Chapter 13: Probably AE and PR
Zombie Deadpool.
A miraculous Deadpool who—despite possessing a healing factor—got carelessly chopped up by a propeller, losing his entire body except his head.
Maybe he should dimension-hop a few more times and see if he could randomly encounter that dead head and learn from his experience?
...
In the dark environment, prolonged silence made the atmosphere oppressively stifling. Reporter Terri felt her breathing becoming labored. The thick darkness surrounding them seemed to harbor monsters with mouths full of fangs and gaping maws, ready to surge out at any moment and devour her piece by piece.
Her heartbeat quickened. Finally unable to bear this oppressive feeling, she suddenly stood up, gasping heavily: "I need to get out."
Then Jill forcefully pressed her back down into her chair with a THUD.
"If you feel like you can't survive, I can give you a bullet. But don't try to drag us down with you."
"ROAR!"
A beast's roar came from above and behind them. Everyone's backs went cold. Jill reacted fastest, turning and looking up. A thin, long red tongue was already right in front of her face!
SLASH!
Silver light flashed. The long tongue was severed in half, spraying red-black filthy blood. Immediately after, a blood-red figure couldn't suppress its pain, falling from the wall and crashing onto the floor with a tremendous bang.
Peyton quickly turned on his flashlight. Only then did everyone see its appearance clearly.
No skin—blood-red muscle tissue was exposed directly to the air. The head was divided at the philtrum: above was a steaming, constantly quivering brain; below was a gaping maw full of fangs. From that mouth protruded a long tongue, continuously dripping foul blood.
The tongue had been slashed in half by Deadpool. The severed section writhed on the floor like a lizard's detached tail, jumping and wriggling continuously.
A Licker!
Everyone drew their guns and fired, but by then the Licker had recovered. Its clawed hands pressed against the ground. With a slight exertion of its thick limbs, it leaped up, tumbling several times before vaulting onto the ceiling.
All bullets hit the floor and walls. Including Deadpool, not a single bullet successfully hit the Licker.
Everyone followed the Licker's movement, looking up at the ceiling. Their hearts turned cold.
On the ceiling, four more Lickers clung quietly, scarlet tongues extended, saliva dripping from their tongues onto the ground, producing clear dripping sounds.
After Umbrella's numerous rounds of genetic mutation operations, their eyes had highly degenerated—vision almost completely lost. Correspondingly, the virus had greatly enhanced their hearing.
Even the slightest subtle sound would attract their attention.
"What the hell are those things?"
Holding a flashlight in one hand and a gun in the other, Peyton looked at the completely red monsters, his lips trembling as he asked quietly.
Deadpool shook his head: "No idea. Photoshop probably couldn't do it. Maybe After Effects and Premiere."
Question marks appeared over Peyton's forehead: "What?"
"Don't you think this thing's red color scheme is really awesome? Just like my costume."
Deadpool holstered his pistols, his hand lightly touching the hilt on his back.
Terri shrank behind Peyton, holding up her DV camera, also nervously watching the monsters on the ceiling: "Not really. I just think it's disgusting. Super disgusting."
"Tch. You have no taste."
Everyone spoke in hushed voices while their feet kept moving, slowly retreating toward a side room with an open door.
Of course, everyone knew clearly that they hadn't escaped the Lickers' detection at all, because all the Lickers' heads were facing their direction.
"They seem to be discerning something."
Jill, who'd entered the side room, turned and looked up, gun raised and aimed, staring intently at the Lickers on the ceiling—but not daring to shoot.
Facing these unprecedented monsters, she couldn't guarantee a one-hit kill. And even if she successfully killed one and alerted the others, they'd still be dead.
This had already been tested. The Lickers in motion were far beyond what her neural reflexes could hit. Jill even doubted whether she could hit a Licker with an assault rifle.
Plus, the church was spacious with no cover. The terrible terrain meant that right now, aside from hiding and praying, they could do nothing.
But as the saying goes: the bigger the tree, the more dead branches; the more people, the more idiots. And look—an idiot appeared.
Maybe two.
The shirt guy at the back watched the Lickers emit low growls from their throats while clinging motionless to the ceiling. Something stirred in his heart. He raised his pistol.
You might not believe this, but since childhood, he'd had a superhero dream.
"What are you doing?"
Terri, walking in front of him, noticed he hadn't followed. She turned back and saw this horrifying scene, crying out in alarm.
With this, Terri forgot to keep her voice down. Her clear female voice echoed through the vast church, reverberating quite piercingly. The several Lickers seemed activated by this sound, suddenly resuming movement and letting out explosive roars.
Peyton, who'd already entered the side room and successfully merged with the darkness, quickly stepped out two paces, covered her mouth, and pulled her inside.
BANG!
The shirt guy reflexively pulled the trigger. The gun muzzle flashed. The bullet spun out from the barrel, piercing through the air along its path, striking hard against the ceiling and leaving a bullet hole surrounded by cracks.
The Licker had long since left that position, lunging toward him with snapping jaws.
Seeing this, the shirt guy finally couldn't suppress the fear in his heart. He lifted his feet and ran toward the side room where everyone was.
Just as he was about to rush in, a leg in red tights extended from within, kicking hard into his abdomen.
Tremendous force struck. The shirt guy flew backward. The next instant, a red tongue like a sharp dagger came stabbing with a whooshing sound.
The hard ground seemed to turn to tofu the moment it contacted the long tongue, easily pierced through.
SLASH!
A ghostly figure flashed from the shadows. Blade light dazzled, forming an afterimage in mid-air. The Licker's strike missed. It hastily retracted its tongue and leaped onto the wall—but was still a step too late. The tip of its tongue was sliced off by the sharp blade.
A small section of tongue fell to the ground, foul blood spraying again. Only this time, no Licker fell.
The Licker with its tongue severed let out a pained shriek. Its four companions, hearing this roar, began restlessly darting rapidly across the ceiling and walls. Their clawed hands scraped against ceiling and walls, producing rustling sounds—like the Grim Reaper dragging a scythe to claim lives.
CRASH.
The shirt guy, kicked flying by Deadpool, smashed through a row of wooden chairs and collapsed to the ground with pained groans.
Deadpool looked down and discovered his kick had been too hard, the angle too perfect. A broken chair leg—or chair back or something—had pierced straight through the shirt guy's back and emerged from his chest, stained with bright red blood.
"Oh! Damn it!"
He froze for a moment, sheathed his blade, covered his mouth with both hands, and quickly jogged over to the shirt guy: "I didn't mean to, buddy."
Seeing the shirt guy's eyes widen as if trying to say something but only coughing up blood foam, he quickly said: "Don't talk! Hang in there!"
After speaking, Deadpool looked around. Finally, his eyes landed on the small wooden podium.