Chapter 725: New Space, New Misfortune (Part 2) (Patreon)

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On the fringe of Hell's Kitchen, inside an arcade, a tiny yellow figure hopped onto a game machine. With practiced ease, he inserted two coins into the slot and then, using both hands and feet, began to deftly manipulate the joystick and buttons.

Before long, a shadow loomed over the game machine's control panel. The intensely focused Pikachu, manipulating his character, didn't notice someone had approached from behind.

With his short yellow arms, he vigorously pushed the joystick, tirelessly stomping on the buttons. The arcade machine, played like a dance mat, showcased a character on-screen pulling off a flashy combo.

Just as Pikachu was about to land a decisive blow, suddenly, he found himself suspended in mid-air, his limbs still mimicking the motions of pushing the joystick and pressing the buttons.

As the uncontrolled character on the screen got knocked out, Pikachu flailed in vain, furiously biting the hand that had hoisted him up.

A loud "Ow!" echoed from behind. A man in a black and red uniform, a long sword slung on his back, clutched his hand, bending over and yelping in pain.

"Pikachu!" the man cried. "Are you nuts?! Didn't you see I was about to win?!"

The man, Wilson, shook his hand and retorted, "How many times have I told you? Call me Deadpool. And just because we're both played by Ryan Reynolds doesn't mean you can address me by my first name…"

"Are you sick in the head?" Pikachu retorted, arms crossed. "If you've got nothing to do, scram! Don't interrupt my game!"

"You remember you're a detective, right? At this rate, you're turning into a pro gamer," Deadpool remarked, shoving Pikachu aside. "Don't think I didn't see that. You were terrible. Let me handle it. I'll blow them away!"

Pikachu huffed and hopped away.

Ten minutes later, Deadpool shouted, "Taste the wrath of Daddy Deadpool—!!"

With a "Boom!" the character on the screen unleashed a powerful move, KO'ing the opponent. But in his enthusiasm, Deadpool broke the joystick with a loud "snap".

Seconds later, the arcade owner tossed both Pikachu and Deadpool out. Sitting on the steps outside, Deadpool, holding a freshly bought taco, offered it to Pikachu and asked, "Where's Spider-Man? Why hasn't he been gaming lately?"

"Don't get me started," Pikachu grumbled, biting into the taco. "He's been busy with S.H.I.E.L.D. missions and college classes. Not everyone's an unemployed vagrant like you."

"I've told you, I'm a mercenary!"

"Yeah, a mercenary who never gets hired," Pikachu sipped his cola. "Since I've known you, you've never had a job. Can you even support yourself?"

Deadpool paused, then admitted, "You're right. I'm useless. But it's not entirely my fault, is it? People used to hire me for assassinations, even to take out presidents. But now, with global cooperation, big companies thrive while small ones survive without resorting to murder…"

He continued, "Even the most notorious assassins have settled down or ventured into space exploration… Why don't you try that? You're pretty skilled, aren't you?"

"What nonsense are you spouting?" Deadpool bit into his taco. "Astronauts can't have scars, and what else do I have besides scars?"

Pikachu nodded in agreement. Deadpool took a big gulp of cola, choked, and then said, "When is Spider-Man free? I want to hang out. We haven't finished that game…"

"Who knows? Maybe you should find a job first, or you won't even have money for game tokens."

Deadpool snorted, "You underestimate me... I'm already broke!"

He stood up, emptying his pockets and wallet, revealing only two photos of himself and not a single penny.

"The last of my money went on food. If I don't get a job, I might starve," Deadpool shrugged.

After parting with Pikachu, Deadpool returned to his rented room in Hell's Kitchen. That night, with no money for takeout, he decided to cook.

Opening the fridge, he found some leftovers. Not skilled in cooking, but capable of turning on the stove, he dumped everything into a pan: leftover hotdog buns, Chinese noodles, half-eaten spicy rice cakes, and even a raw crab.

Stirring the mishmash with his hands due to the lack of a spatula, he served it up once it started smoking.

Deadpool sniffed and muttered, "Doesn't look appetizing, but I have no sense of taste, so who cares!"

He began to eat heartily, forgetting one important detail: despite being a modified human without taste, he could still get an upset stomach.

