The blow landed like thunder. In a blur of teleportation, the first Deadpool—Wade—appeared in front of Wolverine and, before Logan could react, drove an adamantium blade through his shoulder, pinning him to the floor.
Too fast.
When John the teleporter used this power, his weak combat sense made a broken skill look tame—he even got "predicted" and killed by Sabretooth in the original timeline. But Wade wasn't John. Wade had Sabretooth's ferocity woven into him and a bouquet of stolen mutant powers besides. In his hands, teleportation was pure slaughter. He was rolling Logan flat.
"Kill him."
From the surveillance room, Stryker issued the order. With Wade, he could control the mutant world and crown himself the true ruler of the planet.
The chip-wired Deadpool didn't hesitate. A blade of adamantium flashed and chopped down toward Logan's neck. Even with Logan's regeneration, a severed head meant game over—
Snap.
Just as the blade was about to bite, a hand closed on it. Lightly.
Adamantium—metal that sheared other metals like tofu—stopped dead in that grip. No blood. No cut.
Even Stryker froze. What kind of creature blocks adamantium with bare fingers?
"Oh. Logan's my friend. Mind letting him go?" Saitama asked, dead-fish eyes fixed on Wade.
"That thing isn't Wade anymore—Saitama, watch it!" Logan rasped, cold sweat slicking his back. His chest burned where the blade had punched through.
Deadpool didn't answer; he was waiting for Stryker.
"Maybe you didn't understand," Saitama sighed. "You're hurting him."
His fingers tightened.
K-k-k-k—
Metal wailed. In the control room, Stryker's eyes almost fell out of his skull.
No way.
A human being… bending adamantium?
Titanium—the hardest "known" industrial alloy—wasn't even in the same league as adamantium. Even a direct missile hit wouldn't warp an adamantium blade. That indestructibility was why Wolverine was such an obscene tank: if you couldn't pierce him, you couldn't stop him.
And yet—
Before Stryker's very worldview, the adamantium edge in Saitama's hand twisted, buckled… and with a crack, shattered into glittering crystalline shards that clattered to the floor.
Logan stared, pain forgotten.
"We have to take him—capture him—Saitama!" Stryker was shaking, voice turning fevered. "A mutant this strong—metal degradation? temporal fatigue? raw strength augmentation—what gene is that…?"
Shnk.
Wade vanished from in front of Logan.
"Look out!" Logan shouted. "He teleports!"
Before the words finished, Deadpool reappeared behind Saitama. A new blade sprouted from his forearm and chopped down at the bald head.
"Damn it," Stryker jolted. He'd forgotten to say "alive." Living samples had the most research value. No matter—he'd hurry down and dissect the corpse before it cooled—
KANG!
A bell of steel exploded down the corridor as sparks fountained. Wade's adamantium cleaver struck Saitama's scalp.
Stryker's mind emptied.
That glossy, egg-smooth head… didn't split. Didn't dent. Didn't so much as redden.
Wade, on the other hand, absorbed a brutal rebound through the blade; the shock rattled him head to toe, muscles in his right arm close to tearing.
"W-what…"
Stryker gaped. It was one thing to crush a blade in your fist; it was another for a bald skull to no-sell an adamantium chop.
Even Logan felt like he was hallucinating. He knew Saitama was strong. This wasn't strong. This was broken.
Saitama turned slowly, as if his reaction speed had to boot up. His dead-fish eyes settled on Wade.
He was an olympic-level homebody—could stay inside for months, no AC, no takeout, living on instant noodles; battle the aunties at the Saturday supermarket sale. A simple man.
But there was one thing he couldn't stand: people clowning his baldness… or even thinking about it the wrong way.
"You just hit me?"
The corner of his mouth twitched. The vibe shifted, dark and mean.
Deadpool's mind was gone, but something primal flickered in those empty eyes: fear.
"Kill him!" Stryker snapped, finally sensing the cliff edge beneath his feet.
A hum built. Wade's eyes reddened, irises sinking into pits rimmed with black.
Cyclops's optic blast.
BOOM—
Twin lances of ruby energy ripped out. The blast smashed into Saitama point-blank; white-hot light ballooned and tore the air itself. Logan grunted as the shock front hurled him away. Steel pillars sagged and ran like wax in the heat.
"Excellent." Stryker couldn't hide his satisfaction. The optic gene was fully integrated—one regret only: this was the first-generation Deadpool, rushed awake before full polish. For now, Wade couldn't stack powers; when the eyes fired, teleportation dropped—one mode at a time.
Not that it mattered. Even this "proto" Deadpool was a juggernaut.
"SAITAMA!" Logan choked out. That laser melted adamantium. If it hit clean—
"Shame. Only a damaged corpse left—but your genes will be enough," Stryker murmured, smiling.
Wade paced toward the glowing crater, forearm blades clicking back into place. He took two steps, then stopped.
"What is it?"
Stryker frowned. He hadn't told Wade to halt.
The smoke thinned.
From a ten-meter-wide gouge, a figure dragged itself upright—dusty, a little scuffed, very much alive.
(End of Chapter)
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