William looked at the mess on the dock, feeling a throbbing pain in his temples.
A team of one and a half million U.S. dollars, now only a mentally ill person and a bleeding female alcoholic with two injured people remained.
No, now the female alcoholic had also run off with the injured.
Only the mentally ill one was left.
"So,"
Deadpool, with a tone of someone discovering a new World, patted William's shoulder.
"Are we considered to have completed the mission now?"
"When will the final payment be settled?"
"I'm telling you, my psychological trauma fee has to be calculated separately."
"That alien's appearance just now severely polluted my aesthetics. I feel like I won't be able to get it up for a Mexico burrito for at least three years."
William looked at him expressionlessly.
He was now seriously considering how much money he could make by packaging Wade Wilson and selling him to some alien biological research institute.
This thought was so tempting that he even began to draft marketing copy in his head.
"Want to own an infinitely regenerating experimental subject? Want to explore the most peculiar self-healing factors in the Universe? Order now and receive a mouth that can never shut! First come, first served, while supplies last!"
"Hey! What kind of look is that?"
Deadpool dramatically stepped back, crossing his arms.
"I'm warning you, I'm not that kind of casual man! Unless... you pay more."
William reined in his thoughts and took a deep breath.
Staying with this lunatic would sooner or later lower his standing as a top consultant.
"Your remuneration will be deposited into your account within twenty-four hours."
William straightened his trench coat, resuming his usual businesslike, indifferent demeanor.
"Now, you can go back and find your Mexico burrito."
"Oh, so heartless?"
Deadpool leaned in again.
"Don't be like that, the party outside isn't over yet! We should go to the city center, find the rooftop with the best view, drink beer, and rate those alien bastards! I bet that big green guy will get MVP!"
William ignored him, turned, and walked into the nearby alley.
He had to leave this place of trouble quickly.
If he didn't leave soon, when S.H.I.E.L.D. agents came to clean up and saw him standing with Deadpool, an internationally wanted criminal, it would be a huge problem... St. Patrick's Cathedral.
Tandy Bowen was kneeling on a prayer mat, but her mind was completely elsewhere, not on the holy icon before her.
She clutched a mobile phone tightly in her hand, the screen displaying the live battle situation in downtown Manhattan.
Explosions, Fire, screams, and alien armies like locusts passing through.
Every scene was like a needle, piercing her heart.
"We can't stay here anymore."
A deep voice came from the Shadow of the church.
Tyrone Johnson emerged from the darkness, his baggy black hoodie almost blending with the Shadow.
"The boss said to stand by," Tandy's voice was hesitant. "He said the situation outside is very complicated."
"Complicated?" Tyrone walked to her side, his gaze also falling on the phone screen. "People are dying, Tandy. Every minute, every second, innocent people are losing their lives because of this war that has nothing to do with them."
His fist quietly clenched in the darkness.
"We have power, not to hide in a place like this and pray."
Tandy fell silent.
She looked at the screen, a mother holding her child, wailing in the ruins, her eyes instantly reddened.
She thought of her father.
She thought of those helpless nights.
"But... what can we do if we go? They're aliens."
"Save one if you can," Tyrone's voice was firm. "I can use the darkness to take people to safety. Your Light can heal them, and also... harm enemies."
Tandy looked up, gazing into Tyrone's eyes, which were still bright in the darkness.
She saw determination.
She took a deep breath, slowly stood up, and turned off her phone.
"Okay."
...William traversed the chaotic outskirts of the city.
The wail of Police sirens, explosions, and people's screams intertwined into a symphony of the apocalypse, yet he felt a strange calm.
Chaos meant the collapse of order.
And the collapse of order often came with opportunities.
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