Chapter 6:

Watching the video feeds for a couple of weeks now, Wade was getting more and more anxious by the moment. Every time someone arrived to the tower to try and heal Peter, and ultimately failed, Wade would watch Peter be let down and break further.

At the first few times, Peter would get excited and have high hopes, only to be devastated when things didn't work out. More times than not, he will silently cry himself to sleep in his little web hammock.

[Which ultimately cause the tough merc with a mouth to do the same.]

Now? Now was even worse, Peter won't even acknowledge the efforts that were put into him, he'll just sit and wait for whatever is happening to be over, only to get back to his webbed room to sit on his bed for hours at a time. Sometime he will exercise on the ceiling, which brought a small smile to Wade's face, since he believed that maybe that made Peter feel better.

{Plus, he'd work out in his boxers, a delightful spectacle that everyone would be more than happy to be a viewer to, yum!}

One thing Wade was sure about though, the pep talks the Avengers will try to give him did nothing to make him feel any better.

When Peter started to hang out with Hawkeye, Wade calmed down somewhat, since he knew that Clint was a good man. But sometimes, it was so frustratingly awkward to watch the blind web shooter and deaf archer communicate, Wade wanted to hang himself. If reality TV was this uncomfortable, no one would've watch the damn thing in a million years.

"This can't be happening." Wade muttered to himself repeatedly, as he watched the small sleeping form of Peter lying on his bed.

{What is happening?} Yellow asked.

"Nothing!" Wade yelled. "That's the problem. They don't even try anymore. It's like they accepted this-" Wade motioned toward the computer screen. "This!"

[Maybe we should too.]

"No!" Wade all but roared at the top of his lungs, hands coming up the scratch his uncovered cheeks with blunt nails.

Changing the video feed to the common room where Clint, Tony and Steve were in, Wade talked to the screen "Common Avengers, you're all smart, think of something already!"

But to Wade's disappointment, the group was sitting at the bar, merely discussing Peter unrelated topics.

Moving around the bar, Tony turned to look at Steve when he addressed him "Wanna drink, Cap?"

Letting out an annoyed sigh, Steve said to the millionaire "For the last time, Tony, I don't drink, and even if I did- since the Super Soldier Serum, alcohol does not affect me whatsoever."

"Fucking serum…" Tony muttered under his breath, as if getting Steve Rogers drunk was his life goal, which was shattered yet again.

[Too bad Dr. Erskine is long gone, he would've probably been able to come up with some amazing serum to fix Spiderman.]

"Yeah…" Wade said, thinking silently.

"Hey, guys, what if there still is some type of an organization which deals with serums and fixing people?"

[You're not thinking about… Do you?]

{Oooh, I think we are.}

"What if the answer to our little problem was under our noses this entire time?" Wade asked, wild grin spreading on his face, causing his dried, yet slightly bloody, cheeks to crack.

[This is going to be one post traumatic mess.]

...

"Howdy there, Jacky boy!" Wade called as soon as Weasel answered the phone.

"What do you want, Wade?" Weasel asked, not even remotely ready to face the merc again.

"Ooh, you sound so happy to hear my pretty voice." Wade cooed. "Anyhoooo…" He started, "I need a tiny favor."

"Of course you do." Weasel sounded defeated.

"Ya." Wade confirmed. "So how fast can you get me SHIELD's files on Weapon X Project?"

"Why?" Weasel asked hesitantly, knowing the history of the merc and the organization.

Humming in faux thought, Wade said "Less questions, more answers, Honey."

"Okay… Pretty quickly, to be honest. I hacked their servers and archives years ago and I can still get inside fairly easy."

{Weasel is the best hacker evaaa.}

"Indeed he is." Wade confirmed.

"Who what is?" Weasel asked, confused.

"You."

"What?"

"Never mind that. So I need to find any base of operations of any extension of Weapon X, or some kind of a brainy scientist who used to be high up the ranks." Wade requested.

After a few moments of consideration, finally realizing he has no choice, Weasel said "Yeah, ok. I'll see what I can find. I'll call you in a few days."

"À tout à l'heur." Wade said, hanging up.

{Toodles!}

...

"So, the entire Weapon X project in Canada was dismantled, according to the files. There were a handful of alike departments in the States, but they were all shut down by our friends in SHIELD. I don't know what to tell you, it's either the project is truly gone, or that they've gotten really good at hiding their tracks." Weasel said to Wade, who currently made himself very comfortable on Weasel's couch.

