Bang!
With a sharp swing of his blade, Deadpool forced back a Licker that had lunged toward him from the ceiling. The creature shrieked, claws scraping sparks from the tiled floor as it tried to regain balance. Before it could retreat, Deadpool smoothly raised one of his golden Desert Eagles and pulled the trigger.
The .50 caliber bullet punched clean through the Licker's thick, exposed thigh muscle.
Foul reddish-brown blood sprayed across the corridor walls.
The monster's leg buckled instantly.
Its long tongue snapped forward, aiming for Deadpool's wrist like a whip. But he twisted sideways with unnatural flexibility, letting the tongue lash empty air. In the same motion, he spun and slashed backward.
The blade's tip pierced straight into the Licker's exposed brain.
The creature froze mid-hiss.
Then dropped.
The final Licker saw what happened and immediately turned to flee down the corridor.
Deadpool clicked his tongue.
"Nope."
He sheathed his sword in one smooth motion and drew both golden Desert Eagles. After a stylish spin that would have made a Hollywood stuntman jealous, he opened fire.
In the narrow hallway, the Licker had nowhere to run.
Bullets thundered.
Muzzle flashes lit the walls in bursts of orange light.
The creature's body jerked violently under the relentless fire until it finally collapsed, riddled with holes.
Behind them, the classroom zombies staggered into the hallway.
Strangely, they ignored Deadpool—the closer target—and instead stretched their decaying hands toward L.J.
"Hey! Why me?!" L.J. shouted.
Deadpool calmly holstered his pistols, bent slightly, and pulled a short knife from his ankle. He moved behind each zombie with casual efficiency and stabbed upward into the base of their skulls.
One.
Two.
Three.
Each fell silently.
He wiped the blade on a torn curtain and slid it back into place.
L.J. stood frozen.
He opened his mouth to speak.
Nothing came out.
Deadpool noticed and shyly cupped his masked cheeks.
"Hurry up, buddy. I know I'm charming, but now's not the time to fall in love. The gunshots might attract more ugly friends."
L.J.: w(ﾟДﾟ)w
Deadpool: (* /ω＼*)
"Oh! Right. OK!"
L.J. jogged after him, heart pounding.
At first, he felt lucky.
Extremely lucky.
He had found himself beside someone who could slice and shoot through monsters like they were paper.
But then—
Something clicked in his mind.
What had Deadpool said earlier in the car?
L.J.'s brain began replaying the conversation.
Deadpool once had a friend.
That friend also carried two beautiful, gold-plated .50 caliber Desert Eagles.
Later…
He died.
Deadpool had been there.
He had tried to save him.
But in the end, he only saved the guns.
L.J. swallowed.
So…
Would he also "tragically" die here in this dangerous school, while Deadpool tried his "best" and just happened to rescue only his Desert Eagles?
Deadpool had even said there would be a chance to meet his old friend.
At the time, L.J. thought it was grief talking.
Now?
A cold shiver ran down his spine.
He shook his head hard.
No.
That was ridiculous.
Right?
He looked up—
Deadpool was standing a few meters ahead, head tilted slightly, staring at him with confusion.
When their eyes met, Deadpool gave him a friendly nod and a thumbs up.
Gulp.
Maybe… it wasn't ridiculous at all.
---
A minute later, Deadpool kicked open another classroom door.
His two golden Desert Eagles spun dramatically in his hands as he swept the room.
Clear.
He blew imaginary smoke from the barrels and stepped back into the hallway.
"Next room!"
He couldn't hide his excitement.
"I really love these two Desert Eagles."
The weight felt perfect.
The balance was smooth.
Truthfully, when L.J. had first insisted on giving him the guns, Deadpool had resisted.
A gentleman does not take what another cherishes.
That principle was carved deep into Wade's soul. Even after everything he had become, some lines still existed.
If he wanted something, he would obtain it through "proper" methods.
Like inheritance.
But L.J. had been stubborn.
He had claimed he admired Deadpool.
Called himself a super fan.