His stomach wasn't made of iron, and even if it was, it couldn't withstand the poison of leftovers from days ago, coupled with his terrible cooking skills.

Soon, Deadpool started running to the toilet frequently. His enhanced genes brought him a significant problem: an astonishing amount of waste production.

Before long, the toilet was clogged, and with Deadpool suffering from stomach pain and being new to the area, he couldn't find an external toilet and had to find a way to unclog his own.

Deadpool, having been a mercenary for years, thought fixing a small household appliance was no big deal. However, within seconds, the toilet exploded.

A bad kitchen environment didn't mean the residents could tolerate their neighbor exploding feces. Quickly, they called the landlord, who, after confiscating all of Deadpool's valuables, threw him out.

With the stench of feces on him, Deadpool sat alone on the rooftop. At that moment, a figure approached him. Spider-Man walked up to Deadpool and asked, "What happened? Why are you alone here?"

"Hey, Spider-Man! My landlord kicked me out because I couldn't fix the toilet..." Deadpool said, feeling wronged, "But it's not my fault; his furniture was old and worn!"

"Uh..." Spider-Man gave him a pat and then recoiled from the smell. Deadpool always had a bit of a stench, but today it was worse. Spider-Man stepped back but still showed concern, "Do you have nowhere to live? I could lend you some money to stay at a hotel."

"My God! How could I possibly accept that!" Deadpool wrung his hands awkwardly. Spider-Man shook his head and said, "No relationship. I have money now, and it might rain tonight. You better find a place to stay."

Touched almost to tears, Deadpool accepted the money from Spider-Man. "No one has ever been so nice to me, Spider-Man..."

"No relationship, just caring for a friend. I've been busy lately. When I'm free, we'll play games together." Peter waved his hand and left with a swing of his spider web, looking tired.

Holding the money, Deadpool sniffled and jumped off the rooftop to find a new place. Just then, his mobile phone rang.

"Hello? Who's this? ...You say you're who? I don't think I know you. Really? Did I leave Spider-Man my phone number?"

"Okay, can I call you... um... Dr. Rodriguez? That's a bit of a tongue-twister... You're a S.H.I.E.L.D. psychologist? You must be earning a lot..."

"Yes, I'm a mercenary. What?! You want to hire me?!" Deadpool sprang up excitedly. "What for? Assassination? Which president? How much? I have to say, even though my prices have dropped, you can't cheat me!"

"Not for killing? Then what do you want me for?"

Deadpool stood silently, apparently listening to the person on the other end of the phone. After a while, he said:

"You mean, there's an unscrupulous gaming company that rolled back their entire server a few months due to a programming error? A good friend of yours played for months and, after discovering the rollback, developed severe anxiety and might even need hospital treatment..."

"God, are the game's operators idiots? You could blow their brains out, splattering it on the keyboard, impossible to pick out..."

"Yes, I understand. I also love gaming. My friend is also a gaming addict. Wait... your friend, couldn't be..."

Deadpool's mind raced.

The psychologist on the phone, Schiller Rodriguez, a S.H.I.E.L.D. psychologist, and Spider-Man, who recently worked at S.H.I.E.L.D., seemed tired when Deadpool saw him, unlike his usual energetic self.

Could the psychologist be talking about Spider-Man?

Looking at the money in his hand, Deadpool realized Spider-Man's visit wasn't a coincidence. The 'yellow-haired rat' must have told Spider-Man about his plight, so he came to help, stealing a moment from his busy schedule.

Thinking this, Deadpool asked gravely, "You want me to kill him?"

"Just cause him some trouble? Isn't that letting him off too easy? ...True, you're right, going too far might trouble the victim... Okay, I understand... The address is... Huh? This address is strange? I have to find it myself? ...Alright, I'm a professional."

"Price? No, I won't take money. I'll leave him a memory he'll never forget!"

After hanging up, Deadpool straightened his collar, armed himself with a handgun and sword, and walked out of the dark alley. Under the dim streetlights, he strode with the determination of a hero.

Soon, a shout echoed over Hell's Kitchen:

"Landlord! Got any more shit?!!"

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Next Chapter>>Chapter 726: A Stroke of Bad Luck for Eternity (Part 1)