USA, New York City.
A guy whose body looked like it had suffered a tenth-degree burn lay on the sofa, sighing.
Everyone said the power of credit was infinite, so why was his credit card balance so low?
Forget it, forget it. Let's see if there are any jobs I can take.
Even if it's just finding cats or catching dogs, at least it would solve his immediate financial crisis.
Thinking this, Wade pulled out his phone and started dialing numbers one by one according to his contact list.
Then he was hung up on one by one.
Finally, one call connected successfully. Wade was overjoyed and glanced at the name: Matt Murdock.
"Hello, is that my half-brother, Matt?"
Hearing Wade's voice, the person on the other end replied without hesitation: "No, you have the wrong person. Goodbye."
"Wait, wait, wait!"
Wade quickly stopped him: "I just wanted to ask if you have any cases right now that need my help. The price is absolutely discounted."
"Cases..."
On the other end of the phone, the man wearing sunglasses and holding a white cane gently stroked the recorder in front of him.
He did have a rather tricky case, and he couldn't spare the time to investigate it.
But whether to entrust it to this unreliable guy, Deadpool, he had to consider carefully.
"Yes, cases."
Wade chattered on: "You've seen my efficiency. Except in bed and in the restroom, even The Flash would call me 'Dad.' Oh, you probably haven't seen me in bed or in the restroom. If you don't mind, next time..."
"Enough!"
Matt decisively interrupted the buzzing fly in his ear: "I do have a case, currently without evidence, it's about a priest."
"What? Those guys in priestly robes are messing with cute little boys again?"
Matt really wanted to refute Wade and clear the church's name, but he couldn't.
Because this time, that was exactly what it was about.
"I'll send you the information immediately. Remember! I'm only asking you to find evidence, not to commit crimes, and certainly not to kill anyone!"
"Of course! So..."
Wade rubbed his hands: "About the remuneration..."
"Five hundred U.S. dollars."
"How much?"
Wade dug in his ear, wondering if he had misheard.
Matt repeated: "Five hundred U.S. dollars."
Wade was furious: "Only five hundred U.S. dollars? Are you trying to pay a beggar?"
"Four hundred fifty U.S. dollars."
"I..."
"Four hundred U.S. dollars."
"Stop, stop, stop! Don't lower it anymore, I'll take it, I'll take it!"
It turned out that someone was even worse off than a beggar.
Hearing this, Matt hung up the phone without hesitation, afraid that talking for another second would infect him with the silly virus transmitted through the wireless signal.
Wade, meanwhile, lay lazily on the sofa, adjusted his crotch, and began to read the file Matt had sent him.
Dear Father Sama, I'm coming~
...Stop.
Before the story officially unfolds, as per custom, let's first insert an introduction to the protagonist.
His name is Wade, not only the Wade of Wade Wilson, but also Wade, whose surname is Wei and given name is De.
That's right, he is a transmigrator, and in his previous life, he was a Chinese person.
His transmigration was quite cliché; in his last life, he was hit by a truck, and then his soul floated and floated, until it reached a girl in a blue dress with blue hair, who called herself the Goddess of Wisdom.
The girl told him that he could choose not to reincarnate, but instead transmigrate into a random Superhero, thus breaking free from his mortal body and becoming a Superhero who punishes evil and promotes good.
Listen, who could refuse that?
A Superhero!
I was so foolish, really. (Xianglin's Wife's tone.)
I only knew that among Superheroes, there would be popular figures like Batman, Iron Man, Captain America, and Superman, who would be admired by countless people; I didn't know that Deadpool counted too.
Actually, thinking back now, his name is Wade, and Deadpool is also Wade.
Everything was simply destined.
This is fate!
His head had already nodded, so struggling was useless. Wade, a well-rounded young man who could recite the Eight Honors and Eight Shames and the core socialist values backward, thus transmigrated into Deadpool.
You thought that was it?
Deadpool, besides his somewhat mangled face, still had impressive combat skills—slicing bullets with his sword—and an undying superpower, which was perfectly fine for upholding justice.
As for the damage to his reputation, the well-rounded young man Wade said it was just a minor inconvenience.
Give him some time, and he guaranteed he could gradually reverse the world's impression of him, and perhaps even sow a few seeds of socialism in the evil USA, where the U.S. dollar reigned supreme.
Thinking about it made him a little excited.
He swore, he really thought that way before.
I was so foolish, really. (Xianglin's Wife x 2)
Soul transmigration, after all, is just stuffing one's consciousness into the original body, a cuckoo taking over a magpie's nest.
Wade was originally unwilling, after all, how was that different from murder?
And he was killing a Superhe... hero! (Gritting teeth.jpg)
But the Goddess of Wisdom explained to him that the transmigration targets were either already dead or in a state of complete loss of consciousness. His transmigration wasn't harming anyone; rather, in a way, it was saving them.
He thought about it, and it seemed to make sense, so he agreed.
The above conversation happened before the Superhero for transmigration was chosen—meaning Wade didn't yet know he would become Deadpool.
So, here's the problem.
How could the immortal Deadpool be dead or without consciousness?
The answer is simple.
He was killed.
And he died terribly, so terribly that even his healing ability required a countdown to recover.
So, a new problem arose.
After his consciousness entered Deadpool's body, would Deadpool's body continue to revive its previous consciousness?
The answer is yes.
From then on, the two consciousnesses merged, and Wade Wilson, whose surname was Wei and given name was De, was born... Bang!
On the rooftop, two gunshots rang out almost simultaneously, followed by the sound of a heavy object falling.
Boom!
The locked rooftop door was violently blown off its hinges. Colossus, his entire body a silvery metallic color, ducked through the doorway, looked around, scanned the two bodies lying on the ground, and stared grimly at one of them: "Wade, you killed someone again!"
"No, Piotr, that's slander!"
Deadpool, dressed in a red and black tight-fitting suit, rubbed the hole in his head as he got up, picking up the pistol that had fallen to the ground: "This was a sacred duel, one shot each, fair, just, and open. You wouldn't find a fairer gamble even if you searched all of Las Vegas."
Seeing that Colossus didn't believe him, Deadpool held the gun to his own Sun: "If you don't think that's enough, I can even give him another shot."
Colossus crossed his arms over his chest, watching Deadpool's performance coldly.
"What are you waiting for?"
Seeing Colossus standing silently, Deadpool tilted his head like a curious child.
Colossus said blandly: "I'm waiting for you to give him another shot."
Anyway, this guy couldn't Death, so if he 'committed suicide,' it would save him some effort.
"Oh! You've changed, Piotr."
Deadpool covered his mouth with one hand, shaking his head in disbelief. He moved the gun from his Sun and fired a shot at the corpse next to him with a bang.
The bullet accurately struck between the corpse's legs, splattering blood.
"Nice! As expected of me!"