Dealing with failed specimens might have been easy in the past, but with Wade as he was now, it was truly difficult.
The workers responsible for terminating the test subjects tried every possible method, from kitchen knives to chainsaws, from heavy machine guns to laser weapons. Even when they threw Wade into an incinerator and roasted him alive, he simply would not die.
That guy even chatted with The Nonexistent Audience amid the flames, claiming he was performing a stunt where an oven roasted him and asking for donations.
With no other choice, since they could not kill him and could not simply throw him out, they had to find somewhere to lock him up.
So Wade was anesthetized and transferred to a secret black-site prison. It was utterly devoid of daylight, and besides him, several other bizarre failed experiments were imprisoned there as well.
Each person had a cell with a bed and a toilet. It was not completely inhumane confinement either; the prison provided Wade with a huge stack of girly magazines in exchange for him talking as little as possible.
There was no helping it. If they did not give him something to do—even something like jerking himself off—he would loudly chat with the prison guards and drive them insane with endless nonsense.
After being locked up for about a week, he had already driven an entire company insane. Whenever people looked at his face, like a rotten asshole, and then heard that smug, irritating voice of his, their minds would often go blank, their thoughts unable to connect.
Magazines in exchange for quiet—that was a deal, and a Mercenary was never satisfied with a deal.
"I guess I look like a human hot dog right now, the kind slathered in yellow mustard."
Wade lay on the