Selling Devil Fruits in the Marvel Universe

Can't get enough? Why not read ahead?

Visit my Patreon or Ko‑fi page for early access to 10+ chapters for just $5!

Your support means the world to me. Check it out and enjoy the story even more!

patreon.com/Isopuff

https://ko-fi.com/isopuff

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

"Mr. Wilson, has your face really recovered?" Wesley asked in surprise, his eyes widening the moment he saw Deadpool's face.

Wesley had encountered Deadpool two months prior when Deadpool's face was a grotesque, scarred mess that no one could bear to look at. Yet, now, in just two months, it was completely healed. The transformation was nothing short of miraculous.

Wesley couldn't fathom how such extensive damage could have been repaired. Could modern medicine really achieve such miracles?

Of course, Wesley had no way of knowing that Deadpool's face had healed in just a single day, not over two months.

"HAHAHA, that expression! No matter how many times I see it, it never fails to amuse me! I knew you'd ask me to remove my mask, and I was waiting for this moment."

"Surprised, aren't you?" Deadpool lounged back in his chair, crossing his legs and pointing at Wesley with a look of amusement.

Wesley remained silent, but internally, he swore that if he weren't such a refined person, he'd have shot Deadpool on the spot. The guy was incredibly infuriating.

"Congratulations, Mr. Wilson. Now, shall we discuss business?" Wesley continued in his usually calm tone, not rising to Deadpool's taunts.

"Wait, aren't you curious how I did it? Aren't you curious where I got my face fixed? You're not following the script!" Deadpool interrupted, sounding genuinely disappointed.

He had planned to use this opportunity to promote the shop where he got the treatment. It was not that Wesley himself wasn't a big deal, but the person he represented was a major player, a wealthy one at that.

"Mr. Wilson, may I be frank? It's not my business, and I don't care. Also, while I'd be happy to chat privately about personal matters, right now, we're here to talk business."

Wesley's professionalism was unshakable.

"OK, let's get to business then." Deadpool shrugged. After all, he didn't want to annoy his benefactor.

"Flat fee, one million dollars!" Deadpool stated firmly.

"Mr. Wilson, that's quite a steep price," Wesley remarked.

"But we both know it's fair, right? The damage Daredevil has caused your boss far exceeds that amount."

"You're right, Mr. Wilson. As I said, price is never an issue. Bring us Daredevil's head, and one million dollars is yours."

One million dollars was a hefty sum, but to someone like Kingpin, it was a drop in the ocean. Wesley could easily approve the payment himself.

"Additionally, Mr. Wilson, if you need, we can help lure Daredevil out," Wesley offered.

Daredevil was notorious for his interference, and drawing him out would be easy enough.

"It seems you really want Daredevil dead. He must have really pissed you off," Deadpool observed with genuine curiosity. "By the way, you're not charging extra for that, right?"

"No extra charge, Mr. Wilson."

"Your service is excellent. In that case, I won't say no to saving a bit on expenses," Deadpool agreed without hesitation. Intelligence gathering could be costly, after all.

"Then, Mr. Wilson, I suggest you stay in Hell's Kitchen tonight. I might contact you at any time," Wesley advised confidently. They had tangled with Daredevil many times—more accurately, Daredevil had thwarted their operations countless times. They knew his behavior patterns well.

Sometimes, your greatest enemy understands you the best. That saying seemed fitting here.

"No problem. Your boss must own some upscale hotels, right? So, can you cover my stay?" Deadpool, shameless as ever, asked.

"Simon," Wesley casually instructed one of his subordinates.

The man understood immediately and stepped forward, gesturing to Deadpool. "Mr. Wilson, please follow me."

With that, Deadpool was led away, disappearing into the night. Meanwhile, Wesley pulled out his phone and began making calls, one after another.

Hell's Kitchen, already volatile, began to descend into chaos.

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

"Help! Help! Somebody, please help me!"

"Stop, please stop hitting me!"

"No, don't kill me! I can pay you!"

"You dare steal from us? Tired of living, huh? Kill them!"

On the rooftop of a building in Hell's Kitchen, a man wearing a black mask and a tight suit crouched in the highest spot, observing the chaos below.

But his expression wasn't calm. In fact, he seemed somewhat agitated.

It was an unusually chaotic night!

Hell's Kitchen had been improving under his vigilant watch. Crime had decreased, and the once rampant criminals were now more restrained, many too afraid to act.

But tonight, it was as if the city had regressed overnight.

Cries of fear and the sounds of violence echoed from all directions!

It seemed his previous efforts hadn't been enough.

Daredevil's expression darkened, his eyes gleaming with a fierce determination. Like a nimble monkey, he darted across the rooftops, his figure quickly blending into the night.

One by one, criminals were taken down by Daredevil.

But suddenly, Daredevil came to an abrupt halt, quickly turning to face a certain direction. His enhanced hearing had detected someone following him for two blocks.

"You noticed me already? Wow, you're really something!" a voice called out.

A man in a red suit with twin swords strapped to his back leaped down from a nearby wall. It was Deadpool.

Deadpool was genuinely impressed. He thought he'd been stealthy, but Daredevil had noticed him. 

No, not noticed. Deadpool clearly saw the man was blindfolded. No "sight" at all.

How could a blindfolded person be so agile and perceptive? Deadpool was genuinely curious about how Daredevil did it.

"You're not from Hell's Kitchen. Who are you?" Daredevil asked in a low, calm voice, his sightless gaze fixed on Deadpool.

"Allow me to introduce myself. I'm a highly skilled mercenary who never fails. You can call me Deadpool. And yes, I'm here to kill you," Deadpool replied casually, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed.

"By the way, why are you blindfolded? Are you actually blind? You don't act like it."

"Who sent you? Madame Gao or Wilson Fisk?" Daredevil ignored Deadpool's questions and focused on the threat at hand.