"It's... not good!"
Wade's pupils shrank sharply.
Aren't Rorschach's eyes exactly like that mutant they captured not long ago—the one who could shoot lasers?
Can this guy shoot lasers from his eyes too?
Bang!
In the next instant, two blazing beams of heat blasted toward Wade.
A wave of imminent death surged over him.
At such close range, there was no time to dodge.
But Wade wasn't just anyone—he was Stryker's top fighter, a high-level combatant with freakish reflexes.
He had a reputation for slicing bullets out of the air at close range with his twin swords. Killing a guy like him wouldn't be that easy, even for Rorschach.
Boom!
The sound of metal clashing echoed as Wade whipped out the long sword strapped to his back and raised it just in time.
Clang!
Rorschach's heat vision slammed into the blade, the force behind it so great that it knocked the sword backward—smashing into Wade's chest like a sledgehammer.
Wade flew backward like a ragdoll.
He hit the ground with a bone-crunching crash, tumbling like a dead dog.
But Rorschach wasn't done. His heat rays chased after Wade, slicing the air with deadly precision. Wade scrambled like a wild monkey—jumping, rolling, dodging left and right.
It was chaotic, but he managed to narrowly avoid getting roasted.
Could Rorschach kill Wade in five seconds?
No one knew.
Rorschach figured he could take Wade down with a little more time—but five seconds was cutting it close.
And let's not forget, Stryker's other agents weren't exactly amateurs.
Snick!
The air cracked as several tranquilizer rounds were fired from different angles.
These darts moved slower than regular bullets, but Rorschach's vision and motion-tracking were on another level now.
Every dart was crystal clear in his view.
And his body? More than fast enough to keep up.
He didn't even flinch.
Instead, he flicked his hands in front of him—snap! snap! snap!—and caught every tranquilizer round out of the air.
"Heh."
Rorschach sneered and looked toward the agents who fired. Then, without hesitation, he snapped his wrists forward.
Snick!
The tranquilizer darts flew from his hands like throwing knives.
Whoosh!
They tore through the air—so fast, they blurred.
Stronger than when fired from a gun, each dart slammed into its target with stunning force.
The agents didn't even have time to react. They were hit squarely—and dropped like sacks of bricks.
The impact wasn't like a dart—it was like they'd been hit by shotgun blasts.
Gulp!
Someone swallowed hard.
The remaining agents just froze, wide-eyed.
Sure, they were used to mutants. They'd seen plenty of them.
Stryker's island held dozens—each with unique powers. But most of them weren't strong fighters.
In fact, most couldn't fight at all.
Take Sabretooth, for example—he was one of Stryker's main enforcers. That showed the general power level of the average mutant.
But this? Rorschach?
This guy was something else entirely.
Whoosh!
A blade sliced through the air.
Wade had used the brief pause to reset. With twin swords flashing like lightning, he launched himself at Rorschach once more.
His blades gleamed with cold, lethal light as he charged forward with ferocious speed.
But at Rorschach's current level, being hit by those blades was out of the question.
He flickered to the side, moving at super speed, avoiding both strikes with ease.
Clang-clang!
Wade's twin swords slammed into the ground, sparking against stone and dirt.
In the same instant, Rorschach appeared behind him.
His iron-hard fist was already swinging toward Wade's spine.
A blow like that could kill a werewolf—he'd already done it before.
But Wade wasn't ordinary.
It was as if he had eyes in the back of his head—he flipped his right hand, swinging the sword backward in a tight arc.
The tip of the blade raced straight for Rorschach's chest.
Forced to retreat, Rorschach twisted away. That strike would've landed dead-on.
Wade didn't let the moment slip. He pivoted and came at Rorschach again—his twin swords lashing out like twin vipers.
"Deadpool!"
Rorschach's eyes narrowed with something like admiration.
Wade's technique was razor-sharp. Those twin swords moved like extensions of his arms.
Even though Rorschach could run at nearly 80 meters per second, he still couldn't take Wade down easily.
After all, what good was speed when your enemy could slice bullets out of the air?
And Wade could do just that. He could read and react to Rorschach's speed.
The simplest way to kill him would've been with heat vision—but Rorschach couldn't sustain that power at will just yet.
Still...
That didn't mean Wade was winning. There was still a massive gap in overall strength.
Rorschach could kill him.
It would just take a little more effort.
"All I can say is... Victor died for a reason."
As he analyzed Wade's performance, Rorschach gave silent credit where it was due.
Meanwhile, Wade was thinking the same thing.
As a swordmaster, he recognized that Rorschach's combat technique was crude. No finesse. No style. Unrefined.
But that didn't matter.
Because even with that sloppiness, Rorschach was still beating him down.
Which meant one thing—Rorschach's physical power was insane. Even stronger than Sabretooth's.
If Sabretooth didn't have that crazy healing factor, Wade would've put him down already.
But Rorschach?
He was on another level altogether.
"You die later, at least you won't die wrongly."
Rorschach raised an eyebrow at Wade, then turned his gaze toward a nearby tree.
The corner of his mouth curled into a smirk.
"You've got weapons... and I'm barehanded. Doesn't seem fair, does it?"
He stepped forward.
Rorschach reached out with both hands and gripped the trunk of a thick poplar tree.
Crack!
The ground groaned as soil and roots exploded upward in chunks.
The agents stared, dumbfounded.
Rorschach had just ripped the tree out of the ground like it was nothing.
Whoosh!
He gave it a few practice swings—just like it was a baseball bat.
And he looked real comfortable with it.
Like it wasn't a tree, but just the perfect-sized stick for the job.
...
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