"The Weapon X facility in Alberta was one of the last in its dimensions. And you blasted that mofo with all it's residents. No survivors left. Any other facility? SHIELD wiped them off the map entirely. All members of the organization were taken into custody and promptly erased from existence. According to the files, some of them are still locked up, but most are diseased."

"Huh." Wade voiced in thought.

"Yeah, sorry dude." Weasel said, smiling apologetically to Wade.

No, wait that can't be right. Scroll up a little. We didn't waste all the personnel when we broke out. Wade thought, a shudder going through him as he remembered the events leading to his escape.

"There was one survivor, though. A teen." He said out loud.

"Where?" Weasel asked, not following Wade's train of thought.

{Yea! What's his face!}

[Male, dark blonde hair, brown eyes, 65 kg approximately, 1.75 m.]

"Yeah…" Wade agreed with the boxes. "Canada." The merc said to Weasel. "We let him go after he pissed himself." Wade giggled. Nothing like urine soaked pants to lighten a grim situation.

"Not according to SHIELD's files." Weasel said, shaking his head.

"Do you have a list of all the employees who died that day?" Wade asked.

"Yes." Weasel said as he got up to sit at his desk. "Do you remember the name of the kid?" He asked as he opened the relevant files.

"Erm, no. Maybe Jay? Or Tom? Something short for sure." Wade said, scratching his head comically in thought.

"Let me check." Weasel said as he started reading the files. "There's a Robert, so maybe Bob or Rob?" He asked. "No, never mind, he was thirty seven."

"No… Maybe a Joel?" Wade tried.

[Joe.]

"No! Check for Joe!" He yelled way too loud for how close they were to each other.

"There were two Josephs; Joseph Abano and Joseph White. Both died that day."

"Is there any description of them? How old were they?"

"Abano was fifty four, he was an electrician, and White was twenty three."

"White-"

[What.]

"Not you. They were certain he died? Is there a cause of death?"

"Yes, the file says he died at the premises of the main warehouse by smoke inhalation." Weasel said, turning to look at Wade. "Any other ideas?"

"No way, last I saw him he ran away off the area." Wade said. "Maybe they mistook a body for his? Do you have his social security number?"

"Sure." Weasel said, turning back to the screen, opening a police database. After he opened up a police file of one Joseph Gregory White, Weasel moved so Wade could see the most recent mugshots.

Standing up to get closer to Weasel, Wade looked at the old photos. "That's him alright." He said, looking at the blurry photo of what looked like a sixteen year old, but in reality was twenty three at a time.

"What was the fake teen's position, anyway?" Wade asked.

Weasel switched to SHIELD's files and said "He was the assistant of Dr. Abraham Cornelius, who was, wait a second." Weasel searched the data, then said "Senior scientist for Weapon X."

"Right. Some innocent teen…" Wade grumbled. "Does he have living relatives? Something tells me he's not really dead."

Opening serval human records databases, Weasel made a quick search silently.

In the meantime, Wade went to grab them a couple of beers from Weasel's refrigerator.

"Thanks." Weasel said, taking a swig from his bottle.

After a half an hour of searching, Weasel finally said "Nope."

"Nope?" Wade questioned, eyebrows furrowing under his mask.

"No living relatives, but, and it's a significant one, his mother died almost two years ago. All expanses for the burial were made in cash. And, apparently she died of lung cancer, which she was battling for eighteen years. And guess what? She was a Weapon X patient until the early 00'."

Wade hummed in thoughtfully, then said "And you think Joey payed for everything."

"It's possible." Weasel said, shrugging.

"Can you open the mother's file?" Wade asked.

Opening the file, Wade checked quickly her date of birth and passing. Pointing at the date of birth, Wade said "That's two and a half weeks from now."

Nodding, Weasel said "Think someone's about to visit Mrs. White's grave?"

"It's a possibility." Wade said. "Where's she buried?"

"I don't know." Weasel said, turning to face the computer screen. "Give me a few moments." He asked as he started to search for her last resting place.

"Okey dokey." Wade said as he walked back to the couch. "I'm ordering pizza." He informed Weasel.

[Two pizzas later.]

"When will you leave for Alberta?" Weasel asked, not moving his gaze from the TV screen.

