Chapter 11: Old Shoulders Are Slippery
Terri still held up her DV camera, speaking to the group in disbelief.
"Come on, those people are Umbrella mercenaries. They're not spending your tax money."
Supporting the hopping Deadpool, Peyton didn't feel at all like he was helping someone disabled.
Because Deadpool had shifted all his weight to the other side—onto Jill—and kept leaning his head that way. Now it was resting on Jill's bare shoulder.
Tsk tsk tsk. So fragrant, so soft, so smooth.
Didn't they say old shoulders were slippery?
This shoulder wasn't old at all.
Jill: (!￣︿￣)
Her expression grew darker and darker until finally she couldn't take it anymore. She pressed Deadpool's head and pushed him away, then walked two steps forward, drawing and chambering her pistol: "Peyton, you support him. I'll keep watch."
Deadpool's head was pushed, and with the momentum he flopped in the opposite direction, landing on Peyton's shoulder.
So broad, so thick, so warm.
"Oh, I should've been on this side all along! This shoulder is warm and broad—way more comfortable!"
Jill: ...
Well, you're certainly not picky.
Peyton: ...
His face was already dark enough—couldn't get any darker. Any darker and he'd become a black hole, and everyone present would be trapped with no escape.
This is my lifesaver. This is my lifesaver. This is my lifesaver!
Peyton forcefully suppressed his urge to abandon Deadpool and continued supporting him forward.
After another stretch of silence, Deadpool yawned. Damn this broad shoulder—it was making him drowsy.
Speaking of which, if he asked Peyton to carry him on his back, Peyton probably wouldn't refuse, right?
Then he could sleep peacefully?
Just as his eyes were about to close, Deadpool felt a sharp pain in his face.
SLAP!
He struggled to lift his head from the broad shoulder, staring in shock at Peyton, who'd just given him a massive slap.
Peyton looked at Deadpool anxiously: "Buddy, you can't sleep!"
Deadpool was confused, a question mark slowly rising over his forehead.
"I'm Peyton, an officer with Raccoon City Police Department's Special Tactics and Rescue Service—STARS. That's Jill up front, also a STARS member."
Peyton changed the subject, introducing himself and Jill to Deadpool.
In his view, Deadpool's gunshot wound had been contaminated by zombie blood. He was most likely infected with the zombie virus—not long for this world.
This made him feel quite guilty.
If not for saving him, Deadpool wouldn't have ended up like this.
"I'm Terri, an active reporter with Raccoon City Television."
Terri, holding her DV camera, also introduced herself.
"You can call me Deadpool."
"Dead Pool? I'll just call you Pool then."
"No, no, no."
Deadpool waved his hand: "That's my superhero codename. Deadpool!"
"Superhero codename?"
Peyton glanced at Deadpool's skintight suit: "So this outfit is your superhero costume?"
"Yes. Pretty cool, right?"
"Yes, very cool."
Peyton praised insincerely: "Red and black—you must be copying Spider-Man's costume, right?"
Hearing this, Deadpool exploded with rage, lifting his head: "Listen, Peyton. Even though Parker and I have a great relationship, timeline-wise, I'm his senior. If anyone's copying, HE copied ME!"
Peyton's dark face showed confusion, not understanding why Deadpool suddenly got so worked up: "Okay, whatever you say."
"Wait, you actually know about Spider-Man?"
Resting his head comfortably back on Peyton's shoulder, Deadpool asked curiously.
"Who didn't have superhero dreams as a kid?"
Peyton said somewhat embarrassedly: "Marvel's Captain America, Thor, Spider-Man, and DC's Superman, Batman, Green Lantern, stuff like that."
"You actually know about Green Lantern?"
"Huh?"
"You know about that damn Canadian, but not me, Deadpool?"
Deadpool was furious. Extraordinarily furious.
That was his humiliation. Although timeline-wise it didn't exist yet, humiliation was humiliation—a humiliation time couldn't erase!
"Are you supposed to be copying some famous superhero?"
Seeing Deadpool like this, Peyton's mouth twitched.
"Listen—mercenary background, martial arts master, specializes in katanas and pistols, possesses super powerful healing abilities..."
Deadpool tried to jog Peyton's memory.
A lightbulb went off. Peyton blurted out: "Deathstroke?"
Deadpool: ...
"Wade. Wade Wilson. Thanks."
After saying this, he seemed instantly drained of all energy, flopping limply back onto Peyton's shoulder, falling completely silent.
Fine.
His big cousin won this round!
Of course, getting Deadpool to stay silent for long was impossible.
Especially after he'd been dissed.
After a while.
"Why are you looking around so nervously?"
Deadpool watched Peyton glancing left and right, asking curiously.
"I'm keeping watch."
"You're scared of those things?"
"Of course. Who isn't?"
"Come on. Right now, anyone can be scared—except you."
Lifting his hand to pat Peyton's nearby dark face, Deadpool spoke in a tone suggesting Peyton was messing with him: "You've got this apocalypse-epic-level dark night skin. Find a corner, take off your clothes, close your mouth and eyes—what zombie could even see you?"
"Wade, that's not funny."
"You're right. That's not funny."
Deadpool nodded seriously: "That's survival wisdom I'm teaching you."
Peyton: ...
Gee, thanks.
"Guys!"
Just then, Jill—walking ahead—suddenly stopped, her expression grave as she looked forward.
There, a group of zombies crouched on the ground, greedily feasting on several unfortunate souls. The zombies closest to them had already lifted their heads, their pupil-less eyes cloudy and white, staring fixedly at them.
Tutorial time was over. This hastily formed team was finally facing their first wave of zombies.
The next moment, these zombies stood up, let out explosive roars that alerted their companions in the horde, and surged toward them.
"Aim for their heads!"
BANG! BANG! BANG!
After her shout, Jill fired first. Three shots hit the foreheads of the three leading zombies with perfect precision.
Incidentally, her weapon was a personally modified Smith & Wesson S&W 5946 pistol—silver body, somewhat small, which didn't quite match her tough woman image.
Also incidentally, though once chosen as standard issue by many police departments, this gun was ultimately discontinued in 1999 due to not meeting market demands and better options being available, making it quite rare in modern times.
Terri held up her DV camera high, immediately shrinking behind Peyton. Peyton drew his service weapon and likewise fired repeatedly at the horde.
His marksmanship was visibly worse than Jill's, but he had basic accuracy. Under their combined fire, the horde rapidly thinned.
But such loud gunfire couldn't possibly not attract attention. The successive sounds of shattering glass rang out as large numbers of zombies poured from shops on both sides.
...
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