Crack.
Just as L.J. was about to jump up and fire, a sharp bone-breaking sound echoed through the night.
Then another.
Silence followed.
"Come out. It's safe."
Peyton's voice came calmly from outside the debris pile.
L.J. slowly stood up, still gripping his MP5 tightly.
He looked around.
Two Umbrella mercenaries lay twisted on the ground at Peyton's feet.
"Damn, buddy," L.J. whispered in awe. "How did you do that?"
Peyton didn't answer directly.
"You wouldn't want to know."
He bent down, retrieved his rifle from where he had hidden it, and slung it back over his shoulder.
"Let's move."
As he walked past the two bodies, he couldn't resist kicking them twice.
"I hate this way of life."
There was no anger in his tone.
Only exhaustion.
---
On the rooftop landing area, the second and third teams regrouped behind a low concrete wall.
Carlos raised his hand, signaling the civilians to stay back.
He motioned for Nikolai, Jill, and Deadpool to follow him as they prepared to flank from behind.
They stepped out carefully—
Then—
A small shadow darted behind them.
It knocked into an empty bottle.
"Dong."
The sound was crisp and clear in the silent night.
Bang!
A mercenary at the rear snapped around instantly.
His nerves were already stretched thin.
Without even confirming the target, he pulled the trigger.
The muzzle flashed brilliantly.
Nikolai saw the barrel swing toward him.
He saw the flame bloom.
He saw death.
Carlos tried to shove him aside.
Too slow.
The bullet was already there.
Then—
A red blur flashed in front of Nikolai.
A silver streak flickered.
The bullet split cleanly in half.
Two fragments whizzed past.
Thud.
Carlos tackled Nikolai down, and the two rolled back behind cover.
The other mercenaries reacted immediately.
They opened fire in coordinated bursts.
Bullets hammered the wall.
Concrete chips exploded outward.
They weren't dealing with zombies.
They weren't dealing with amateurs.
These were trained Umbrella mercenaries.
They split seamlessly into three squads.
Two teams alternated suppressive fire, ensuring no simultaneous reload gaps.
The third team began flanking from the side.
If the encirclement closed—
They were dead.
"What now?" Jill shouted over the gunfire.
Deadpool calmly drew both swords.
"Watch me."
"You're not seriously planning to charge them?" Nikolai hissed.
Moments ago, slicing a single bullet had been impressive.
Now?
Hundreds of rounds per minute.
Charging out would be suicide.
Jill remained silent.
She had seen something the others hadn't.
Deadpool had survived a heavy machine gun fired by Nemesis.
As long as his head stayed intact—
He wasn't going down easily.
Deadpool rolled his eyes.
"Of course not."
Just because he couldn't die easily didn't mean he enjoyed pain.
He gripped one sword tightly.
Then—
With his free hand—
He reached into the waistband of his suit.
And yanked.
A piece of white, tattered cloth emerged dramatically.
"What is that?" Carlos asked.
The mercenaries paused slightly as something rose above the enemy's cover.
It was—
A pair of white, tattered underwear.
Raised high on the tip of a glowing katana.
On the waistband, a faded red circular pattern was barely visible.
Behind the wall, Nikolai stared blankly.
"…What is this?"
Deadpool answered confidently.
"Probably the French flag."
Even Jill looked disturbed.
"So you wear white underwear just for this moment?"
Deadpool grew offended.
"What do you know?!"
He waved the sword proudly, letting the underwear flutter in the wind.
"I am uniting my favorite flag with the most important part of my body. This is love! Pure love!"
Jill: …
Carlos: …
Nikolai: …
They silently decided not to ask further questions.
Deadpool raised his voice.
"Attention, honorable gentlemen shooting at us!"
He waved the underwear higher.
"We have raised the white flag!"
"You know what this means!"
"You should immediately stop firing, lay down your weapons, accept our surrender, and provide us with appropriate prisoner待遇—fine wine, luxury villas, sports cars, and at least three hot girls each!"
"As long as our conditions are met, we promise not to resist, escape, or complain during detention!"
"Otherwise—"
His voice deepened dramatically.
"You will regret it!!!"
The mercenaries stared.
Then—
Gunfire intensified.
From behind them.
Da-da-da-da-da!
Bullets tore through Umbrella ranks.
Alice had arrived.
She attacked from the rear like a phantom.
"Fire!" Carlos roared.
The moment suppressive fire weakened, he popped up and sprayed controlled bursts.
Nikolai and Jill followed instantly.
Caught in a pincer attack—
Umbrella's formation collapsed.
Within seconds—
The rooftop was theirs.
---
Alice was the first to board the helicopter.
But once inside—
Her expression changed.
This wasn't a transport setup.
There were no passenger seats.
Instead—
Medical equipment.
Restraint devices.
Monitoring systems.
It wasn't evacuation.
It was containment.
Fragments of memory flickered in her mind.
Experiments.
Needles.
Cold rooms.
"No…" she whispered.
She jumped down immediately.
A bright spotlight suddenly flooded the rooftop.
The helicopter was illuminated completely.
Clap. Clap. Clap.
Applause echoed through the night.
A man stepped forward from the shadows.
Dr. Alexander Cain.
Behind him—
A massive figure emerged.
Heavy footsteps shook the ground.
On his shoulder—
A single-person rocket launcher.
More than a dozen heavily armed mercenaries surrounded them.
Cain smiled calmly.
"What a wonderful duel."
He gestured lightly.
The rocket launcher tilted slightly toward the helicopter.
One command—
And their escape would become flaming debris.
Alice stepped back toward the group.
Nine people.
Surrounded.
Facing Umbrella's executive.
Facing a rocket launcher.
The night felt colder.
Deadpool tilted his head slightly.
"Well," he muttered softly.
"This escalated quickly."
The missile countdown continued.
Dawn was near.
And now—
Umbrella had arrived in person.
-----------------------------
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