"This guy popped out... a bit late, isn't he!"
Out of boredom, Artoria began watching the videos compiled by Saturday. Saturday filtered through and sent Artoria anything involving abnormal behavior or suspected superhumans. During her review, Artoria saw a familiar face—a cold expression, confused eyes, and long curly hair. Wasn't that Bucky! This wasn't the red-nosed Buggy the Clown from One Piece who ate a Devil Fruit, but Bucky, Captain America's best friend from Marvel. It seemed something had happened within Hydra; otherwise, Bucky wouldn't have appeared here.
"Madam Hydra, why did she come to the United States? What on earth happened inside Hydra?"
Continuing to browse the videos, Artoria discovered an enchanting and seductive woman. The reason she noticed her was that this woman was simply too conspicuous—her entire body was green, and even her eyeshadow and lipstick were green, making her stand out glaringly. Perhaps the camera was too well-hidden, as she didn't notice it, and her movements were very swift. After pausing the video, Artoria observed carefully before matching the image with the one in her mind. This woman was a person whose entire body was poisonous; she was not to be trifled with. However, it wasn't that Artoria couldn't afford to provoke her. She would look for an opportunity to see if she could kill her; if she could, Hydra might fall into even greater chaos.
"I'm really too lazy to move."
She didn't know why, but for the past two days, Artoria had been feeling groggy, with a sense of mental exhaustion. Unfortunately, she slept too soundly every time and didn't know that Gaea was lying beside her with an ambiguous smile. Interestingly, Artoria's intuition didn't sense anything either. Artoria had no idea what Gaea had been up to lately, but Artoria's current appearance truly looked like someone who had overindulged in 'lust.'
"Are you alright, Miss Artoria?"
Gwen, walking in with a stack of documents, saw Artoria looking like a'salted fish' and instantly panicked. She hurried forward to ask about Artoria's condition. From her perspective, Artoria looked like she had been grinding a game for two months without sleep and could drop dead at any moment. Hearing Gwen's words, Artoria, who had originally intended to close her eyes for a nap, also realized something was wrong with her; this state was simply too strange.
"Don't worry, I'm fine, Gwen."
Forcing herself to stay alert, Artoria comforted Gwen. Although she didn't know what was happening, she had to reassure her own people first. Under Artoria's explanation, although Gwen was worried, she could only tell Artoria to rest early and stop working there. This gave Artoria a strange sense of being touched; it was the first time she had heard of an employee telling the boss to rest. After sending away the concerned Gwen, Artoria's office fell silent.
"The dark circles are a bit heavy, but I don't feel anything else unusual?"
Projecting a small mirror, Artoria looked at her rather heavy dark circles; any darker and she could cosplay as a panda. So, something was indeed wrong with her, but she might not find a clue for a while. In this state, her clones couldn't go out to play either. However, if she could kill Madam Hydra and Bucky, she still should.
"Saturday, give me a list of assassins from the black market."
"Yes, Master."
Since she couldn't get away herself, Artoria planned to let mercenaries help her accomplish what she wanted. But they couldn't be too weak, so she decided to hire a guy with a one-hundred-percent completion rate to do her work. Whether Bucky was killed or not didn't really matter, but if he could die silently at this time, the Civil War wouldn't have this fuse, and it would very likely be mitigated. There were benefits to killing him, and benefits to not killing him. If she didn't kill him, he could serve as a combatant in the future; although his strength wasn't particularly great, he could still go toe-to-toe with Captain America. Moreover, as Captain America's best friend, he could enhance Captain America's combat ability on the battlefield, so this guy's Death was a bit of a toss-up.
"I think everyone should know me. Every time, I'm that Mr. Deadpool who gets made into various versions. What I find most unbearable is that there's actually a version of me like a little red mouse. To be honest, it's a bit cute, but I still prefer the female version of me. Mmm! Those thighs, that waist, truly wonderful."
"To tell the truth, that dog-beep author actually let me appear only after two hundred chapters, which makes me very angry. So angry I want to take a knife and cut off his 'beep-beep-beep'. What a total bastard, to let the heroic and handsome... (ten thousand words omitted here), so I've decided to send that bastard author to South Korea."
"Smack!"
"Who... who hit me?"
In a pitch-black bar, Wade, who was clubbing and drinking while complaining toward an unknown direction, was finally hit on the head by a wine bottle. He looked around at everyone but couldn't find who hit him. This made him scratch his head in confusion. (Sorry, Mr. Deadpool, please move the knife away from my head, thank you.)
"Pah! Coward."
Silently putting away his twin swords, Deadpool spat 'handsomely' at the narrator. Of course, this wasn't out of the kindness of his heart, but because his phone rang.
"Hello, this is the invincible and handsome Mr. Deadpool. Are you looking for me? What, a business deal for only fifty million? Don't look for me, I make millions every minute. What, one hundred million? Okay, I'll take it."
Putting away his delicate little cell phone, Deadpool pulled up his mask, revealing half of his 'handsome' face. He reached back to grab something, but ended up with a pink—cough cough! Deadpool covered his mouth with one hand and quickly threw the thing away with the other. He looked around nervously, found that no one was paying attention, and then smoothly swiped a bottle of beer from the bartender. With a flick of his finger, he sent the bottle cap flying—who knows where it landed—triggering a woman's scream. He opened his mouth, took a deep swig of beer, and extended a middle finger to the old man DJing above.
"Smack! Smack! Smack!"
"Sorry, sorry, let's redo that, this one doesn't count."
He took out a knife and chopped off the hand that had just been meddling—now that hand had been twisted into a lump of meat by a mysterious force. Mr. Deadpool didn't show a single expression of pain as he apologized to the old man above and returned his knife to his back. Mr. Deadpool elegantly pulled a coin out of his 'pocket?' and flicked it directly toward the old man. The old man smiled and caught the coin.
"I'm not being a coward. You should know, that old man is not to be messed with!"
Ignoring that his severed hand was still bleeding, Mr. Deadpool quickly ran to make a phone call. He wanted to call that interesting Indian driver. Although his blood had scared the surrounding people half to Death, Deadpool didn't care about others' opinions at all.
"I do care, you jerk."
Fine! He still cared quite a bit. Who told him he had no money? o(￣︶￣)o
"So what if I have no money? Is being rich that great? Can you do whatever you want just because you have money?"
Sorry, Mr. Deadpool, I got a bit carried away. Please put down the knife, thank you.
"I'm going to tell everyone, you..."
Alright everyone, Mr. Deadpool is tired and is resting.
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