Washington D.C..
In an apartment messier than a junkyard, Wade Wilson, also known as Deadpool, was sprawled across the sofa in a highly undignified posture.
His feet were propped up towards the ceiling, his head almost submerged in a trash can filled with overnight pizza boxes.
On his phone screen, the numbers shimmering with a divine glow, [$250,000.00], were being scrutinized repeatedly.
Each time he looked, he let out a sharp, dolphin-like laugh.
"Voiceover man! Did you see it! Did you see it!"
He yelled at the empty ceiling.
"I'm rich! I no longer have to sell my looks to buy a double-cheese Mexico burrito! Not that I have any looks to sell! Hahaha!"
He sprang up from the sofa with a backflip, the force of which knocked over a mountain of empty beer cans stacked nearby.
There was a clatter of noise.
"First thing!"
He held up a finger, his expression as serious as if he were announcing his candidacy for President.
"I'm going to buy Mexico tortillas! Not one! Not a dozen! I'm going to buy that tortilla food truck parked at the corner, run by a bearded Mexico guy named Jose! I'm going to make him serve only me from now on!"
No sooner said than done.
Wade didn't even bother to change out of his red and black uniform, stained with unknown substances and gunpowder, before kicking open the door and rushing out like the wind.
Ten minutes later.
At a street corner in Washington D.C., Mexico chef Jose watched everything unfolding before him with wide eyes.
A lunatic in a red and black bodysuit was stuffing bundles of brand-new U.S. dollar bills into his arms, looking less like he was buying something and more like a bank robber forcibly distributing loot.
"Take it! It's all yours! From today on, you, your truck, and all the tortillas you make, are mine!"
Wade stood on the food truck's hood, arms spread wide, yelling at the onlookers like a third-rate rock star.
"See that! This is the power of money! This is the love of a 'sugar daddy'!"
He grabbed a handful of steaming hot tortillas and scattered them into the air like a celestial maiden strewing flowers.
"Eat! Mortals! Enjoy yourselves! Today's tab is on Young Master Wade!"
The entire block erupted into a bizarre carnival, people scrambling for the food raining down from above, no one caring who the madman on the truck roof really was.
Scenes like this played out every now and then in Washington, and everyone was long used to it.
After a hearty meal, and after forcibly making Master Jose custom-make him a "Pure Gold Leaf Luxury Surf and Turf Supreme Diamond-Encrusted Tortilla" (the diamonds were fake, of course), Wade finally remembered he had important business to attend to.
He let out a satisfied burp and pulled out the crumpled PDF printout from a pocket in his uniform.
"Alright, celebration's over, now it's work time."
He muttered to himself, trying to put on a professional expression, but the Mexico hot sauce at the corner of his mouth made him look comical and sloppy.
"Target: Jackson Awad. Alias: Green Power Bank. Ability: Suck, suck, suck. Mission: Make him disappear from the face of the earth."
He read William's information word for word.
"Last sighted… East Harlem Art Park. That's where poor Arc Kid was drained dry. Tsk tsk, what a sad story. Hope he bought our company's insurance."
He patted his backside, jumped down from the food truck, and waved at Master Jose.
"Old Jose, drive the truck to my apartment building. I want to see a throne made of tortillas when I get back! Understand?!"
Deadpool, picking his teeth with a toothpick, admired the distant monument.
"Hmm, Washington is pretty nice,"
he muttered to himself, his voice a bored rasp.
"Full of stone buildings and guys in suits, practically my opposite."
"But that damn author has given me a new mission, saying some 'Art Park' in New York needs an artwork like me to save it."
"Alright, old friend, I'm off to New York. If I come back next time, I'll bring you some cheeseburgers. Provided, of course, I don't turn into a duck or a pile of broken Lego bricks during the teleportation."
He adjusted the knob on his belt.
A blinding blue light instantly erupted, accompanied by a "fwoosh," like a giant bubble bursting.
When the light dissipated, only a faint smell of charring remained on the gargoyle's head, along with a few scattered crumbs of Mexico tortilla chips, their origin unknown, drifting in the wind.
East Harlem Art Park.
Arc Kid's death was officially categorized as an "extreme violent robbery."
No one would believe the truth was that a monster had drained him of his life energy.
Wade swaggered through the park.
Instead of crouching down to look for clues like a traditional detective, he directly jumped onto the head of a goddess statue in the center of the park.
"Hey! Hello! Friends below! Look here!"
He used a traffic cone he picked up from the roadside as a megaphone, shouting at the scattered passersby in the park.
"I, Mr. Deadpool, the great, handsome, and non-clingy master of my craft, am holding a prize quiz!"
"Has anyone seen a pervert in a green fluorescent bodysuit? About this tall,"
He gestured.
"Might look a bit ugly, and likes to drool over glowing things?"
Passersby looked at him, then quickly moved away as if avoiding a plague.
"Hey! Don't go! Anyone who provides a valid clue gets a lifetime free Mexico tortilla voucher!" Wade continued to shout, "Or if you want to date me, that's fine too! I'm not picky!"
His voice echoed in the empty park, sounding particularly jarring and neurotic.
Just a few hundred meters away, in a high-rise apartment, a man stood by the floor-to-ceiling window, coldly watching the red dot below, bouncing around like a Joker.
Jackson Awad.
Arc Kid didn't have much energy.
He could feel his body craving more "food."
Although the two prey from last night tasted good, they were a bit difficult to take down.
This displeased him somewhat.
And now, the red lunatic downstairs was emitting a… a very strange and tempting energy fluctuation.
It was a continuous, inexhaustible life force.
Like a bonfire that would never go out, full of raw, chaotic vitality.
"Another dinner delivered to my doorstep."
Jackson's face twisted into a greedy smile.
He liked prey that willingly jumped out, as it saved him the trouble of searching.
He pushed open the window, his body, like a weightless leaf, silently glided towards the park.
He would deliver a fatal blow to this noisy fellow from behind, just as he had dealt with the girl who used light blades.
Then he would slowly enjoy this unexpected feast.
He controlled the sound of the wind to be almost nonexistent, his figure swiftly moving through the shadows of the buildings.
He had already reached the back of the statue, less than five meters from the red figure still talking to himself with a traffic cone.
He raised his hand, and in his palm, the eerie starlight that had devoured light blades and spider silk began to condense, preparing to launch a fatal sneak attack.
Three meters.
Two meters.
One meter.
Just as he was about to touch his target.
The red and black figure didn't even turn his head, merely raised a hand lazily and waved it backward.
"I say, buddy, if you want an autograph and a photo, just say so. Trying to sneak up on me from behind like that is a bit uncouth, don't you think?"
"Also, your taste in clothes is terrible. Green bodysuit? Are you trying to cosplay a moldy banana?"
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