Chapter 388: Deadpool Killustrated
The view zooms in. A blurry figure flickers in and out of sight under dim light, swinging an enormous hammer. Every blow lands with a spray of blood and flesh and the horrible crack of breaking bone.
As the view draws closer, the figure's outline sharpens. It's none other than the dreaded Killer Deadpool.
He is drenched in blood from head to toe, a twisted, satisfied smile on his face, as if he could never get enough of the feast of slaughter before him.
The ground around him is carpeted in corpses and severed limbs, a nauseating vision of hell.
Having finished yet another brutal killing, the Killer Deadpool suddenly stops and slowly looks up at the sky.
His bloodshot eyes glint with something complicated: weariness with the way things are, and a hunger for an unknown future.
"Interesting," he mutters to himself. "Is this another fanfic world I've landed in? How ironic... Still, that raises the question. How much fresh prey can this world offer me to enjoy?"
"Hello there, all you readers in front of your screens. And you too, author." The Killer Deadpool tosses the hammer aside.
"Maybe to many of you, I'm still an unfamiliar face. So allow me to use this brief moment of quiet to reveal the real me beneath the madness." His words carry an eerie sincerity, as if he were having a heart-to-heart with an old friend. There's no one in front of him, but he knows someone is sure to see this.
At first, the Killer Deadpool's story was no different from that of ten thousand other Deadpools. They shared the same name and similar fates, carrying out preordained tasks in an endless loop.
Then, by chance, he touched the forbidden boundary: the fourth wall. In that instant he woke as if from a dream and realized that he and his world were nothing but fictional existences on the pages of a comic book.
Rage and despair fused into the deepest fire in his heart. He swore to break free of these invisible shackles and never again be fate's puppet.
And so an unprecedented plan of slaughter quietly took shape. He would drag every one of those dazzling, celebrated superheroes down from their pedestals. Wolverine's unbreakable grit, Iron Man's brilliant technology, Captain America's banner of justice, the Sentry's overwhelming might: none would be spared.
But every killing spree only reset the universe. It was like pressing a restart button, and everything went back the way it was.
Frustration washed over him like a tide, yet it couldn't put out the fire in his heart.
The Killer Deadpool began to reflect. Perhaps only by wiping out every living thing in the universe except himself could he break the endless loop. So his second massacre was even bloodier. The whole Marvel Universe seemed shrouded in red. But even these extreme measures couldn't free him from that invisible control.
After endless struggle and failure, Wade finally realized that the real enemy wasn't the characters he'd been trying to eliminate. It was the hands behind the curtain that created all of it: the writers and screenwriters.
They were the ones who held power over life and death. He was nothing but a speck of dust from their pens.
He still couldn't escape the writers' and screenwriters' control. To them, perhaps, he was just a slightly more troublesome marionette.
Any time the writers got the chance, they'd write him into a new storyline. So Deadpool decided the only way to end this for good was to actually fight his way into the real universe and kill the writers.
Or there was a Plan B.
The third time, he changed his approach, since slaughtering the Marvel Universe hadn't worked.
The Killer Deadpool reasoned that if these superheroes were fictional comic book characters, then the writers had to have gotten every one of them from somewhere before putting them in a script.
If he wanted to get rid of every comic book character, he'd have to kill the source of their inspiration.
In other words, all he had to do was kill the characters in the literary world who supplied that inspiration, and every character born from that inspiration would die along with them.
The thought got the Killer Deadpool excited. But first he would have to do something that filled him with dread and fear.
Even someone as strong as the Killer Deadpool had something he was afraid of: studying!
He'd have to cram everything there was to know about the literary world. Only then would he know exactly which characters to kill!
But reading was just too painful for him. Then another clever idea came to him.
He'd just kill every character in the literary world.
Soon he arrived in the Literary Universe and began a new killing spree.
Don Quixote, Sherlock Holmes, Mulan, Moby-Dick the white whale, Pinocchio, Snow White...
Unfortunately, this time he failed too. The people of the Literary Universe banded together and threw him out.
After failure upon failure, he was sick of it. But of course he wasn't going to stop.
So that no superhero would ever be anyone's puppet again, he, the Killer Deadpool, would keep on killing!
For Marvel!
Just now, though, he seemed to have spotted a very interesting universe.
A fanfic universe?
"A fanfic world, huh? I've killed one or two of those so-called protagonists with a System before. I wonder if this protagonist can take me to the real universe."
The Killer Deadpool really had killed one or two fanfic protagonists. Those protagonists had left him utterly speechless. They had tremendous power, and they used it to chase girls. Over a hundred of them, each.
It wasn't that Deadpool had never gone looking for fanfic universes. But they were extremely well hidden. Search for them deliberately, and you'd never find one.
Since this universe was right here, he was definitely going to take a look.
He'd see whether its protagonist could withstand his slaughter!
...
"Achoo! Somebody out there must be talking about me." Ethan shook his head.
"We finally meet. Loki, God of Stories!"
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