"I don't know. A week, maybe?" Wade answered, not really giving the idea much thought, his head in a different place. "Would you be able to get me some human trackers? Maybe those that I can monitor their whereabouts on my phone?" He asked. "Oh, oh! Can you combine a tracker with a bug?" He added.

{Why do you need a bug tracker? We know where bug boy is.}

[He meant a recording device.]

{Oh.}

"Spiders are arachnids…" Wade stated out loud, getting less excited, as he remembered why he's about to go on the mission.

…

[One flight to Canada later.]

Wade stepped out of the airport's main gate, getting instantly relieved, as he was no longer cramped inside a too much of a claustrophobic place, filled with people who didn't even have the decency to look away when Wade caught them staring at his face, as it was the only part of his body that was bare.

You'd think it will get easier to handle these situations, for Wade had been treated like the main oddity which ever place he goes, when he has to unmask, for more than a decade now. You'd think he wouldn't care, because it's not like he can change his body, but no matter how tough of a front he'll present, how intimidating he will look, it will hurt nonetheless.

That same facial expression of disgust; the sudden wrinkling of one's nose, the raised upper lip and scanning eyes. This look of revulsion people send him when they spot his bare face never hides how the scars makes their insides turn.

[When they cannot tear away their sight.]

{Deadpool's unmasked face is definitely a one in a life time kinda face, you can't just look away. See, it makes people think. They might think about how lucky they are, how misfortunate the ugly guy is, or they might even wonder about the circumstances that brought said disfigured entity to it's condition. Was it a house fire? Was he in an accident? Was he a soldier? Maybe he has a skin condition? The unusualness of the sight has to make them uncomfortable, but they're never to look away, never to miss such a deformed face.}

[You're awfully insightful today.]

"I know right…" Wade grumbled to himself as he adjusted his trusty mask to his face. "To Mama Mary's motel, please." He said to the taxi driver, followed by an address of the place.

{Eh.. Mama Mary, just the right kind of edible…}

"Worst pelmeni I've ever tasted." Wade said weakly, still mentally shaken by the emotionally disturbing flight.

For the past few years Peter had somehow managed to get Wade's confidence and self-image a little out of the gutter by constantly reminding Wade that he has nothing to hide and that his self-worth can't possibly be dictated by his appearance. But as soon as Wade got back to the real world, he was harshly reminded of who he truly was, how he'll never be accepted to a society that won't let him forget how beauty centered it is.

{We're not normal enough for them. They'll keep bringing us down, reminding us that as long as you don't fit the norms, you're not good enough. It's always you're too feminine, you're too fat, your scars are disgusting, they make you look weak. Why are you crying Wade? You should know better than to talk back to your father, you are a worthless piece of shit and you don't deserve anything. It's your fucking fault the woman died, you made her sick, like you make everyone around you to be, such a bad boy. Why aren't you more carful Mr. Wilson? The girls won't ever like a boy as dirty as you, stop getting into trouble and go wash your face. If you won't act like a normal student, we'll have to expel you. You're simply not good enough and you should hate yourself for it, because you can't even make the effort to hide or try to be normal. You're a disgrace and you should be ashamed of yourself Sgt. Wilson. Stop getting in the way Deadpool, no one needs you anyway.}

[They cannot all be wrong, you know.]

{I can almost smell the blood that's about to be shed, it's been a long time since we got our fix.}

"Shut up, just please shut up." Wade begged, getting out of the cab, clutching his bag to his chest, his mask soaked with tears.

[You're not a baby, stop crying like one. You make everyone around you feel uncomfortable, and that includes the readers.]

{Yeah, no one wants to hear about a piece of shit like you crying. A grown man no one cares about crying in self-pity.}

[Not like someone else's going to pity him. All he does is get in the way.]

{I miss Petey, he was the only one who was ever that nice to us. I miss his butt the most.}

[How could he not, have you seen us? We're a walking entertainment system, our self-deprecating jokes and faux confidence are bound to make us the laughable buffoon of the Marvel universe.]

"Shut up!" Wade yelled as he slammed the door shut. "I hate you, have I told you how much I fucking despise you?" He asked.

[You did mentioned it indirectly.]

"Shut up!" Deadpool yelled again, throwing his bag on the floor as he sat on the bed and started scratching his thighs violently, still wearing his gloves.

[You realize you are a complete lunatic, yeah? You're the one who keeps thinking about all the fucked up shit you went through, you're the one who keeps reliving all the sorrow and pain life threw at your ugly face.]

