Elsewhere in the facility, chaos reigned.
Francis stormed through the smoke-filled hallway, his face dark and stormy. Behind him followed a squad of armed guards, fire extinguishers in hand, desperately attempting to tame the rapidly spreading blaze. Their boots crunched on scorched tile, the sound lost beneath the distant screams and roar of spreading fire.
The scene before them was devastating—steel beams twisted from the force of the explosion, entire sections of the wall reduced to rubble, and oxygen chambers shattered like glass sculptures. The air was thick with smoke, heat, and the biting tang of burning chemicals.
As Francis stepped over the rubble, something caught his eye.
One of the oxygen chambers in the far corner had been blown open. And the man who had once been locked inside—Wade—was gone.
A flicker of realization crossed Francis's face.
No… he wouldn't…
"GRAAH!"
Before he could finish the thought, a figure burst from the shadows, lunging through the haze with a jagged shard of glass in hand. The makeshift blade slashed clean across a guard's throat, spraying blood into the air.
The guard clutched his neck, eyes wide with horror, gurgling as he fell to his knees.
And there he was.
Wade.
Naked, grotesque, and more furious than a hornet's nest.
His skin looked like it had been dipped in acid—burned, scarred, and mangled beyond recognition. Not a single patch of flesh remained untouched. And yet, despite the horror of his appearance, Wade's eyes burned with terrifying clarity.
"Francis…" Wade growled through clenched teeth. The name dripped with venom, every syllable coated in hatred.
Just as Robert had anticipated.
After being dragged off, Wade had been subjected to even more horrific torture—trapped in a deprivation chamber, deprived of oxygen, and kept on the brink of unconsciousness for days at a time. Francis had pushed him harder than any subject before, desperate to break him.
But instead of dying, Wade's body had adapted.
The serum finally activated.
The healing factor kicked in.
And while it saved his life—it destroyed his face.
That alone might've broken another man.
But not Wade Wilson.
Francis had created a monster, and that monster had just declared war.
…
"Tch." Francis stared him down. "So it was you, you deranged freak."
He took a step back and barked to his men, "Open fire! Kill him!"
Too slow.
Wade was already moving.
He reached down, grabbed the rifle from the dead guard's body, flipped off the safety, leveled the barrel, and opened fire.
Bang! Bang! Bang!
Three guards' heads burst open like ripe fruit, collapsing before they even registered the threat.
The rest panicked, some fumbling with their weapons, others shooting wildly into the smoke.
Rat-a-tat-tat!
Muzzle flashes lit up the hall. Bullets tore through the air, punching holes into walls and equipment—but not Wade.
He ducked, rolled, and slid behind a pile of debris. Even half-burned and naked, he moved like a shadow.
This was his element.
Gunfire blazed from both sides. Wade retaliated with precision—one shot, one kill. His mercenary instincts hadn't dulled. They'd sharpened into something lethal.
The guards fell one by one, shouting, cursing, screaming. It was a massacre.
All the while, Francis crouched behind a massive collapsed machine, watching, waiting. He didn't fire. Didn't flinch.
He was waiting for something.
Or someone.
…
TAP. TAP. TAP.
Footsteps echoed amid the chaos.
Francis's gaze shifted toward the noise. A figure emerged from behind the wreckage, stumbling into view.
Dust-covered, bruised, and wearing a guard's uniform, the man collapsed beside Francis, rifle in hand.
"Holy crap," the newcomer gasped, clutching his chest. "This place is a warzone."
Francis narrowed his eyes.
The "guard" turned toward him slowly.
Their eyes met.
Robert froze.
Francis frowned.
Robert cursed internally.
Seriously? Out of everywhere in this place… I had to bump into him?
Robert had been trying to stay clear of the battle, looking for a way out of the facility. But instead of finding an exit, he'd wandered into the eye of the storm—and come face-to-face with the man he least wanted to see.
Francis.
Not ideal.
Still, Francis hadn't recognized him. Yet.
Francis squinted. "What are you doing here?"
Robert forced his voice into a low rasp. "Too dangerous out there. Thought I'd protect you."
"I don't need protection," Francis snapped.
Robert didn't miss a beat. "Great. Then you can protect me."
"…What?"
Francis blinked.
Did his own subordinate just ask him to act as a bodyguard?
Is that plausible!?
Francis's instincts flared. Something didn't add up.
"Who are you?"
Robert grinned and said the one thing guaranteed to push Francis over the edge.
"I understand what I understand. What I don't understand doesn't matter."
Francis's face froze.
His pupils contracted.
This guy…
"YOU—!"
Recognition hit like a hammer. The voice. The riddles. The smug grin.
It was him.
The damn riddler from earlier!
Francis lunged forward.
Robert scrambled back.
And outside, the gunfight raged on.
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