Chapter 239: Allen Finds Out the Employer is Lilith
Slurp…
Deadpool slurped his noodles and couldn't help but praise, "Didn't expect your cooking to still be this amazing."
It had been quite a while since their last meeting at Xavier's School.
During the casual conversation, Allen learned that Deadpool had become a regular customer, treating the place like his personal cafeteria for all three meals.
Apparently, Nightcrawler—Kurt—was also working part-time as a delivery guy for the shop.
"How come I don't see the Smurf?"
Allen glanced around, curious, but didn't see Nightcrawler.
Just as he finished speaking, a puff of black spatial mist appeared out of nowhere.
Kurt, still with his iconic blue skin but clearly aged, stepped out.
"Allen? Are you really Allen!?"
Kurt stared at Allen in disbelief. "You haven't changed at all. Still look like a teenager."
It had been so long—Pietro had already become a greasy middle-aged man, and Kurt himself looked visibly older. He couldn't help but envy Allen's seemingly eternal youth.
Of course, Deadpool's healing factor slowed aging, but with his disfigured face always hidden behind a mask, it was hard to tell how much he'd changed.
"What can I say, I was born beautiful, forever dazzling, an eternal, budding flower," Allen said shyly.
"…"
Yup—still crazy as ever.
"Whoa… that's a huge Bernese Mountain Dog."
Kurt jumped back in surprise upon noticing Nanaue scarfing down noodles beside him.
"Hi there. Nanaue is the son of the Shark God, not a Bernese Mountain Dog."
Nanaue raised his fork, twirled a massive clump of noodles, and shoved it into his mouth, munching away noisily.
"Lunch break's over—time to get to work."
Deadpool wiped his mouth, lowered his mask, and suddenly drew his twin pistols on Allen, reassuring him, "Don't worry. I'll blow your head off in one shot. You won't feel a thing."
"Put that down! Don't mess up my place!"
"Wade, we're all friends here—cut it out."
Both Pietro and Kurt stepped in to stop him.
These two nutcases had been tight back at school. Why the hell were they pulling guns on each other now?
"You lunatic, who ordered the hit? Was the pay even decent?" Allen asked with a smirk.
"No idea who the client is. They wired a million bucks without blinking."
Always broke, Wade had zero hesitation selling out a friend when he saw an extra million in his account.
"A measly million?"
Allen roared, "Do I look like some cheap alleyway hooker to you!?"
"I mean… that's kinda fair, but a million's not bad," Wade replied hesitantly.
"Bullshit! I'm worth at least thirty million to start. If they offered a hundred mil, I'd happily let them choose the method of my death. But I want fifty percent."
"You shameless bastard! Thirty million!? Why not just rob them outright?"
Wade scoffed. "Who do you think you are, Batman?"
"Damn right I'm robbing them. Nanaue—grab him!"
At Allen's command, Nanaue lunged forward and tackled Wade.
Allen stepped up and began patting Wade down.
"Stop, you perv! Don't grope me like that!" Wade squirmed and protested, but there was no escaping Nanaue's overwhelming strength.
"Got it."
Allen fished out a phone.
It was embedded into Wade's suit—a tech device directly linked to his AI, Unita, which could remotely hack phones via wireless signals.
"I want to see who's so bored they put a hit on me."
Allen gave the order: "Unita, initiate contact with the employer and trace their location."
"Yes, Commander."
…
Meanwhile, in a luxury villa, Lilith lay comfortably on a plush sofa, watching the news on an enormous TV screen.
"Recently, Batman made a public appearance to deny the scandal—this Gotham knight's first time facing the press…"
"The official news department has begun legal proceedings over the Westview incident. The case is now in the evidence collection stage."
"Gotham's popular mayoral candidate Arthur vows to crack down on the city's costumed freaks, with an ultimate goal of eliminating so-called superheroes."
…
News after news left Lilith feeling like America was a country out of a fantasy novel.
Superheroes, the champions of justice, were facing lawsuits, while the public focused on their romantic scandals. And somehow, even former criminals were running for mayor.
Frankly, there was no country on Earth quite like America.
Ring ring…
A call appeared on her phone, sitting on the tea table—an unfamiliar number.
Lilith instantly realized it must be the hired assassin, Deadpool.
In today's mercenary world, the two most famous names were Deathstroke and Deadpool. The former charged sky-high fees, was extremely professional, and had a full support team. The latter worked solo, had an excellent success rate, and offered great value for money.
As the progenitor of the vampire race, Lilith didn't care about money. The issue was that Deathstroke refused the job.
Which made sense—he'd encountered Allen in Gotham before. Had he not let Allen go, he might be rotting in Blackgate Prison now.
Given Allen's combat record, Deathstroke knew better than to poke that hornet's nest.
Deadpool, on the other hand, accepted without hesitation.
"Hello? Is it done?" Lilith asked instinctively.
"Sorry, boss. I think the price is too low."
The voice on the line was Allen's, mimicking Wade via an AI-generated voice model.
Lilith's eyes turned sharp. She didn't mind negotiation—but flip-flopping was unacceptable.
"Why?"
"The target is my former classmate, roommate, and best friend," Allen replied.
"You're backing out?" Lilith asked coldly.
"Nope. I just want more money."
Allen explained, "Allen isn't just handsome—he's insanely strong, with tons of friends. In the Justice League, he's close with Batman, Green Arrow, and Wonder Woman. In the Avengers, he's tight with Cap, Iron Man, Black Widow, and Wanda. If I killed him, all the girls who pine for him would hunt me across the globe. We're talking Wonder Woman, Mystique, Wanda, Black Widow, Jean Grey, Agatha Harkness… the list goes on. The risk far outweighs the reward."
[Are you sure those women wouldn't be throwing a party the moment he dies?]
Possibly just Allen flattering himself.
"How much?" Lilith asked with a dark expression.
"Friendship price: fifty million. Not a cent less."
Lilith paused for a moment. "Fine. You'll get the cash tonight."
She'd already paid a million as a deposit. If she haggled now, it'd look bad. But deep down, her killing intent was rising.
There were plenty of assassins in the world—Deadpool wasn't the only option.
Worst case, she could post a contract with the High Table in New York, which claimed to control 90% of the world's assassins.
Still, Lilith hated being played with—and she intended to make someone pay.
Little did she know, Unita had already traced her location through the signal source.