The Death Knell

This is a very majestic building, the white building towers into the sky, and the big sign above the door reads one line - 'Little Star Laboratory'.

It was a thunderstormy summer night. In a laboratory in this building, a handsome young researcher was tossing around a table of chemical equipment. The flashes of lightning from time to time made his face light up and darken. .

He usually works as a forensic examiner at the city police station, but he likes to use his own methods at night to punish those who have escaped legal punishment.

For example, they peeled off their skins, cut the bodies into pieces, and treated them with corrosive chemicals. Then, the corroded mucus was mixed into chemical waste, and the laboratory conducted strict environmental treatment.

That is to say, throw the waste barrel directly into the Atlantic Ocean.

It was dark and windy tonight, and he killed another corrupt official. However, after the killing, when he wanted to dispose of the body, he found that the 'corpse water' usually used to eliminate evidence was used up, so he had to temporarily prepare some more.

While waiting for the chemical reaction to occur, he secretly made something using materials from the laboratory.

It's the kind of thing that can make people feel happy inexplicably. Generally speaking, it's white powder or large crystals, the kind that people know. He has some mental illness and needs to rely on this kind of thing to keep his brain active.

He detached a round-bottomed flask from the equipment, scraped its inner wall with a small spoon, and then brought the crystals on the small spoon to his mouth to savor it carefully.

Then he spat aside and showed a satisfied smile, which looked a little ferocious in the dim light.

"A-grade good product, at least three plus numbers."

The young man said to himself with satisfaction.

As the evaporation continued, more and more white crystals appeared at the mouth of the inner wall of the flask. He kept scraping them into a small bag with a small spoon, full of joy like a farmer with a good harvest, but at the same time, he continued to scrape them into a small bag. As the distillation continued, the entire laboratory was filled with a strange smell.

He sniffed, frowned and thought for a while, then opened the window of the room next to him to get some air.

You must be careful when doing something like this now, otherwise when your colleague comes to work tomorrow, he will be exposed if he smells this smell.

As time passed by, he accumulated a bag full of white crystals, and then he was satisfied and turned off the heater, letting the chemical reaction gradually stop, and then...

He collected the bagasse and beet chips in a corner of the laboratory, then straightened up and did some stretching exercises.

"Sure enough, it is too troublesome to use contact membrane distillation to concentrate sugar in the laboratory. I can't bear the pain to save money next time, so I'd better go to the supermarket to buy it."

After saying that, he picked up the 'corpse water' prepared on another test bench, went to the disposal room next door to dispose of the corpse, mixed the corroded soup and water of the corpse with the sugar-refined garbage, and then poured In the unified waste bucket in the laboratory.

Then he returned to the test bench to pack up the instruments and equipment. Tonight was another fulfilling night, but he was also an ordinary person and it was time to go home and rest.

Halfway through the disassembly and cleaning process, he got into a dilemma while holding the distilling dish. Although the sugar in the sugar water had been scraped away, the distilled water should also have a sweet taste, right? This sugar cannot be wasted.

However, just as he was holding the glassware and preparing to drink, a bolt of lightning suddenly struck outside the window, hitting him and the chemicals accurately.

The lightning didn't burn him to a crisp, but it did make his skin peel off, turning him into a rotten avocado.

Colleagues discovered him when they came to work the next day and sent him to the hospital.

In the process of receiving treatment, Barry Wilson, who became like a stinky rotting corpse but survived, discovered that he had super powers. As long as he spoke all kinds of nonsense quickly, and when his upper and lower lips reached a certain speed, he would Can connect oneself to another dimension.

That red and black plane is full of all kinds of swear words. Even if you hear the curse words for a hundred years, they will never be the same, and there are all kinds of wonderful images, showing how to make people so angry that one Buddha is born and two Buddhas are born. Ascend to heaven.

There was a voice in the dark telling him that the energy surging in his body was called the power of the gods, and that special plane was also called the plane of the power of the gods. As long as he keeps doing bad things, he can live forever with this energy.

With such superpowers, who needs to be a forensic pioneer? He made himself a red and black uniform and named him Deadpool.

He's going to be a mercenary, an anti-hero.

.....................

"Seriously? You think this is your origin story?"

With a numb look on his face, Su Ming and Wade stood on a rooftop across the street from the hospital, watching the deadpool in the ward transforming his uniform with sheets.

That guy was stepping on the sewing machine very quickly and taking the time to stuff his mouth with a lot of sugar. It looked like he was seriously ill.

And this origin story is also very familiar to Su Ming. Can adding Wilson after Barry's name make the story his own? Not only did it copy The Flash, but it also had references to "The Forensic Doctor" and "Breaking Bad", which made Su Ming somewhat unable to find anything to complain about.

Besides, it’s true that Barry’s mother is dead, but his father is still alive in prison. What kind of orphan is this?

Wade shook his head. He took out a hot dog from nowhere and was sitting on the edge of the rooftop, his legs dangling, enjoying the good time.

After hearing his cousin's question, he asked vaguely: "Isn't this bad? It gives me a more reasonable explanation for my self-healing ability. Rich people play with technology, while losers rely on mutation. This is the threshold of a superhero. .”

"We are not superheroes." Su Ming crossed his arms expressionlessly.

"Yes, but antiheroes can also be considered heroes to a certain extent, right?" Wade finished eating the hot dog and was licking the mustard on his gloves with his sore-covered tongue. The scene was very disgusting.

Su Ming was already resistant enough to this. He smiled, sat down on the rooftop, and took out a drink from his pocket: "Maybe, the greater the ability..."

"The less responsible." Wade smiled and took away a bottle of wine, blowing on the bottle.

“The more choices there are.”

He looked at Wade's half-revealed face and shook his head. He finally understood that these were all constructed by Wade himself, origin stories on different timelines. Maybe his 'plot rationality gem' could be used again.

However, there were too many choices, and he couldn't decide which one he wanted, so he chose the strongest person he knew to help him choose.

This candidate is Su Ming.

This can be said to be an act of trust and intimacy. At least Su Ming will never take anyone to see his origin story. The risk is too high.

Wade was not stupid, he just fully believed that his cousin Deathstroke would be on his side, which made Su Ming feel a little touched.

Even though these stories were cheap, he was originally here to take a vacation.

So he and Wade clinked the bottles, finished their drinks, and then threw the empty bottles downstairs: "This one is not good, let's get another one."

Wade shrugged: "There's really nothing I can do about you, okay, let's move the pointer to 7052 and let's go."

Two bright lights flashed, and Deadpool and Deathstroke disappeared at the same time.