{A face a mother wouldn't even like.}

Wade whimpered as a result of the boxes' statements, hyperventilating as he walks to the bathroom, head spinning.

[Such a weak body, fucked up brain and marred insides.]

Wade tore his mask away from his face as he vomited his airplane dinner into the toilet, missing the bowl for the most part.

{Ewwww!}

Wade sat down beside the toilet when he was done emptying his stomach, whispering "Why are you doing this to me? I'm trying to be good so hard, I'm trying to help Spidey, but all I get is being kicked in the face…"

[See, the difference between you and Spiderman is quite simple, where he helps for the greater good, to genuinely save people, you do it for the payment, whether it's a fat paycheck or some kind of approval from the actual heroes. You're pathetic.]

"I can't take this anymore." Wade mumbled when he stood up to get his gun from his bag.

[Normal people don't have the privilege to off themselves when convenient.]

{Yea, we should feel bad about that... we keep temporarily un-aliving ourselves as if it's an actual option for normal people.}

[We'll never be no-

…

After a long night of regeneration, Wade sat up slowly from the floor he was laid on. "Fucking boxes…" He said groggily, wiping dried blood from his eyes. When Wade was certain he had to change his clothes, on account of them being soiled with dried vomit and blood, he got up to his feet to get his bag from where it skidded away when he threw it the night before.

When he was wearing a new set of civic clothes, dark blue denims, a black oversized hoodie, army boots, leather gloves, his mask, a few hidden knives and a hidden gun, Wade took his laptop out of it's case, connecting the charging wires to it and to the plug next to the bed.

While waiting for the computer to boot, he started hearing the buzz of the boxes coming alive, though they stayed silent for the most part.

Taking out his vintage Lisa Frank notebook, the one with the seal on it, Wade reread his mission's details. He looked again on his phone's maps app how to get to the cemetery where one Carol Ruth Ellen was buried.

After that, he opened up the video software so he could check up on Peter.

Peter, of course, was sleeping soundly in his bed, as it was 06:43 a.m. Looking around the floor, Clint was nowhere to be seen, probably on his morning jog, Wade thought. Freddie, Peter's new friend, was lying fast asleep on the living room's couch, her hand still inside the Doritos bag she obviously got as a snack in the middle of the night.

Seeing as nothing was going on, Wade turned off his laptop and hid it inside his bag, which went into the cheap closet the little room had.

A short walk to a main road later, Wade stopped a cab which took him to the graveyard.

"Hello Mrs. Ellen, it's a pleasure to meet you." He said to the gravestone. "Someone sure did splurge on ya, huh?" He said, touching the cool black marble. "Is your son about to visit ya?" He asked no one in particular. "Well, I guess we'll have to wait and see, huh?" He finally added as he turned around and walked away, looking for a hidden vantage point, preferably one with a comfortable place to sit on.

…

Ten days later, practically when Wade was about to give up, a short and skinny figure came to stand by the grave. The man wore a long and black leather coat with a high collar that hid his face from Wade's view, but with a few maneuvers, Wade could partially see it.

{Yay! It's him! It's the little dude who pissed himself!}

"At last… Piss Man." Wade whispered with a grin on his face, closing the laptop he was playing on behind the bushes, getting it inside his utility bag.

[It sure was a long wait.]

"So late to his momma's B-Day… tsk, tsk, tsk." Wade said, standing up and getting a closer view of the man.

Not much was said, the man mumbled a few words here and there, but was mostly quiet as he stood by the headstone. After about a half an hour, the man arranged his coat to perfectly hide his face, zipping it up all the way. When he was pleased with himself, he started walking away toward the exit.

{Piss Man is on the move.}

As the man moved away, Deadpool followed him silently. When the man exited the burial area and moved for the parking lot, Wade was intently relieved he bought an old, mostly falling apart, motorcycle from a shady kid. A quick rundown to a local motor shop in the dawn of day and Deadpool's new motorbike was fixed with the latest, most powerful motor he could find.

The man promptly got inside his, thankfully, red luxury car, and got ready to move.

Wade got onto his dark blue bike and hurriedly took a photo of the man's car and license plate, just before he put on his brand new bike helmet.

A short ride following the man to a close by diner and Wade was able to stick two of his trackers onto the red car.

…

For the following five days, Deadpool followed the dubious man all the way back to the United States of America. The man took a long road through Regina, North and South Dakota, Nebraska and Kansas.

