Just as Thunder, gripping her tactical dagger in reverse, lunged toward Deadpool's decapitated body on the ground — the body moved first.
Even without a head, it was still in motion. With one hand, Deadpool's body fired his pistols upward, intercepting Marcus's bullets midair. At the same time, his left hand reached behind his back, drew a katana, and parried Thunder's attack with practiced ease.
"See? Can't touch me," Deadpool quipped, his movements surprisingly fluid despite his headless state. His swordsmanship was almost elegant, the ease of a seasoned fighter — not that it stopped him from running his mouth.
Meanwhile, his head was finally descending from the air, spinning as it fell.
"Oh, sorry, sweetheart," he called cheerfully. "I'd love to keep playing, but I really need to go catch my head."
With a powerful kick, he forced Thunder back several steps, then leapt upward, his neck stump aligning perfectly with the falling head.
The two connected with a soft snap! — perfectly reattached.
Well… almost perfectly.
"Hey, that's better… Wait—dammit, it's backward!"
Before Deadpool could correct the situation — his face and backside now facing the same direction — Marcus struck. He surged forward and unleashed a tenfold enhanced iron punch, slamming his fist straight into Deadpool's torso.
The blow sent Deadpool hurtling through the air like a ragdoll, crashing into a concrete wall with such force that his spine audibly snapped. A crater several meters deep spread across the reinforced surface.
"Gotta hand it to my right foot," Deadpool groaned cheerfully from the pit, his body twisted at impossible angles. "Pretty sure that's the only bone I didn't break."
Even with a shattered body, he kept talking — as energetic as ever. With a casual twist of his hands, he grabbed his own head and spun it 180 degrees like a doll until it faced the right way again.
Thunder didn't waste the opportunity.
"Zzzzzzt!"
A surge of electricity burst from her palm, condensing into a sphere of blinding yellow light. The lab filled with the sound of crackling current — sharp, rapid, almost like the cries of a thousand birds.
Her slender hand transformed into a blade of living lightning. With deadly precision, she thrust it toward Deadpool.
"This looks like it's going to huuuurt!" Deadpool yelped, covering his face melodramatically.
"BOOM!"
The thunderstrike hit him square in the abdomen, detonating inside his body with a deafening crack. A surge of bioelectric energy tore through every cell, charring him instantly. Within moments, Deadpool's entire body blackened into a smoking husk, the scent of scorched flesh filling the laboratory.
It was Thunder's most powerful attack — the Thunder Blade, a move that concentrated her bioelectric energy to its peak before releasing it all in one devastating, lightning-fast strike. The blast could obliterate a human body in an instant.
"Don't relax yet, Thunder," Marcus warned, his voice low and steady.
He knew that even this wasn't enough to kill Deadpool.
The moment her strike landed, Marcus conjured six spears from his hands — each forged from volatile, flammable bio-metal. In a blur of movement, he hurled all six at the smoldering figure embedded in the wall.
Head. Limbs. Heart.
Each spear found its mark, pinning Deadpool in a grotesque, cruciform shape against the reinforced wall.
Marcus pulled out a lighter, flicked it once, and tossed it toward the body.
"BOOM! BOOM! BOOM! BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!"
Six consecutive explosions ripped through the lab. The fire consumed Deadpool completely, the shockwave tearing chunks out of the walls. The mercenary's body was incinerated into dust, fragments scattering like dark snow through the air.
Even the thick metal wall behind him was reduced to rubble, leaving a gaping hole in the structure.
There was no other word for it — total annihilation.
Kill. Burn. Scatter the ashes. It was a full-service execution, and in the Marvel Universe, only a handful of beings would ever need such treatment.
"That should've done it," Marcus muttered, watching the ashes drift away in the air. "Even Deadpool would need time to recover from that."
But Thunder's expression darkened. She glanced toward a shadowed corner and said quietly, "Master… I'm afraid… he's already recovered."
"What?"
Marcus turned — and sure enough, from the darkness stepped a completely intact Deadpool, not a scratch on him. His red-and-black suit gleamed faintly under the emergency lights, as spotless as if nothing had happened.
"Wow," Deadpool said, applauding slowly, his tone almost impressed. "I've gotta hand it to you — that was one of the top ten best ways I've ever been killed. Bravo, really." He smirked beneath his mask. "You even cremated me! Very professional."
Thunder's eyes widened, disbelief written all over her face. "Master, I don't think I can launch another Thunder Blade anytime soon," she said, clutching her badly burned hand. "But how… how could he recover that fast?"
Marcus's expression was grim. "It's his finger," he said. "When I kicked him earlier, he sliced off one of his own fingers and tossed it away. That body—" he pointed at the newly reformed Deadpool, "—grew from it."
Deadpool chuckled, unfazed. "Aha! You caught that, huh? Smart boy. Still, shame about all that effort you wasted burning me. A beautiful cremation, though — five stars!"
This wasn't regeneration. It was something beyond regeneration.
Deadpool's healing factor was so absurd that it defied causality itself — true immortality, a body that could regrow from the smallest fragment, even from ashes.
Fighting him head-on was useless. Marcus knew it. Continuing to do so would only waste time and energy.
And Deadpool — unpredictable, chaotic Deadpool — might be insane, but he was no fool. Beneath that lunatic charm was a killer's instinct sharper than any blade.
"Hey, I'll let you two lovebirds decide which one of you wants to die first," Deadpool said cheerfully as he drew both katanas from his back. The blades glinted menacingly as he spun them in his hands. "If you're out of ideas for my next death, maybe you should be planning your own."
Thunder stepped forward, raising her knife despite her trembling arm. "Master, I'll hold him off!"
Marcus grabbed her wrist and pulled her back. "No. Go after Killian. Don't get in my way."
He stepped forward, the silver longblade forming in his grasp, gleaming coldly under the lab's flickering lights.
Thunder hesitated, then nodded reluctantly. "Yes, Master."
As she retreated down the corridor, Marcus and Deadpool stood face-to-face, blades drawn.
Deadpool tilted his head. "Hey, before we start—just so we're clear, that guy owes me two million dollars. So if you could, like, not kill him before I get paid, that'd be great."
Marcus raised his weapon, eyes narrowing. "Too bad," he said, voice cold as steel. "I'm already planning to."
Their blades flashed simultaneously—
And the battle between the immortal fool and the undying monster began.
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T/N:
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