Ethan folded his arms, watching as Colossus climbed to his feet, clearly more annoyed than hurt.
Cracking his knuckles, Colossus squared his stance. "Alright then."
Angel charged, and he met her head-on.
Their fists collided with a deafening clang, like metal striking metal.
Angel was strong, but Colossus' organic steel form made him nearly indestructible.
What followed was less of a fight and more of a brutal, knock-down, drag-out brawl—punches, kicks, grappling, slamming each other into walls, and using the ground itself as a weapon.
Meanwhile, Deadpool and Katie were making quick work of the remaining mercenaries, cutting through them like a hot knife through butter.
Interestingly, two of these mercenaries had been in a bar with Deadpool not too long ago, chatting and commiserating over how tough life was.
Their mistake was letting their guard down.
Deadpool, ever the opportunist, had waited for the perfect moment—then decked them both in the face, leaving them unconscious on the pavement.
"Job well done." Dusting off his hands, he glanced toward Ethan. "Alright, Vector Control, get me up there. I'm ready to kick Francis' ass."
Ethan tilted his head. "No need. Let's just bring him down here."
With a snap of his fingers, a sudden burst of forceful wind surged upward, blasting Francis and Vanessa off the platform.
Deadpool's eyes widened as he saw Vanessa free-falling from thirty meters up.
"Okay, cool move, very dramatic, love the flair, but uh—DID YOU PLAN FOR AN AIRBAG?!"