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In the chaotic battle raging through Hell's Kitchen, the stench of gunpowder clung to the air like a choking fog. Bullets tore through the night like dragons of fire, roaring between shattered buildings and burning cars.
The X-Men had already scattered, vanishing like ghosts into the crossfire, their movements silent and efficient amid the destruction.
Wolverine—Logan—stood in the shadow of a crumbling alleyway, puffing slowly on a cigarette. His face was calm, almost bored, as if the chaos erupting around him had nothing to do with him.
Bullets zipped past him, one after another, but he didn't flinch. Not once.
He tilted his head back, gazing up at the glowing full moon. A faint smirk curved the corner of his lips.
"This war's a drag. Wonder if there's a bar still open in this dump. Could use a damn drink," he muttered, his gravelly voice tinged with sardonic weariness.
But he knew better. This was Hell's Kitchen, now a warzone ruled by Alex Ray, the so-called Lord of Hell. Even if bars had once lined these streets, they'd long since been shuttered—or blown to pieces.
Nobody would be stupid enough to serve drinks during a firefight. Not unless they had a death wish.
Logan sighed and closed his eyes, but just as he began to sink into his thoughts, a voice cut through the night like a whisper behind his ear.
"Yo, brother, looking for a place to drink too? I like your style. Want a drinking buddy?"
Logan's eyes snapped open. He spun around, claws itching to pop, every muscle tense with suspicion.
This was Hell's Kitchen. The heart of Alex Ray's domain. Anyone who crept up unannounced had to be either suicidal—or extremely dangerous.
"Who's there? Show yourself!" Logan growled, his voice low and full of warning.
Just then, a figure dropped from a nearby second-story rooftop, landing with a clumsy stumble that nearly sent him crashing to the pavement.
The red suit, the twin katanas strapped to his back—it was unmistakable.
Deadpool.
Logan narrowed his eyes, watching the mercenary flop onto the ground with a groan, one hand on his lower back.
"Damn it, I was going for a superhero landing," Deadpool grumbled to himself. "Sprained my back instead. Karma's a real bitch."
He lay there for a beat before propping his chin in his palms and giving Logan a lazy grin.
Logan's expression darkened. Deadpool was one of Alex Ray's people. Which meant he was unpredictable, dangerous… and annoyingly talkative.
"You one of the good guys? X-Men? Avenger? Something like that?" Deadpool asked, eyeing him curiously.
Logan narrowed his eyes. "You know me?"
Deadpool shrugged. "Not really. But your face screams 'tragic backstory.' Bet you've got a hell of a tale. What do you say? I've got booze. You've got trauma. Let's share."
Logan's claws slid out with a metallic snikt, catching the moonlight. He was done playing around.
Deadpool whistled, impressed. "Ooh, shiny. Does that hurt when they pop out? Like, do you feel that? Is it like stabbing yourself every time?"
Logan lunged.
But Deadpool danced back effortlessly, as if he'd been expecting it. He twirled to the side and peered at Logan's claws with genuine curiosity.
"Okay, okay, serious question—do those pop out anywhere else? Like, down south? 'Cause that would really suck for your love life."
Logan growled, his patience almost gone. This clown was treating him like a sideshow exhibit.
Deadpool poked one of the claws lightly. "Whoa. That's metal. Like, actual metal. What's your mutant power, man—internal hardware?"
Logan lunged again, swinging furiously. Deadpool deflected the attacks with his swords, still running his mouth the entire time.
"What's your name? You got a codename, or are you one of those 'just call me Logan' types?"
"You with the X-Men?"
"Do you know Ganglishi? No? Never mind, I think that's from a fanfic…"
"Come on, man, just one drink? I swear it's good stuff!"
"There's this dive bar nearby. Not much left of it, but the jukebox still works. Girls aren't working tonight, though—war and all."
Logan remained silent. His eyes were locked on Deadpool, focused and feral. He lunged again, claws slicing through the air with deadly precision.
This time, one found its mark.
Blood welled from a shallow gash across Deadpool's shoulder, staining his red suit even darker. But Deadpool barely reacted.
Instead, he retaliated with a sharp upward slash of his own, his blade catching Logan across the chest. Blood splattered across his shirt, soaking it instantly.
Logan gritted his teeth against the pain but didn't retreat. If anything, he pressed forward, his resolve hardening like adamantium.
The two combatants stepped back simultaneously, eyes locked.
Deadpool eyed the gash on Logan's chest—and blinked in surprise as it began to slowly close. Flesh knitting together, blood flow halting.
"No way," Deadpool said, his voice hushed with awe. "You heal too? Like, for real?"
Logan didn't answer. He simply stared at Deadpool, studying him more closely now. There was something familiar about the way this lunatic shrugged off wounds.
Could he really have the same regenerative ability?
Logan decided to find out the old-fashioned way.
With another furious roar, he rushed forward, claws gleaming under the moonlight.
Deadpool didn't just dodge—he vaulted over a mailbox, flipped mid-air, and landed behind Logan.
"Okay, now you're just being a buzzkill," Deadpool whined, spreading his arms dramatically. "Come on, let's bond over our shared trauma and questionable fashion choices!"
Logan spun and slashed, forcing Deadpool back again.
"You're relentless," Deadpool muttered, parrying another strike. "Seriously, though—do you ever talk?"
Logan didn't respond.
"Not even a name? A birthday? Astrological sign?"
Nothing.
"I'll guess. You're a Scorpio. Total Scorpio vibes."
Logan swung again, his claws barely missing Deadpool's throat.
"Yikes, moody much? You're definitely a Scorpio."
Deadpool ducked, rolled, and popped back up with a grin. "Okay, if we're not gonna be friends, can we at least be frenemies? You stab me, I stab you, we bond—it's like therapy."
Another slash. Another dodge.
Deadpool was still smiling, but behind the mask, even he was sweating a little.
This guy wasn't just tough—he was relentless.
For a moment, both men stood still. Blood on the pavement. Breathing ragged. Eyes locked.
Deadpool finally broke the silence.
"...So about that drink?"
Logan growled and lunged again.
Deadpool sighed. "Fine. No drink. Guess it's just another night in Hell's Kitchen."
The moon hung high above the battlefield, silent witness to the clash between two immortals—both broken in their own ways, both impossible to kill, and both far too stubborn to walk away.
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As the plot unfolds, it dives deep into the Spider-Verse, Avengers War and the Marvel Multiverse, weaving in epic elements from Endgame, God of Stories Loki, Kang the Conqueror, the Council of Kangs, the Council of Reeds, and even Franklin Richards.
Expect mind-bending twists with Deadpool breaking the fourth wall, going on a rampage that includes killing everyone... even the authors themselves.
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Bonus Chapter - 150 Power Stones
2nd Bonus Chapter - 300 Power Stones
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đź“š Enjoying the Story? Get Ahead Now!
Can't wait for the next twist or epic moment?
Join my Patreon and unlock 40+ advanced chapters—read ahead of everyone else! 🔥
👉 https://www.patreon.com/UK21
Your support means the world to me—thank you so much! 💖
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