In the heart of a primeval forest, the heavily armed Reavers advanced slowly, guns raised and eyes sharp, alert to every shadow around them.
The newly risen sun radiated brilliant light, but in this forest, its rays couldn't pierce through the dense canopy above.
As the team pressed forward, the light grew dimmer, and the scattered birdsong faded into silence. Only the crunch of leaves and snapping twigs underfoot accompanied their march.
Following Pierce's orders, the Reavers split into multiple squads, sweeping the entire forest with flawless coverage.
They had been tracking the mutant for a long time, clashing with him a few times before — but every time, the slippery bastard escaped like an eel through their fingers.
This time, though, things were different. Pierce was done playing games, and everyone in the squad was now operating at full intensity.
Everyone here had survived the brutal war against mutants — elite soldiers who knew exactly how dangerous these maniacs could be.
Even with the advantage in numbers, they didn't dare let their guard down.
After all, the one they were hunting now was notoriously difficult to handle.
"Pimakiowin Aki Forest.
Humidity levels…"
Deep within the woods, from the shadows, a gaze locked tightly onto the Reavers.
"Slightly higher than the church pews after Sunday service."
As the soldiers drew nearer, the atmosphere became increasingly tense and grim.
"And now… silence."
"Hey," one soldier said, frowning as he turned to his companion. "He's close. I think I just heard something."
"Tch. That's my signature narration style, alright? No appreciation for art."
The second soldier blinked, clearly having heard it too. He nodded. "That loudmouth never shuts up. This time, I'm shoving my rifle down his throat!"
Before the words had even fully left his mouth, a figure suddenly burst from the ground.
In a flash of steel, two heads flew into the air like gory gourds, arcing through the mist before landing with a dull thud.
"This is what I call uniquely stylish verbal artistry!"
A man in red, dual blades in hand, remained in a killing pose, his voice cold as steel.
His audience, however, had already become lifeless, headless corpses collapsing to the forest floor.
"Deadpool! It's Deadpool!"
The other soldiers nearby instantly reacted, shouting in alarm as they swung their rifles toward him and opened fire.
"Looks like none of you know good entertainment. I'm guessing you watch the World Cup on mute. Or maybe you only watch the sign language broadcast?"
Dodging several bullets with an acrobatic leap, Deadpool darted toward the nearest soldier and drove a blade straight through his thigh.
"AARGH!"
The man screamed, only to be hoisted up as a human shield — bullets riddled his body until it was barely recognizable.
Deadpool didn't stop — nor did his monologue.
"Also—"
A flying knife hit another soldier squarely in the forehead. Deadpool spun and closed the distance with a third one in just a few steps.
"If I didn't keep talking like this, would you morons even notice me? Be honest. Who does a forest search without dogs? You're the first. Next time, at least bring a Snoopy."
With a swift slice, he severed the soldier's weapon, then plunged a second blade into the man's heart.
"Although, between dogs and cats, I'm more of a cat guy. Swear to God, if you brought Garfield with you, I would've walked out myself. That fat little guy is exactly my type."
With the last soldier down, Deadpool looked at the bodies and said with mock thoughtfulness: "Now what was I supposed to say here again…?
Oh right."
He spread his arms wide, staggering like a drunken pirate, and shouted: "Ladies and gentlemen\~ you should always remember this day!"
"Because… you almost caught the great Captain Deadpool~!"
Just as he struck a dramatic pose—
Deadpool's ears twitched.
A faint rustling came from behind him — the sound of dry leaves being crushed beneath rubber soles.
"Wade, Wade, Wade…"
Just as Deadpool began to turn, the voice came first.
"Still running your mouth, huh? Sometimes I seriously wonder — if you stayed quiet, would you just explode from the pressure?"
"Wow, wow, wow."
Deadpool spun around in an exaggerated pose, locking eyes with the approaching squad leader — Pierce. He didn't look surprised in the slightest.
"Well, well, look who it is — Donald Pierce! Tell me, weren't you supposed to be hunting down some old wolf, a bald guy in a wheelchair, and a little girl with claws?"
