Chapter 1181: It Would Be a Waste If You Don’t Star In Horror Movies

Luke watched with great interest as they bickered. He took off his Zorro hat and put it on the counter with one hand, and raised the beer bottle on the table with the other to his mouth.

The two people who had been engrossed in their argument couldn’t help but look over.

With a light crack, the smiling mask opened on the sides and withdrew into the collar of the combat outfit at the back to reveal the face of a middle-aged white man.

They stopped fighting and looked at each other.

Gulp.

Luke sipped his beer unhurriedly. “Why aren’t you fighting anymore?”

As he spoke, he picked up an unopened bag of chips from the counter. It was a milk chocolate flavor.

He tore it open and crunched a piece in his mouth. “Mm, it’s not bad, just a little sweet.”

Wade and Weasel were dumbfounded.

A moment later, Wade said, “You must be a fake V.”

“Huh?” Luke’s mouth was busy, and he gave Wade a puzzled look.

Wade said, “How can V have chips and beer? Shouldn’t you be like those English old men, and drink Lipton black tea and eat little teddy bear biscuits?”

Luke slowly picked up another chip, and in the same British accent, said, “I can understand the teddy bear biscuits, but are you talking about the Lipton tea bags?”

Wade: “That’s right.”

Luke said, “Never had that. I actually prefer Dr. Pepper.”

Weasel’s jaw almost hit the counter. Wait, are the two of you crazy? Or is it my worldview that’s the problem?

What the hell was with Lipton black tea and teddy bear biscuits and British old men?

Unfortunately, nobody paid attention to him.

Wade’s interest was piqued. “Wait, don’t talk yet. Why do I find you familiar?”

As he spoke, he leaned back and smacked Weasel on the counter. “Don’t you think he’s like that…”

Weasel also felt the same. “That’s right, he’s very similar to that guy who pushes the plot forward. Switch to a black suit and tie, and it would be 60 to 70% similar. Hm, but this is a high-end version.”

Wade nodded thoughtfully and asked Luke, “What’s your last name?”

Luke chuckled. “You can call me Mr. Smith if you want.”

Wade and Weasel had strange expressions on their faces as they said in unison, “Agent Smith?”

Luke turned around and gave them a “modest” smile.

Both of them exclaimed in unison. “That’s it. That’s the expression. Too similar.”

Luke couldn’t be bothered with them.

Actually, he just needed to make sure that Wade wasn’t going to kill himself.

Currently, this was the only mercenary he knew who was obsessed with money, had professional ethics, and was extraordinarily strong.

What he didn’t know at that moment was that Wade committing suicide would be the second most boring thing in the world if there was a list — watching him do it would be the first.

“So, what’s with Agent Smith?” he asked casually.

With that question, Wade poured out his sob story.

To put it simply, he passed out on Christmas Eve, and a hospital check-up revealed that he had cancer; he had less than a year to live.

It just so happened that Wade hadn’t touched the five million he had made, and Vanessa had looked for help everywhere for a month. In the end, she spent hundreds of thousands of dollars, but nobody could guarantee how long he could live for, not even as much as three to five years.

As a miser, Wade knew what was going on.

Those private, specialist cancer centers which said that there was still hope just wanted him to stay and spend his money. In any case, it wasn’t their fault if the cancer patients died.

In the end, when he came to the bar for a drink, he met a man in a black suit who claimed to work for the government’s medical branch. He looked a little like V, and Wade jokingly called him Agent Smith.

Supposedly, they were specially providing terminally ill patients a chance to recover, but this treatment was experimental; Wade could contact him if he was willing.

Less than a few days later, Wade chose to go ahead with it, since he knew that there was no chance of survival with regular medical treatment.

It was fine for him, but it was unfair to Vanessa to watch him get closer to death every day.

In the end, his terminal illness was cured by an imperfect experimental treatment which left him disfigured.

Wade didn’t go into detail about the treatment, and Luke didn’t ask.

He felt that this guy probably took some weird drug which killed the cancer cells and even made him stronger; the only drawback was that it made him look like a victim of radiation.

There were too many people in this world who specialized in illegal technology. All of William Stryker’s research materials were in Luke’s inventory, but he had no time yet to study them; why would he care about this “disfiguring” technology?

“I have to find that d*mn English guy and make him restore my face so that I can go see Vanessa,” Wade murmured to himself.

Weasel subconsciously looked at the person listening closely on the side, and said insincerely, “True feelings exist in the world. She loves you so much…”

Wade leaned in close. “With this face?”

Weasel couldn’t help but turn his head and retch. “Fine, that would indeed be a little difficult. But are you sure she doesn’t have strange taste?”

Wade said, “She liked me before because I was the most handsome man in the world back then, not because I look like an avocado that was raped.”

Weasel nodded in agreement. “You only have one option.”

Wade said, “Yes. Find Francis.”

Weasel said almost at the same time, “Star in horror movies.”

Wade was stunned. “What?”

Weasel said, “Look at your face. You’re like the main character in a horror movie. You don’t even need makeup. It would be a waste not to be an actor.”

Silent for a moment, Wade still returned to the topic at hand in the end. “To find Francis, I’ll start with his crew.”

Weasel shrugged. “Fine. In any case, he thinks you’re dead, right?”

Wade said, “The factory blew up. He must think I’m dead.”

Weasel said, “Then you need a super thick mask to cover your face so that he doesn’t know it’s you. Also, you need a codename. Hm, how about Wade the God of Death? Or Wade the Ghost?”

Wade waved his hand impatiently and got up. “I have a mask and a codename — Deadpool! All the bad guys will piss their pants in fear.”

Weasel couldn’t help but glance at a certain someone not far away. I’m about to piss my pants because of this guy. Can you hurry up and take him away? If you don’t, I’m going to run out of lines.

Fortunately, now that Wade had a plan, he was already immersed in the fantasy of recovering his appearance. He got up and left.

Luke chuckled and didn’t stop him.

Picking up his beer, he stood up as well.

With a crack, the smiling mask rose up to close over his face again. He picked up the Zorro hat from the counter. “Sweet dreams.”

After the black cloak disappeared from the door, Weasel took a deep breath and leaned against the liquor cabinet. “Motherf*cker, that was scary.”

If it wasn’t for his regular bullsh*t banter with Wade, he would’ve been paralyzed with fear.

It wasn’t that he was a coward, but that he couldn’t afford to offend Smiley Face; he didn’t want to mysteriously disappear like those hitmen.