Marvel : Titles

"It's YOU!!" Francis shouted. Hearing the familiar sentence pattern, his pupils shrank suddenly.

In response to Francis yelling, Val calmly raised the rifle in his hand to aim at Francis' head and without saying a word, pulled the trigger.

Despite never having used a gun before, Val at least understood the basics, like "don't forget to turn the safety off" and "the loud end is the dangerous one." That was enough, right?

From the moment he laid eyes on Francis, Val had one thought: This bastard needs a bullet to the brain.

At this range, there was no way Francis could dodge. Simple physics. Bullets travel fast. Heads stay put. Easy kill.

Except Val wildly underestimated how fast Francis could move.

Before the bullet even got the chance to prove Val right, Francis instinctively reached out, smacked the barrel downward and sent the bullets into the floor instead.

"Damn! You're fast—" Val barely got the words out just as a very large fist became uncomfortably close to his face.

Oh, that's not good.

With no time to think, Val threw up his arms in a desperate block. But the moment the blow connected, he could swear he heard his brittle bones crack. 

The sheer force of the punch rattled Val's brain so hard he suddenly remembered every bad decision he'd ever made—including trying to fight this guy.

Francis wasn't just some muscle-bound factory manager—he was something else entirely. His movements, his power… it all reminded Val of scenes from the movie. And as a mutant himself, Francis was no ordinary human. He was enhanced. Stronger. More durable. Worse, his pain receptors had been surgically removed, meaning he wouldn't even flinch. A living, breathing boss fight.

Still, Val refused to let go of the rifle.

Francis quirked an eyebrow, slightly impressed. Then he snorted and swung again.

The force of his next punch cut through the air with a sharp whoosh.

Val, thinking fast, lunged forward instead of backward, grabbing Francis's arms in an attempt to throw him off balance.

Bad idea.

Francis barely budged. Instead, he adjusted his stance, twisted his waist, and kicked Val straight in the gut with enough force to make him regret eating today's breakfast.

Val went airborne. Not the cool, superhero kind—more like the "human ragdoll" kind.

With absolutely zero control over his trajectory, he crash-landed right in the middle of a group of guards, who all turned to stare at him like he'd just fallen out of the sky.

This series of events all happened in less than ten seconds. The guards, who were still fighting with Wade, didn't know what was happening behind them. They were unaware of anyone even entering the area until they saw Val suddenly fall in the middle of them.

Despite the searing pain in his abdomen, Val forced himself to his feet and shouted, "This bastard has backup! Brothers, take them out—now!"

Without hesitation, he raised his rifle and fired at Francis.

If there was one thing Val had learned in life, it was that people tended to follow authority—especially when that authority looked like them.

Sure enough, seeing that Val was dressed in the same uniform, the guards instinctively took his words at face value and opened fire in the same direction.

Francis barely had time to process the stupidity unfolding before him before bullets started whizzing past his head.

"Are you serious?!" he yelled as he dove behind the table, shielding his head. "Use your goddamn brains! You're shooting at me!"

The guards hesitated. Some even exchanged confused glances, as if realizing they might have made a mistake.

Val seized the opportunity, putting on his best shocked and betrayed expression. "So it's true…" he gasped dramatically. "Ajax has been an undercover agent this whole time! Playing us all for fools! Walking around like he actually runs this place! Don't fall for his lies—just shoot!"

The guards hesitated, their one collective brain cell struggling to process this new information in the chaos.

Unfortunately for them, by the time they did realize they'd been duped, Val had already swung his rifle in their direction.

Boom.

The muzzle flared, and in an instant, the guards crumpled to the ground, their weapons falling silent.

Val stood motionless, his breathing heavy. He had just killed several people in the span of seconds. The weight of it settled over him, but the chaos of the moment left no time to dwell. He swallowed the unease and steadied himself.

Eh, I'll deal with the moral crisis later.

A slow clap echoed from nearby.

"A spectacular performance." Wade said as he stepped out from cover, a smirk stretching across his disfigured face. "If this were a reality show, I'd give you a solid nine out of ten. You lost a point for not delivering a dramatic monologue first."

Val stared at him for a long moment, his gaze flicking over the scars and burns covering Wade's face. After an awkward silence, he finally asked, completely serious, "Who the hell are you?"

Wade's grin faltered. "What? You seriously don't recognize your dashing buddy, Wade?"

Val shook his head. "Impossible. Wade's not nearly as handsome as you."

Wade blinked.

For a second, there was silence.

Then—

"THAT BASTARD!" Wade snapped, spinning toward Francis' cover and unleashing a volley of bullets. "Get out here, you son of a bitch! Look at what you did to my face! You ruined the heartthrob of thousands of women—and a few very lucky men!"

As the last of the guards lay dead, Francis—cool as ever—stepped out from behind his cover with his hands raised, looking completely unbothered.

Val sighed. "Oh good, he's surrendering."

Wade reloaded. "Nah, he's just letting us think he's surrendering so he can monologue. Watch, he's about to say some dramatic shit like—"

Francis rolled his shoulders and smirked. "You two are more troublesome than I expected."

Wade threw up his hands. "SEE?! Called it!"

Francis smirked, the corner of his mouth curling in amusement. "You won't kill me. Only I can fix your face, make you look like your old self again."

Wade tilted his head, considering it for half a second. Then he pointed his rifle straight at Francis' head. "You're right—I won't kill you."

Francis raised an eyebrow.

"I'll cut off your ass and stick it to your mouth so you can literally talk shit for the rest of your life."

Val, who had been listening quietly, made a face. "That's… disgusting, bro."

Wade grinned. "Disgusting? Nah. Creative."

Before Val could argue, the heavy sound of approaching footsteps echoed in the distance. Both of them snapped their heads toward the noise.

A woman was sprinting toward them at full speed.

Without hesitation, Val and Wade lifted their rifles and opened fire.

Val's instincts told him something was off, but he only realized why a second later—The bullets hit her square in the chest but didn't do a damn thing. They bounced off her body, ringing like they had struck solid metal.

Val's eyes widened. "Oh, come on—"

Before he could finish, she was already in front of him. Her fist came fast. Too fast.

A thought flashed in Val's mind—Isn't she—

Too late. He had hesitated. In a last-ditch effort, he raised his rifle to block the incoming blow. Deep down, he knew it wouldn't help, but hey—better than nothing.

It wasn't.

Her fist shattered the rifle like it was made of cheap plastic, and the full force of her punch slammed into his chest.

The world around him blurred.

It felt like he had been hit by a freight train. His body flew backward like a ragdoll, colliding with the wall so hard that the concrete cracked on impact

He coughed, spitting out a mixture of blood and what he was really hoping wasn't an internal organ.

Flat on his back, struggling to stay conscious, Val's first coherent thought was—

'Yeah. That's definitely her.'