Stryker: "???"
Logan: "…"
Silence swallowed the corridor. Every eye fixed on the figure standing in the smoking crater—yellow jumpsuit, white cape, red gloves. His glossy bald head was a bit sooty, but otherwise pristine.
Saitama climbed out of the pit, brushing dust from his clothes and flicking grit from his belt.
"Rude," he sighed. He just wanted to be a quiet salted-fish shut-in, but there were always clowns trying to cause him trouble.
"Impossible! Impossible! No biological cells can withstand a laser!"
Stryker lurched to his feet, face drained. He'd devoted a lifetime to genetics, pioneered the fusion of mutant genes—yet by everything he knew, no living tissue could take an optic blast head-on. That was a hard fact.
But this? This was a lesson.
It wasn't exactly Stryker's fault. On Earth he was a towering intellect, but he'd never brushed the edges of multiverses or higher dimensions. Saitama had blown through the limiter of living things—less "human," more… a higher-order lifeform. Using known science to judge the unknown was a quick path to confusion.
Not that Saitama cared to explain. Honestly, he didn't know why he was this strong either. Headache.
Rrrrrrumble—
Wade's sunken eyes flared again, the optic blast even fiercer than before. Twin crimson lances screamed down the hall, heat warping the air.
"It's useless. Attacks at this level…"
Saitama didn't even shift his feet. He raised his right hand, fingers spread.
WHAM—
Light detonated in his palm, sparks geysering off his skin. He closed his fist.
The beam didn't pierce so much as flicker out.
"Too weak," he murmured, a curl of white steam lifting from his hand.
In the control room, Stryker stared, hollow-eyed. Block an optic blast like that—with a hand?
Wade's outline flickered—teleport.
He appeared above Saitama, right fist glowing like a white-hot brand as it hammered down.
Boom—
Shockwaves rolled. Saitama caught the punch clean.
"That neural response time…!" Stryker's jaw hung. Even the fastest known creatures couldn't track a teleport strike, much less intercept it.
"Too slow," Saitama sighed, and gave the fist a casual sweep.
CRAAASH—
Deadpool fired forward like a cannonball, broke the sound barrier, and punched through wall after fortress-thick wall. A gouge a hundred meters long split the passage, each slab showing a neat, human-shaped hole.
Even Kayla's group, fleeing in the distance, flinched at the boom.
Saitama walked through the dust until he stood over Wade in the rubble. For all his "bug-tier" reputation in this world, Wade looked like a mangled meat patty. Adamantium bones or not, that lazy flick had almost pulped him.
Saitama scratched his cheek. "Sorry. Might've used a bit too much."
To Logan and Stryker, the "apology" felt like a slap. Arrogant freak.
Stryker's stomach sank. His Weapon X masterpiece wasn't an opponent at all—ruined after years of work.
"Rrrr—"
Then the heap in the debris growled. Wade's eyes burned scarlet; twisted muscle writhed; adamantium struts realigned and knit.
"This… this is—" Stryker blinked, then burst into manic laughter. "Gene awakening! Perfect fusion! Hahaha—of course! Under extreme stress! Thank you!"
First-gen Deadpool had always been a half-assembled supercar: impressive, but full of hidden faults. Now, under Saitama's pressure, the puppet's eyes gained a glint of clarity. His aura climbed—higher and higher—like a hibernating beast lifting its head to show its fangs.
"He got stronger?" Logan grimaced. If the earlier version already steamrolled him…
"Kill him! Kill Saitama! Wade—go!!"
Stryker stabbed the command through.
Flick—
Wade vanished.
BOOM—
The optic blast erupted—at the same time an adamantium blade scythed out of thin air.
Perfect fusion. Multiple powers—at once.
(End of Chapter)
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