Collateral Damage (DeadpoolxOC)

XXII - Hearts and Minds

Deadpool stood in the eerie silence, blood still dripping from his blades, surveying the scene. The Ukrainian soldiers slowly emerged from their cover, eyes wide, torn between awe and pure horror. Their weapons hung useless at their sides—no need to fire a shot when the battlefield had been painted red already.

He blinked, scanning their faces. Well, maybe except for that kid—the one who took down that one Russian like a damn pro. He gave the boy a subtle nod.

"Spidey might've tried to give you a lecture about not killing people, but Venom? Venom would be sending you a thank-you card and maybe a complimentary symbiote. Just don't ask him for relationship advice—he's clingy as hell."

"Alright, boys," Wade continued, slapping his hands together. "Island's clear, and I didn't even charge you for the entertainment. But if you're gonna write about this in your history books, make sure you mention the part where I made the Russians crap their pants. It's important."

Hotskyi stepped forward, his posture straight, but his expression torn between shock and something close to admiration. His thick Eastern European accent made his English sound heavier, but the words were clear enough. "You... did all this?" He gestured broadly at the carnage—the scattered bodies, the burning wreckage, his hands still shaking from the adrenaline.

"You took out an entire Russian unit like it was nothing. I've seen war, but this? This is something else. Who... what the hell are you?

Deadpool spun around with a grin, flicking the last bit of gore from his blades before sheathing them. "What can I say? When you're good at something, you lean into it."

Hotskyi frowned slightly. "Maybe... too much?"

Deadpool threw his head back, laughing. "Too much? Buddy, this is me on an average day. Hell, I've done crazier stuff while half my limbs were missing." He clapped Hotskyi on the shoulder. "Enjoy the aftermath. There's plenty of Russian gear lying around. Think of it as a scavenger hunt. You're welcome."

**

One of the soldiers, clearly intrigued, couldn't help himself. While others began rifling through the wreckage, looting the fallen Russians for whatever useful they could find, this guy had his eyes glued to Deadpool's oversized sack, lying half-open nearby.

No glances toward the commander for approval, no second thoughts—just pure human curiosity. He reached for the edge of the bag, eyes wide like a kid sneaking a peek at his presents.

Deadpool's reflexes kicked in instantly. "HEY! Hands off, bud!" he yelled, lunging toward the soldier like the bag held his firstborn. ""That's classified S.H.I.E.L.D. tech, not your grandma's secret borscht recipe."

The soldier froze, but Deadpool's serious expression lasted all of two seconds before he grinned beneath his mask. "Ah, screw it. Go ahead, have a peek. S.H.I.E.L.D.'s got so much fancy shit, they probably won't even notice if a couple of toys go missing. Just, uh, maybe don't reverse-engineer anything. Last thing I need is Fury chewing me out for some Ukrainian Iron Man knocking at the Kremlin's door."

The soldier cautiously pulled out a long sniper rifle, sleek and far too light for its size, turning it over in his hands, while a couple of the others gathered around, their curiosity piqued. They leaned in, inspecting the high-tech design.

"Go on, make yourselves at home!" Deadpool chuckled, gesturing to the loot. "Just be careful with the one that says 'nuclear.' I'm not actually sure if it's a bluff."

But before the soldiers could dig any deeper into the sack, a new sound broke through the lingering quiet. The unmistakable chop-chop of helicopter blades. Deadpool immediately tensed, thinking it was more Russians coming to crash the party. He grabbed his katanas and stepped toward, ready for another round of carnage.