This wasn't Pierce's first encounter with Deadpool. After chasing him for so long, he had almost grown numb to the mercenary's nonstop chatter. He had also developed the ability to tune out the parts he couldn't even understand — it was all nonsense anyway.
Pierce frowned.
"Cut the crap, Deadpool. No amount of talking is going to change the outcome."
Deadpool twirled his blades lazily.
"Better to hear myself talk than listen to a bunch of dying men whimpering out their last words."
Pierce sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration.
"Alright, I'm running out of patience."
He took a step forward, his voice dropping into a low, serious tone.
"Listen up, Wade. I don't have time to play games with you today. I've got something way more serious waiting for me across the Pacific — something far worse than you. So I'm giving you one last chance.
I know you weren't born a mutant. You're the product of some freak experiment. Frankly, they should've made you mute while they were at it, but no matter. Join me, Wade. It's your only chance of staying alive."
Deadpool snorted.
"Mm-hmm~ Do I look like someone who'd screw over others just to survive? …Okay, I do, but I still wouldn't screw you."
Pierce's expression darkened.
"Don't you get it? There's no place left for mutants in this world. You're human — why sacrifice yourself for those mutant lunatics?"
There was a hint of genuine disappointment in his eyes. As someone who also came from a mercenary background, he had once thought there might be some potential in Deadpool.
"The X-Men are gone. The Hellfire Club? Gone. Brotherhood of Mutants? Gone. There's no force left to resist. Why can't you understand that? You're not a hero."
"Of course I'm not a hero," Deadpool replied, shrugging. "Who wants to be one? All those rules about not killing people, all that moral guilt-tripping — and don't even get me started on how bad it'd tank the box office if I suddenly turned noble."
He spread his arms, as if laying out a serious argument.
"Speaking of box office — did you know I've always wanted to rewrite my origin story? Compared to everyone else, mine's just so bland. Honestly, it feels like Rob Liefeld came up with it during a nasty bout of constipation."
"Enough."
Pierce raised his pistol, cutting Deadpool off mid-rant. He spoke each word slowly and clearly.
"You've brought this on yourself. But maybe it's for the best — if you had joined the Reavers, I'd probably die from sheer irritation."
He raised his hand, and in an instant, dozens of soldiers burst out from the surrounding forest. Each one carried heavy weaponry, their barrels aimed squarely at Deadpool, surrounding him from all sides.
"I really didn't want it to come to this, believe me."
Pierce licked his lips and sneered.
"But I'll miss your mouth, Wade."
"Wait—!"
Realizing they truly had no intention of letting him go, Deadpool quickly threw up his hands in surrender.
Seeing Deadpool's gesture, Pierce froze for a moment.
"What now?"
"If I were to join you guys," Deadpool said earnestly, "could I ask about the salary and benefits? I mean, you know me — I'm not exactly a saver. I spend money like it's going out of style."
"I'm asking sincerely here. You can't lie to me, alright? We're both in the same profession. I've been a mercenary for years, so I know what this line of work should pay."
Pierce simply shook his head mockingly.
He knew Deadpool had no intention of joining him. He was just stalling for time — trying to delay the inevitable.
"I gave you a chance, Wade. You just didn't take it."
He raised his hand again, preparing to give the signal.
"Wait, wait, wait—!"
This time, Deadpool raised both hands and shouted louder.
"What now?"
Pierce's face was clearly irritated.
"I don't have the patience to keep listening to your nonsense. It's time for you to go."
"I get it, I get it. But I'm just really curious about something," Deadpool said as he extended a finger and pointed behind Pierce.
"Those guys in black — they with you too?"
Pierce's pupils shrank sharply.
There were others here!?
As much as Wade's mouth could drive anyone insane, those who truly knew him also knew — for all the filth, nonsense, and sarcasm, Deadpool rarely lied.
Without a second's hesitation, Pierce turned around swiftly.
And in the next instant, he stood frozen.
Behind him — at some unknown point — a strange squad had appeared. They were clad in black uniforms, steel helmets on their heads, and holding glowing, baton-like weapons. They looked like something from another universe entirely.
On their chests, clearly visible, was an orange emblem — TVA.
...
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