By then, Deadpool had already left the waterworks. He found a modestly sized apartment building, sat on the edge of the rooftop seven stories up, swung his legs, and looked down at the street below.
The people of this world were far too innocent and trusting. They were all eager to help others, which also caused the spores to spread incredibly fast.
"Let me help you!"
Someone tried to help an infected person who had fallen by the roadside, but the instant the latter got up, his head split open, spraying a large amount of yellow fluid all over the helper's face.
Thus, this young man who had wanted to help someone else became a living corpse within seconds.
This was not an isolated case. Wade had seen far too many of them. Humanity in this world had never experienced any kind of crisis, nor did they know how to deal with one. Being thrown straight into facing an unfamiliar species like zombies was truly beyond them.
"Ah, they're all good people. I still feel pretty guilty about killing them." Deadpool held a cigarette between his lips beneath his mask. Tilting his head, he lit it and took a drag, then crossed one leg over the other. "Even though I didn't kill them with my own hands, they died because of me. Whenever I think about that, I just..."
His expression was exceptionally pained, making The Nonexistent Audience curious. It seemed as though many people were asking questions:
"."
"Whenever I think about that, I get an idea. I can ask Cousin for money! Have him pay extra to cover my emotional damages. Five hundred should do it, haha!"
He was not grieving for those innocent victims. Quite the opposite—in his capacity as a Mercenary, he was good at finding