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At the center of the rooftop plaza, the two figures stood facing each other.
The Pursuer gripped the bent streetlamp in both hands, towering and monstrous under the pale dawn light.
Deadpool stood opposite him.
He casually pulled back his hood, revealing half of his scarred, burned face—the kind that looked like it had survived a tenth-degree inferno. Completely unfazed, he stuck a finger into his ear and lazily dug around.
The Pursuer moved first.
He stepped forward heavily, the streetlamp cutting through the air with a terrifying whistle.
"Wait! We haven't said start yet!" Deadpool shouted while hopping aside. "Young man, you lack martial virtue!"
Boom!
The streetlamp smashed into the ground.
The bulb exploded.
Steel bent.
Concrete shattered beneath the impact.
Deadpool hurriedly pulled his hood back down.
"Wow. That build. That power. Give him silver paint and he could perfectly cosplay a Magician."
The Pursuer didn't respond.
He lifted the streetlamp and swung horizontally.
Deadpool leaped lightly.
His toes landed perfectly on the tip of the sweeping streetlamp.
Using the momentum, he sprang forward—
And delivered a vicious kick straight into the creature's grotesque face.
The imprint of his boot sank deep.
While rebounding backward, Deadpool flicked his wrist.
The dagger coated in Alice's blood shot forward—
And embedded deeply into The Pursuer's shoulder.
"Too bad," Deadpool said smugly. "Forget the Magician. Even the Red Tank isn't a match for your Deadpool Master."
The Pursuer staggered back several steps.
Then roared.
He slammed the streetlamp downward again.
Deadpool dodged like a dancer gliding across a stage.
The blade of his katana flashed.
Steel screamed.
A section of the streetlamp flew off.
He retreated again.
Another swing.
Another slice.
Piece by piece—
The long metal pole shortened like sugarcane being harvested.
---
Behind the arena, Jill's wrists were still bound by zip ties.
Click.
A faint snapping sound.
She pressed her hands tightly against her waist to prevent the broken plastic from dropping audibly to the ground.
Her eyes darted around.
All mercenaries were focused entirely on the fight.
Perfect.
She leaned subtly toward Alice and slipped a small concealed blade into her hand.
Alice did not react outwardly.
With a subtle flick of her finger, she sent the tiny knife sliding across the ground to Peyton's feet.
Carlos and Nikolai were already working silently at their restraints using hidden tools.
"Do you have a plan?" Jill whispered without moving her lips.
"Not yet," Alice replied.
Her eyes never left the fight.
"What was the blood for?" Jill pressed softly.
Unlike Alice, Jill had spent more time observing Deadpool.
She knew—
Under the ninety-nine percent nonsense—
He still hid a fraction—
Or even a fraction of a fraction—
Of reliability.
Alice shook her head.
"I don't know."
She genuinely didn't.
Her blood had only ever been a lab sample.
A weapon for research.
Nothing more.
But then—
Her gaze sharpened.
"The Pursuer's attack speed is slowing."
Indeed.
The swings were no longer as explosive.
The force was weakening.
Even Cain noticed.
From the sidelines, he pressed his earpiece.
"How is The Pursuer's condition?"
"Vitals normal," came the reply.
"Then why is his attack speed decreasing?"
"Stand by…"
A cold premonition crawled up Cain's spine.
In the arena—
The Pursuer raised the shortened streetlamp once more.
But mid-swing—
He released it.
The metal pole clanged against the ground.
He turned.
Looked directly at Alice.
Then—
He dropped to one knee.
Both hands clutching his head.
A horrifying scream tore from his throat.
Deadpool's eyes lit up.
Finally.
It worked.
Before becoming The Pursuer—
He had been Matt.
A teammate who entered the Hive with Alice.
The only one besides her who survived that nightmare.
Alice had felt something faint for him.
A spark.
Matt, however—
Felt far more.
An intense, painful love.
Strange.
They had only known each other half a day in the Hive.
But T-virus carriers shared a subtle connection.
Like Angela instinctively trusting Deadpool and Alice.
When Deadpool stabbed The Pursuer with the dagger coated in Alice's blood—
The merging triggered something deeper.
The connection amplified.
The dormant memories of Matt began clawing back through Umbrella's control.
Don't ask how Deadpool knew.
A man who knew the plot didn't need explanations.
"Awaken, Great Tengu Soul!" he whispered dramatically to himself.
---
"Supervisor!" a researcher shouted through Cain's earpiece. "The Pursuer's neural signals are spiking! Emotional instability detected!"
"Restart him! Now!" Cain barked.
"Restart sequence initiated."
In the arena—
The screaming stopped abruptly.
The Pursuer lowered his arms.
He stood upright.
Head bowed.
Still.
Silent.
Every mercenary turned their rifles toward him.
The plaza became deathly quiet.
Even the wind seemed to hold its breath.
Cain stared, heart pounding.
This—
This was exactly what he feared.
He had supported Alice's model from the start.
The Pursuer had power.
But no autonomy.
A weapon that could turn on its handler if the system glitched.
How was that superior to an intelligent subject like Alice?
Yet the higher-ups wanted spectacle.
Data.
Results.
He hated it.
"Status?" Cain demanded.
"Restart complete. All systems normal. The Pursuer has returned to baseline."
Cain exhaled slowly.
He had nearly run just now.
But before relief could settle—
The Pursuer lifted his head.
And turned—
Toward Cain.
Their eyes locked.
The monstrous mouth opened wide.
And an enraged roar exploded from his throat.
Cain's pupils shrank.
His legs failed.
He fell backward onto the rooftop.
"Open fire!" he screamed.
Dozens of rifles erupted simultaneously.
Bullets tore toward The Pursuer.
Meanwhile—
Deadpool had already sheathed his sword and quietly slipped out of the center.
"Hey, hey," he muttered while backing away. "If you're going to fight, fight him. Don't involve me."
No one listened.
All attention was on the monster rebelling under the rising sun.
Deadpool stopped at the edge of the arena.
Watching The Pursuer bathed in gunfire—
Watching him become the center of every gaze—
He placed a hand dramatically over his chest.
"Damn it," he muttered.
"I'm actually a little jealous of that big guy."
Behind him—
Jill's zip ties fell silently.
Carlos flexed his freed wrists.
Peyton quietly chambered a round.
Alice's eyes glowed faintly.
Something had shifted.
The game board had changed.
And as the first full rays of sunlight spilled across City Hall—
The chaos truly began.