Whoosh~!
Whoosh~! Whoosh~!
Beneath the eaves of a shabby wooden cabin, abandoned for who knew how long, in these desolate woods in eastern America, a strange man in an equally tattered red-and-black bodysuit was sharpening his single-edged sword. One arm, half a leg, half his face, and patches of his torso were exposed.
That was right. He was Deadpool, Wade Winston Wilson—the man who had drenched this universe, or rather, this universe's Earth, in blood!
Although the terrifying blade in his hand was riddled with chips of all sizes, he kept doggedly grinding it back and forth against a whetstone he'd picked up from who knew what stream. It seemed he was planning to turn the battered sword into a sharp blade with serrated teeth?
Whoosh~! Whoosh~!
"Great! Nice and sharp. Looks like it's just about ready to chop some poor bastard's head off..."
He kept sharpening for a while longer. He even brought the blade down and lopped off one of his own little fingers. Only after watching a new finger slowly grow back from the bloody wound on his palm did Wade, having tested the blade on himself, give a reluctant nod. He figured it was sharp enough now.
"Yoo-hoo..."
"Let's see... Who should I go chop up next?"
"The Bear Shield Agency is basically leaderless now, and there aren't many worthwhile targets left. The Avengers are only missing that pretty little Carol and the little girl who's hiding in some other world. That'll probably take a while..."
"The X-Men are all wiped out. They were way too easy to kill. Professor X is dead, and I blew up his school with my own genius..."
"The Mutants are pretty much all dead, and I've probably chopped up most of the aliens who came to Earth, too, right?"
"Those