In an abandoned factory, a gang of mobsters unleashed a frenzied barrage of gunfire at a man.
Under the dense hail of bullets, the cold-faced man slashed rapidly with the twin blades in his hands, turning them into an impenetrable barrier in front of him.
Clang, clang, clang!
Sparks flew as blades collided with bullets, and bullets sliced in half shot back toward the crowd.
In an instant, several men were struck by the wildly scattering bullet fragments and fell into pools of blood.
Hearing the commotion, Mark leaped onto a small rooftop structure and crouched down to peer inside.
The familiar display instantly brought an incredibly obnoxious bastard to mind.
Unlike the version he remembered, this bastard hadn't been disfigured yet, nor had he gained immortality.
Still, Mark couldn't be completely sure.
After all, according to the Marvel Universe's ten laws, ordinary firearms sat at the very bottom of the power scale. That bastard wasn't the only person who could slice bullets with a blade.
To test his suspicions, Mark watched the battle inside the factory intensify, then vaulted into the fray.
Quick Movement!
Jumping!
Dodge!
Activating several skills in succession, Mark instantly became a blur.
Bang, bang, bang!
Amid the barrage, Mark darted through the battlefield, dropping one goon with every punch.
"No!"
"What kind of freak is this..."
The gangsters cried out one after another, then instinctively concentrated their fire on the newly arrived Mark.
With all that fire focused on him, Mark struggled to dodge every incoming bullet, but the Demon Hunter Set's defensive properties completely absorbed their impact.
Clang, clang, clang...
Bullets struck Mark with the ringing clash of metal and showers of sparks, yet his movements never slowed.
And thanks to Mark's arrival, the bastard with the twin blades finally found an opening.
"Hey, buddy, are you trying to steal my business?"
He glanced at Mark tearing through the opposition and, refusing to be outdone, launched himself into the crowd.
Shhk, shhk, shhk!
"Aah!"
Screams echoed one after another until the last gangster fell into a pool of blood.
In the dimly lit factory, the bastard spun around with a flourish and pointed both blades at Mark.
He sized up Mark's strange outfit and spoke with a cold expression.
"This job is mine. Unless you want a blade in your private parts, I suggest you leave right now."
Mark stopped and folded his arms, studying him.
"You're a mercenary?" he asked.
The bastard nodded. "You too?"
"No."
"Then you're just here for revenge."
"More or less."
As Mark spoke, he kicked away a gangster who hadn't quite died yet.
"I'm going to tear Hell's Kitchen apart tonight. I'm hiring you to come with me."
"Hell's Kitchen?"
Wade's eyes lit up. "How much are you going to pay me?"
Mark slowly raised his thumb without saying a word.
Wade ventured a guess. "Ten thousand?"
Mark shook his head.
"A hundred thousand?" Wade tried again.
Mark shook his head again.
Wade grew a little excited. "Don't tell me it's a million?"
Mark shook his head once more.
He grinned. "I'll give you a thumbs-up."
Wade: "..."
"You cheeky little cheapskate. I'm not a toy for your amusement!"
Cursing, he sheathed his blades, found the bag the gangsters had left behind, and prepared to leave without a second thought.
But something Mark suddenly blurted out stopped Wade in his tracks.
"I know Spider-Man."
"What?"
Wade turned around. "Spider-Man?"
"Yes." Mark nodded.
"The original Unknown Evil Entity, Spider-Man?" Wade asked again.
"That's right."
"The Spider-Man who defeated the Lizard Monster and saved that innocent girl?"
"That's right."
"The Spider-Man who survived the ruins of Osborn Tower?"
"That's right."
"The Spider-Man who killed Green Goblin and bowed out after a job well done?"
"That's right."
"Oh. What's that got to do with me?"
Wade rolled his eyes.
Mark: "!!!!"
"You're Wade Wilson," he said, confirming it once more.
"That's me."
Wade's gaze grew wary. "You've been investigating me."
Mark shook his head. "No. I've just heard of you."
"You should have heard of me. I'm the best mercenary there is."
Wade looked proud. "A one-man operation."
"So, are you coming with me?" Mark asked. "I know you're a Spider-Man fan. I can introduce you."
"Oh, shit, I'm not a fan of that guy."
Wade scoffed. "I only love myself. Well, and my girlfriend."
With that, he gave Mark a mocking look and left the factory without a backward glance.
Watching him leave, Mark blinked.
"Wait, isn't Spider-Man the one Deadpool loves most?"
Who cares about a girlfriend?
Fine! This guy hasn't become Deadpool yet, so he doesn't love Spider-Man at all.
Peter, you need to try harder.
He shook his head, then turned to search the gangsters' pockets.
Hmm. Sixty-six bucks in total.
Broke bastards!
He spat at the corpses, then leaped into the night.
Despite this being his first time killing these gangsters, Mark felt no discomfort.
Instead, it felt remarkably familiar.
Am I a born psychopath?
That was what he asked himself.
Before he knew it, Mark had finally slipped into Hell's Kitchen's territory.
On streets awash with neon and nightlife, junkies traded openly without a care.
Low moans from women and their customers drifted out of the dark roadside alleys.
The casinos lining the street were bustling, and drunken troublemakers were occasionally tossed into dumpsters.
The whole place was filthy and foul, with all kinds of crimes committed in plain sight.
The patrolling police officers merely went through the motions, turning a blind eye to everything before them.
This was a paradise of
crime, and Kingpin's kingdom.
There was only one emperor here: Kingpin!
Mark figured he probably didn't need to hide.
He walked openly down the crime-ridden street.
The Demon Hunter Set hardly counted as a strange outfit here.
Compared with the women's bikinis, Mark didn't stand out at all.
"Hey, handsome. Want to have some fun?" A woman by the roadside stepped into Mark's path.
She moved seductively, sticking out her tongue to show off her tongue stud.
"Just thirty bucks."
Mark curled his lip and pushed her aside with righteous indignation.
"Screw your mom. I read the Spring and Autumn Annals."
He still had a use for the money in his pocket.
"Twenty bucks!" The woman he had pushed aside sweetened the offer.
Mark paused and lowered the brim of his hat.
"Ten," he whispered.
The woman cursed furiously. "Fuck you, you broke bastard! For ten bucks, you can let my boyfriend have his way with you!"
She waved toward the building behind her. "Black, take care of this customer."
"Coming."
Several burly men immediately rushed out of the building and surrounded the slender Mark.
Their leader, Black, jabbed a finger out menacingly.
"A hundred bucks, you do her.
Ten bucks, I do you.
Your choice."
Mark looked shocked. "Are you discriminating against me?"
At those words, Black instinctively glanced at his Black buddy.
"No, I'm not. Don't go saying that." He sounded a little nervous.
The sensitive fellow beside him immediately erupted.
"Black, you just looked at me."
"No, I didn't. O'Neal, believe me. I didn't mean anything by it."
"I knew that story was true. You really have been bad-mouthing me behind my back."
"No, I haven't. Don't believe that guy Sean."
"Shit, you're still in touch with Sean? We promised to be each other's angels. You betrayed me!"
"No, no, no, it's not like that..."