{Oh, Regina, our beloved hometown.}

"Beloved, huh?" Wade questioned. "Talk for yourself, dude." He said bitterly, watching carefully from a distance as the short man, still wearing the leather coat, entered a tall building thorough an underground entrance.

{But we are 'yourself'!} Yellow whined.

The man drove his red car all the way to San Angelo, Texas. Where it was now parked on an underground parking lot under a tall looking high tech building.

According to the tracker Wade had put on the car, it was parked for the last two hours, causing Wade to ponder if the man's actually going to arrive home anytime soon, since checking into the car's info only led to a car renting service, Deadpool still didn't know what was the name of the person driving it or any other kind of information on him. Regardless, Wade started calling the man 'Joe' in his head.

{Don't forget Piss Man!}

Seeing as the trackers were reliable enough, Wade allowed himself to be twenty five minutes behind the man, when following him in vehicle, since the drive was lengthy and he did not want to be seen.

{Oh look-y, its Mister I'm-too-good-to-go-home-for-almost-six-days.}

Looking up from his phone, Wade could see the man walking towards his car with a lady companion.

Wade gives the couple a head start of twenty minutes, then follows the car using the tracking app.

Five hours later and Wade already narrowed the gap between them. When the car entered a fancy looking neighborhood, Wade though they might have finally arrived to Mystery Guy's house, but he was disappointed when he realized the man only dropped the lady off.

However, ten minutes later, the man actually entered a property completely, parked his car inside a roofed parking space and walked inside the unlit house, turning the lights on as he went.

Letting out a tired sigh, Wade said quietly "So this is home, huh." He lifted his helmet away from his masked face.

Taking a few photos of the house and taking note of the address, Wade sent a message to Weasel.

DP: Heyo, Jacky boy, mind looking into this address? I need all the info u can find about the dude who lives here, I'm pretty sure that's my guy.

Not getting to put away his phone, he already felt it vibrating in his hand with a reply.

WSL: Sure.

WSL: Wait, you're in New Mexico? I thought you flew to Canada?

DP: I did, apparently our guy is into long coats, red luxury cars and to gain the most ridiculous mileage.

With that, he pocketed his phone and drove away from the house.

[Well isn't it convenient how Deadpool has a safe house is El Paso, Texas.]

"Shh! don't question the plot, dude." Wade whispered, eyeing the writer from the corner of his eye, sending her threatening looks, as she keeps making him not-eat and not-see his Baby Boy, which inevitably postpones the smut. Besides, it's not like the house is anywhere near where we at, He thought as he drove to nowhere in particular.

[Use your teleportation device, Dumb-dumb.]

Halting his driving, Wade said out loud "That is the smartest thing you've ever said, Whitey!"

So, Wade hurried to a hidden spot away from citizens and, holding on to his motorcycle, he entered the house's coordinates and teleported to it.

{Home sweet home.}

[We literally haven't been here for about five years.]

Parking his bike at the back of the house, not to let any prying neighbors know that someone is inside the house.

[What neighbors? There's no one in the vicinity of a Five mile radius.]

Walking to the back door, Wade pulled out his phone in order to open his email box, where he could find the password for entering the house, as it was locked down by thick metal doors that had a locking mechanism that could only be unlocked by a fifteen digit password.

The house might look like an ordinary village house, but it had a handful of improvements, that made it the best house a merc on the budget can get. Firstly, it had reinforced concrete walls, bullet and sound proof windows, a few hundred pounds of ammunition and firearms, a bunker of a basement and a king sized fluffy bed. Considering the last point, Wade was beyond excited to enter the house and get a good night's sleep.

As Wade hadn't stepped inside the house for years, the tech and electronics were a bit old fashioned and not up to date, but it seemed like the water and electricity were still working, since Wade never stopped paying for them.

Turning the faucet off, Wade walked around the house, opening up the windows, since the house had such an awful and musty smell to it. "Good thing I covered everything with plastic the last time I've been here." He said proudly as he took the plastic tarps off, revealing mostly clean furniture.

Throwing the tarps away, Wade fell down onto the couch, falling asleep almost instantly.

Fifteen hours later and Wade started waking up. He could vaguely feel his bladder letting him know he had to get up soon, but honestly, he couldn't even get his eyes to flutter to an opening. He was on the edge of consciousness for about a half an hour, thinking about how he needs to get up, get to working on figuring out the dude he followed for six days all over the US, taking a shower and changing his clothes. However, all of those couldn't convince his brain to dissolve the sleepy state he was in and wake up, so he fell asleep again.

