Taskmaster turned and walked away. As always, he wanted to leave that foul-smelling, moldy Mercenary behind him.
It was not because they had a bad relationship. Quite the opposite—he knew Wade too well. He was even the only person in the entire world who could hear the voices in Deadpool's head.
He could hear Cancer Cells corrupting Wade's brain, hear unknown entities whispering to Deadpool, and for a time, he could even hear how those viewers whom everyone else believed did not exist, but Deadpool believed did, offered Wade all kinds of terrible advice.
That period was called The Hangover.
To Taskmaster now, Wade had merely reached those few days every month again. As if he had suddenly relapsed or suddenly become normal, he always came up with strange suggestions.
Taskmaster wanted to make money, that was true, but not from a Deadpool in such an abnormal state.
Mercenaries each had their own ways. He chose to abide by a thief's code.
"If you don't agree, then only one of us is leaving here alive today." Wade suddenly sprang up behind him, raising his two blades overhead as he launched a surprise attack on Anthony. "I don't think I'll die, so—"
The twin blades flashed with cold light. Even after taking a trip through Chtylok's stomach, the Carbonadium remained sharp. The nearly inaudible whistle of the weapons cutting through the air was buried beneath Deadpool's own strange shrieks, but that was enough to warn Anthony to defend himself.
Anthony instantly drew the greatsword from his back and blocked Wade's leaping slash. The three weapons collided, scattering sparks that lit up their faces in the night.
New York's nighttime wind was always somewhat noisy. Those who had died in the snap had gained a second life, and New York was now