Said Deadpool had to accept the exchange or he would refuse to leave and instead wait to be vaporized by the nuclear missile to prove his sincerity.
Deadpool had no choice.
He could not bear to see a vibrant young man commit such foolishness.
So he reluctantly… accepted the exchange.
Yes.
Reluctantly.
Fame truly was a burden.
As the so-called "Marvel Jesus," overly passionate fans could be troublesome.
---
He pushed open the next door.
The art classroom.
Easels stood scattered across the room.
Paintings half-finished.
Crayons on the floor.
And in the center—
A group of child-sized figures crouched around a corpse.
They were eating their teacher.
When the door opened, they slowly turned their heads.
Small faces.
Covered in blood.
Eyes empty.
Even Deadpool went quiet for half a second.
"Damn the Umbrella Corporation."
The company responsible for the outbreak.
The creator of monsters like Nemesis.
The architect of this nightmare.
He closed his eyes.
For once, no jokes.
He relied on instinct alone.
Gunshots echoed softly.
Precise.
Controlled.
When he opened his eyes again, the child zombies lay still.
From the corner of the classroom, behind a crude easel—
A small voice spoke.
"Are you here to find me?"
L.J.'s eyes widened.
"Are you Angela?"
"Yes."
Angela Ashford crawled out slowly.
She couldn't have been more than thirteen or fourteen.
L.J. stared at her.
Then at the easel.
Then at the dead zombies.
"How…?"
How had they not noticed her?
Angela looked up at Deadpool, remembering his flawless shooting.
"Are you a superhero?"
Deadpool holstered his guns.
"Yes, sweetie."
He crouched slightly.
"Do you like superheroes?"
"Of course."
She stepped forward and grabbed his hand without hesitation.
Deadpool gently picked her up and lightly pinched her nose.
"Then you must have a lot in common with a certain old friend's daughter."
"What's your superhero name?"
"Deadpool."
She blinked.
"That's a strange name."
"If you don't like it," he replied seriously, "you can call me Delicious Pants Captain."
Angela burst into laughter.
"There's no such strange name!"
L.J., however, turned serious.
"Wade… can I ask something?"
"Sure."
"Your old friend… is he doing well?"
Deadpool's voice grew quieter.
"He died. A very heroic death."
He remembered Wolverine.
Logan.
The man who had endured pain longer than anyone should.
A warrior until the end.
A hero's twilight.
A tragic end.
For once, Deadpool did not smile.
L.J. nodded slowly.
"…I understand."
His Desert Eagles had not been exchanged lightly.
---
Bang! Bang!
Gunshots echoed from deeper within the school.
Deadpool's head snapped toward the sound.
"That's from the cafeteria," Angela said quickly.
Deadpool adjusted his grip on the girl.
"Let's go."
They hurried down the corridor.
Based on what he knew, someone from the Umbrella Biohazard Countermeasure Service (U.B.C.S.) should be operating in this area.
The same organization that had deployed mercenaries like Carlos Oliveira into the city.
If the timeline was shifting…
Then someone might already be in danger.
As they approached the cafeteria doors—
A scream rang out.
Followed by snarling.
Deadpool kicked the door open.
Inside, two zombie dogs pinned a soldier to the ground.
The man fired wildly, but his magazine clicked empty.
Deadpool reacted instantly.
Two shots.
Two clean head explosions.
The dogs dropped.
The soldier lay there, breathing hard, staring up in disbelief.
Deadpool extended a hand.
"You're welcome."
The man hesitated before grabbing it.
"U.B.C.S.," he muttered.
"Yeah, yeah," Deadpool replied. "Cool acronym. Work on the branding later."
He helped the soldier stand.
Angela clung to his shoulder.
L.J. glanced between the bodies, the soldier, and Deadpool.
The plot had changed.
Things were happening earlier.
Faster.
Outside—
In the far distance—
A low rumble vibrated through the air.
The missile countdown continued.
Time was running out.
And somewhere beyond the school walls—
Nemesis was still hunting.
--------------------------------
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