The next time he woke up, two hours later, he was startled awake by his bladder, screaming at him that he has to get up now, if he wishes to keep the couch he slept on dry.

A quick run down the hallway and after he figured out where the hell the toilet was, Wade emptied himself and got into the shower. Firstly, the water that rushed out were a rusted orange color, but after a few seconds they turned beautifully clear.

After the quick shower and a change of clothes, Wade picked up his phone, to find out he had three unanswered calls from Weasel.

Calling the long haired man back, he was greeted with an annoyed sounding "Wade."

Disregarding the annoyance in Weasel's voice, Wade said excitedly "Whadaya got for me?" Sitting down on his couch and grabbing his bag to get a pen and something to write on, preferably his Lisa Frank notebook.

Weasel started "So this Joe dude, definitely formerly known as 'Joseph White', since he looks like tha same person, he goes by Joseph Gelmen now, men as in plural, which is like super weird, if you ask me.."

"Good, give me more info." Wade said as he wrote down in bold letters JOSEPHGELMEN?

"He works at a place called WITZ, which is some kind of an acronym of the founders from what I can tell… Anyway, the place is a rehab center that's funded by the US government through the army. They rehabilitate mostly disabled veterans, amputees, paralyzed veterans and alike.

The center is located basically in the middle of nowhere, though, so that's kind of suspicious." Weasel ended his statement.

"Interesting…" Wade said, writing everything down. "What's Joey's job title?"

"From what I concluded from hacking their systems, which wasn't hard at all to be honest, but there wasn't much there, so it maybe that everything I found is complete bull crap and-"

"Weas', his position." Wade said, underlining the man's name repeatedly.

{You said position, hehe.}

Clearing his throat, Weasel said "Yes, so it says he gets paid as a researcher's assistant, which to be honest sounds like total BS, since he gets the largest paycheck by far."

"I see. How long does he work there?" Wade asked.

"From what I can tell, from the start. As soon as that WITZ place came to, eight years ago, he was working there. Different job description, though, he was a junior integration physician at the time, whatever that means." Weasel answered.

Thinking out loud, Wade said "That sounds like a lowering in rank."

"Which won't make sense, it's like someone doesn't want people to know he's the head honcho, or something." Weasel concluded.

Noting the unusual development in his notebook, Wade asked "And what did he do beforehand? Before that place?"

After a few seconds of weasel obviously clicking through things in his computer, he said "I could find some old records saying that he used to volunteer for the Red Cross for a couple of years, but that's it, it's like he never existed before ten years ago." He ended his sentence with what sounded like a grin on his face.

"Which makes sense, if he's my guy." Wade smirked.

Weasel agreed, saying "Exactly. And I don't think he made such a good job playing dead by himself nor for admirable reasons."

"That, I'll be finding out soon enough." Wade said, asking "Do you have anything else for me?"

Answering, Weasel said "Nothing else."

Wade got up to connect his laptop to an outlet, ending the call with "Ok. Thanks for the info, I'll talk to you as things develop, I might need you to help me out later."

"Sure thing." Weasel said.

Wade was about to finish the call, when he finally said to Weasel "Message me the address."

Weasel answered with a "Bye." Messaging the address to Wade before the latter got to lower his phone from his ear.

Next thing Wade did after reading the message was to retrieve his computer while opening the tracking app for Joseph's car in his phone. Seeing as the car was parked at a city called Las Cruces, the same city WITZ is located, wade made an educated guess and assumed his man was at work. The car has been parked there for the past five hours.

After a short drive, Wade pulled over behind a big truck, looking at a fenced area that looked vaguely like an army base.

"Now how will we get inside of there?" Deadpool said out loud. "What is this place, anyway?"

[It looks like an army base, but there are regular guards standing at the entrance, not soldiers.]

{I smell something weird goin' on…}

[You cannot small a thing, as you are a thought box.]

{It's like your purpose in life is to get me down.}

"I guess I can just teleport there." Wade said, eyeing his trusted teleporter fastened to his buckle.

Not long after, Wade teleported himself a few dozen meters away from the guarding station, leaving his motorcycle hidden near the entry.

They sure didn't stinge on the power supply, he thought to himself, eyeing the large fuel power station. Not what does this thing power?