The moment Robert spotted Francis, he didn't hesitate.
He raised the rifle in his hands, finger already on the trigger.
He might've never fired a real gun before, but even he knew how to disengage the safety. And from the second he laid eyes on Francis again, he'd already decided to shoot.
At this distance, even a blindfolded amateur could hit the target.
But he had seriously underestimated Francis.
Before the barrel could fully align, Francis—initially caught off guard—snapped into motion with terrifying speed. With one swift move, he slammed down on the rifle, forcing it toward the floor. The muzzle fired, but the bullets struck harmlessly into the concrete.
"He's fast…" Robert barely had time to think before a fist rocketed toward him.
Crack!
Instinctively, Robert raised his arms to shield himself. The impact reverberated through his bones like a bell toll. His arms didn't just ache—they fractured on the spot.
The man was inhuman.
Robert recalled scenes from the film. Francis wasn't just a sadistic experimenter—he was a Mutant himself. His nervous system had been altered to feel no pain, and his physical enhancements put him on par with super soldiers. Even Wade had struggled against him in close quarters.
And now Robert was face-to-face with him.
Despite the crushing pain in his arms, Robert clung to the rifle. Francis noted it with surprise, a hint of respect—or irritation—flashing in his eyes.
"Persistent," Francis muttered, and then launched another blow.
But this time, Robert lunged forward, slamming his shoulder into Francis in a desperate attempt to tackle him off-balance.
Francis barely budged.
With a brutal grunt, he shifted his weight and brought a knee up into Robert's gut. The impact was like getting hit by a battering ram.
BOOM!
Robert flew several meters, crashing hard into the middle of the ongoing firefight between Wade and the guards.
…
Everything had happened in under five seconds.
The surrounding guards, too distracted by Wade's gunfire, hadn't noticed the brief scuffle. Now, suddenly, Robert's limp body landed between them like a sack of bricks.
Gasping, Robert forced himself up, clutching his stomach. His healing factor kicked in, but the pain still made his eyes water.
Think fast.
"This guy's got backup!" he shouted. "One of the subjects turned traitor! Don't hold back—shoot him dead!"
Without missing a beat, Robert lifted his rifle and fired in Francis's direction.
The guards, still reeling from the ambush, saw Robert in uniform and responded instinctively.
Rat-tat-tat!
Gunfire erupted again, this time aimed toward Francis's position.
"Are you kidding me!?" Francis roared as bullets tore into the bunker around him. He ducked down, covering his head.
"YOU IDIOTS! I'M FRANCIS! YOU'RE SHOOTING ME!"
The guards hesitated, confused.
Robert wore a convincing look of shock. "Wait a second… You mean Francis was undercover this whole time? Masquerading as the boss?!"
The guards blinked, processing.
One of them muttered, "Holy hell… Francis is the traitor?"
It was all the confirmation Robert needed.
Before they could second guess, he spun, aimed his rifle at the still-uncertain guards, and opened fire.
Bang! Bang! Bang!
Three dropped instantly.
"Apologies, boys. I'm with the good guys," Robert quipped. "Police business."
At that moment, Wade stepped out from behind the wreckage, casually clapping his hands. "Bravo, kid. If I were a judge, I'd give you a 9.9. You only lost a point for not shooting Francis in the a**."
Robert gave Wade a confused look. "Wait… who are you?"
Wade froze mid-stride. "I'm Wade. Wade Wilson. We've literally been bunkmates for a month."
Robert shook his head, deadpan. "Nope. Can't be. Wade's not nearly this… handsome."
That struck a nerve.
"It's the dish soap's fault!" Wade screamed, unloading a barrage of bullets toward Francis's cover. "Look what you did to my face! You ruined thousands of women's dreams!"
As the last of the guards dropped, the firefight ended.
Francis slowly stood up from behind the barrier, hands raised, calm as ever.
"You're not going to kill me," he said, smugly. "I'm the only one who can fix that face of yours."
Wade snarled. "You're right. I won't kill you… yet. But I'll rip off your a**, glue it to your mouth, and force you to taste what you've been spewing."
Robert took a slow step away from Wade.
"Seriously, dude. Disgusting."
Then—
Thud. Thud. Thud.
Heavy footsteps echoed through the ruined corridor.
Both men turned toward the noise.
A large figure emerged from the smoke.
A woman. Towering. Muscular. Covered in body armor.
Without pause, Robert and Wade raised their rifles and opened fire.
Bang! Bang!
The woman didn't even flinch.
The bullets hit her, ricocheting off with sharp metallic clinks. Her body rang like a steel drum.
"What the hell…" Robert muttered.
She closed the distance with terrifying speed.
WHAM!
Her fist struck Robert first.
The sound of compressed air echoed through the chamber.
His rifle shattered in half.
Her fist didn't stop.
It drove into his chest like a wrecking ball.
The world blurred.
Robert's body rocketed backwards, slammed into the far wall with bone-crunching force, and crumpled to the floor.
He coughed violently, blood spilling from his lips. His chest caved in, internal organs bruised, maybe even ruptured.
If it weren't for his immortality…
He'd be dead.
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