Chapter 206: Spider-Man and Deadpool Meet
"John, what took you so long?" the veteran cop asked, checking his watch. He wondered if the rookie had developed cold feet and fled the scene.
"Captain," John said, suddenly appearing right beside him.
The veteran officer jumped, nearly discharging his sidearm by accident. He only held his fire because he recognized John's voice just in time.
"What the hell is going on with you?" the veteran asked, baffled.
John pulled off his headgear and looked his superior in the eye. "Captain, I'm coming clean. The truth is, I have superpowers."
"What? Superpowers?" the veteran stammered, his jaw dropping.
"Yeah. Watch this." John crouched next to their patrol car, slipped one hand under the chassis, and grunted. With a surge of power, the entire car lifted off the ground. He didn't lift it high—only about five centimeters—to ensure they weren't spotted by other units.
"Hold on a second." The veteran cop hurriedly lit another cigarette. After a long drag to steady his nerves, he asked, "If you have this kind of power, why on earth did you become a cop?"
"Because I want to punish evil and uphold justice," John answered without a second of hesitation.
"So, what's the move now?" The veteran felt like his chances of surviving the day had just skyrocketed.
"I need you to coordinate with me, Captain. When the assault begins, you lead the squad, and together we'll crush these thugs," John proposed.
"Well..." The veteran trailed off, falling into a silent pensive state.
"What is it, Captain? Is there a problem with the plan?" John asked, frowning.
The veteran rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. "It's not the plan that's the problem. It's just that... this 'squad' of mine only has two people in it. Me and you."
"What?!" John cried out in disbelief. "Isn't a squad supposed to have at least ten officers?"
"Normally, yes," the veteran said, looking embarrassed. "But since you're a rookie, the brass specifically assigned me to mentor you in a two-man unit until we could recruit others."
"..." John was speechless.
The Tactical Withdrawal
At the base of the mountain, Abbott Phillip hung up his phone, his face darkening. "Understood."
He had just received word from the precinct: terrorists had seized the Oscorp Tower. Now that the shareholders had escaped, they were putting immense pressure on the police department to resolve the crisis immediately. In a capitalist society, the influence of a titan like Oscorp was absolute. The police were forced to launch an immediate counter-offensive, and they needed Abbott's specialized units back in the city.
"A diversion," Abbott muttered. He realized he had been played. "Luring the tiger from the mountain."
Abbott closed his eyes, weighing his options. Outside, a swarm of noisy reporters was watching his every move. If he abandoned the mountain operation now, the press would crucify him. However, if he stayed, the city would suffer even greater losses, and he would lose his command—and likely his career.
"Order a full retreat immediately. The aerial units must reach the city center within ten minutes!" Abbott barked.
Time was of the essence. He had to make a choice, and this was the most logical one. Didn't they say Spider-Man was up there? he thought. Let him handle the mountain. Isn't he supposed to be a vigilante anyway?
On the mountain, the special forces and police units began their descent. The helicopters banked away and sped toward the city, leaving the gathered reporters completely bewildered.
The Red and the Redder
"Oh my God... they're just leaving?" Peter said, standing on a branch and looking back at the terrorists he had webbed up. "They didn't even take these guys into custody."
"Fine, I guess I'll have to drop them off at the station myself," Peter sighed, crouching down. He couldn't wrap his head around what the military was doing.
"Who's there?!" Peter's sharp hearing picked up a movement behind him.
"Oh, hi~" Deadpool chirped, waving his right hand with a grin. His left hand was currently elbow-deep in a terrorist's pockets.
"Hey! Buddy, it looks like you've committed patent infringement on my suit design," Peter said, jumping down to face him.
"No way, clearly you're the one copying me," Deadpool countered. He then turned slightly to the side and whispered to an empty space: "I'm not gonna tell him I was actually created after him."
"I copied you? Impossible. I designed this suit myself," Peter argued. Technically, he had drawn the blueprints in the Shadow Kingdom, but it was Little Black who had actually crafted it in his spare time.
"By the way, what exactly are you doing?" Peter asked, noticing Deadpool's busy hands.
"Robbing the rich to help the poor," Deadpool said, grabbing Peter's shoulder like an old pal. "Did you know these guys stole a ton of cash? I'm just liberating the funds so I can hand them over to a local charity."
"Cool! That's a great idea," Peter said, impressed. "But... doesn't that money belong to the bank?"
"Sure, it belongs to the bank, but banks are just tools for evil capitalists. Instead of letting the money rot in their vaults, why not use it to benefit the needy?" Deadpool continued his hustle.
Peter thought about it for a moment. It actually sounded somewhat logical. "Hmm... well, in that case, I'll look the other way this once. But try not to make a habit of it." After all, breaking the law was still breaking the law, even for a good cause.
"You're totally right, Spidey. I promise, never again!" Deadpool laughed, stuffing stacks of cash into a large burlap sack. Behind his mask, his grin was nearly splitting his face. The motherlode was right here all along! Coming here was the best decision ever.
"I don't know... something feels a bit off about you," Peter said, rubbing his chin and narrowing his eyes.
"Whoa, you aren't hitting on me, are you?" Deadpool asked, crossing his arms over his chest protectively.
Peter felt a wave of goosebumps. "Definitely not! I just think you're acting weird. Can you take off your mask so I can see who I'm talking to?"
"The mask..." Deadpool went silent. His manic energy vanished, replaced by a sudden, heavy melancholy. "When I was a kid, there was a fire. My parents were burned alive. I was lucky enough to survive, but I was scarred from head to toe. My face... it's a nightmare."
Deadpool slowly reached for his mask and pulled it off—only to reveal a Wolverine mask underneath.
"What the hell?" Peter was completely lost.
"Oh, sorry. Force of habit. I wear the face of my old 'friend' to hide my own ugliness." Deadpool then removed the Wolverine mask, revealing his true face. It was a mass of twisted, raw scar tissue—completely unrecognizable.
"I'm so sorry... I shouldn't have brought up your past," Peter said, looking at the horrific scars. He felt a deep pang of guilt.
"Don't sweat it. I'm used to it," Deadpool said, pulling Peter into a brief hug. "Tomorrow will be better."
"You're right. Tomorrow will be better." Peter was moved by the man's optimism. He felt like he could learn a lot from this stranger.
"Goodbye, Spider-Man. Hope we cross paths again!" Deadpool wiped a fake tear from his eye, slung the heavy sack over his shoulder, and began his trek down the mountain.
"Of course! See you around!" Peter called out, genuinely hoping to see his new "charitable" friend again.
At the Bottom of the Hill
"Ahahaha! Mwah!" Deadpool planted a massive kiss on Dopinder's forehead. "We're rich, buddy! We are filthy stinking rich!"
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