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Chapter 138 Deadpool Massacres All Marvel
🕑 Added 2025-10-21 13:10:15 +0000 UTCWhile Allens was busy designing his next-generation armor inside Stark Tower, a sudden flash of light streaked across the skies above New York. A figure wearing a red bodysuit and carrying two katanas on his back appeared out of thin air.
“Oh, shit! Something definitely went wrong with that time jump.”
A loud, sarcastic voice rang out as the red figure plummeted through the clouds, heading straight toward the city below at an insane speed.
“Wait, wait—don’t tell me this is how I die this time. Seriously? People out there are gonna laugh their asses off. They’ll say, ‘Hey, look! Deadpool’s so dumb he fell to his death!’ Classic me.”
Even as he fell, the red-suited man with black eye patches kept muttering nonstop to himself.
BOOM!
A sickening crash echoed through the streets. Like an egg smashed on a rock, the figure hit the ground and turned into a bloody, broken mess.
“F***! Congrats, folks — your handsome little bastard Deadpool is now officially a puddle of meat again!”
A few seconds later, the mangled corpse twitched.
“Okay, so this is the MCU, huh? Gotta say, compared to the comics, this place feels... weaker. But whatever — I love it here.”
Deadpool — the merc with a mouth, blessed (or cursed) with a Regenerative Healing Factor and an extremely broken brain — was no stranger to bizarre situations. His mind operated differently, allowing him to break the fourth wall and perceive the truth of multiple realities.
And this wasn’t his first jump across universes. For reasons even he couldn’t remember, Deadpool had decided to massacre every version of the Marvel Universe he could find. Before arriving in this one, he’d already slaughtered countless others.
“Now, where the hell did I land this time? What year is it again?”
The puddle of flesh on the ground started squirming. Within an hour, Deadpool’s body completely regenerated. He stood up in an empty alley somewhere in Manhattan, brushed the dust off his suit, and looked around.
“Yo, handsome! What year are we in?”
Deadpool strutted out of the alley and spotted a tall, muscular man walking by. He patted the man’s stomach and grinned beneath his mask.
“It’s 2008, you cross-dressing freak,” the man growled, scowling down at him.
“Cross-dresser? No, no, no — the name’s Deadpool. Wade Wilson. The sexiest, funniest, most violent guy in X-Men— oh wait, that’s right. Copyright issues. I forgot the MCU doesn’t have the X-Men yet. My bad.”
He shrugged dramatically. “Anyway, doesn’t matter. MCU heroes are nerfed as hell. Even the Hulk got downgraded.”
Deadpool tilted his head. “Hey, stud, I didn’t get your name!”
The man frowned deeper. “You’re annoying, little freak.”
It was Ivan Vanko — the Russian mechanical engineer who would one day become Whiplash. He was currently working for Hammer Industries, maintaining his rough, Soviet-era look — bulky, grim, and perpetually irritated.
Today was supposed to be his delivery day — bringing the mechanical armor he’d built for Hammer Industries. The last thing he wanted was to deal with some loudmouth idiot in red spandex.
“Hey, you’re not the first one to say I’m annoying,” Deadpool said cheerfully, tapping his chin. “Wait a minute... I know that face! Damn, it’s on the tip of my tongue… Oh! You’re that guy with the electric whips! Iron Man’s second villain! Whiplash!”
Ivan just muttered under his breath, “Crazy bastard,” and walked off toward the Hammer Industries building.
At the main entrance, Justin Hammer, the smug CEO of Hammer Industries, greeted him with his usual fake smile.
“Ah, Mr. Ivan Vanko! Right on time! You know, I’m about to hold a press conference. Couldn’t have you show up late, could we?”
His voice carried both excitement and a hint of complaint.
Meanwhile, Deadpool stood in the distance, his eyes gleaming behind his mask.
“Ohhh, right. Ivan Vanko. Whiplash. One of Tony Stark’s early villains.”
He pulled out his Adamantium katanas with a wicked grin. “Guess I’ll start my MCU massacre with you, Mr. Whiplash.”
Justin Hammer suddenly noticed Deadpool approaching and yelled, “Hey! You in the red pajamas! Get the hell outta here before I make you regret it!”
SHNK!
Before Hammer could even finish his sentence, Deadpool plunged both blades straight through Ivan Vanko’s chest.
Ivan gasped, eyes wide. “You… you bastard… why?”
Deadpool leaned in close, his tone cheerful. “Oh, come on, Mr. Whiplash. Don’t look at me like that. You’re the first on my MCU hit list — but not the last. Consider it my way of saying thanks. I’ll even kill Tony Stark for you later so you’re not lonely in hell. How’s that for generosity?”
He yanked the blades free, letting Ivan collapse to the ground, lifeless.
“F***! What the hell are you doing, you lunatic?!” Justin Hammer roared, pulling a pistol from his coat and firing wildly.
BANG! BANG! BANG!
Bullets tore through Deadpool’s torso, spraying blood everywhere. Deadpool looked down at the holes in his chest, sighed, and wiped his blades clean.
“Sir, you really need to work on your aim,” he said mockingly. “It’s like watching a stormtrooper audition.”
Unbeknownst to either of them, high above the Hammer Industries building, a cloaked Iron Man armor hovered silently. Its stealth systems recorded everything.
Back in the Stark Tower lab, J.A.R.V.I.S.’s calm voice echoed through the speakers.
“Sir, something unexpected has occurred.”
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