Selling Devil Fruits in the Marvel Universe

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THANK YOU FOR 30 POWERSTONES, HERE'S AN EXTRA CHAPTER 

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"How about this? Tell me what's up with your eyes, and I'll tell you who hired me. Deal?" Deadpool suggested with a tone that, despite seeming sincere, was clearly insincere to anyone paying attention.

Daredevil, being no fool, didn't bother to respond. He had no time for this nonsense. He knew better than to trust anything coming from someone as unpredictable as Deadpool. Though Daredevil could usually gauge someone's honesty by their heartbeat, he knew it wouldn't work on someone as professionally deceitful or inherently shameless as Deadpool. 

And this guy? He was definitely both.

"No need to worry. I'll make sure you tell me everything," Daredevil said coldly before launching himself at Deadpool with a flying kick.

"Such a cold guy! I'm trying to bond here!" Deadpool retorted, pushing off the wall and leaping into action.

*Clang!* 

The metallic sound of swords being drawn filled the air as Deadpool unsheathed his twin katanas, spinning them in a flourish.

"Let's dance, baby! And by dance, I mean let's try to kill each other!"

Daredevil, undeterred, charged forward. But despite his formidable hand-to-hand combat skills, he found himself outmatched by Deadpool, who was no ordinary foe. Deadpool's skills were on another level—he was fast enough to slice through bullets, a feat far beyond anything Daredevil could counter.

Deadpool's skill with swords gave him a distinct advantage. Without his armor or weapons, Daredevil fought barehanded, placing him at a significant disadvantage.

*Slice!*

In no time, Deadpool's sword slashed across Daredevil's body, leaving a deep wound. It was only the beginning.

*Slice, slice, slice!*

The sound of flesh tearing echoed as Deadpool continued his assault, his swords leaving a network of deep gashes across Daredevil's body. Soon, Daredevil was staggering, weakened by his injuries and blood loss. Yet, he refused to stay down; each time he was knocked down, he would rise again, a testament to his indomitable will.

"I like guys who are tough," Deadpool quipped as he observed Daredevil's resilience. "Three years ago, I had a dog. No, I'm not comparing you to a dog—I actually had a dog. Every time I ate a burger or a hot dog, it would try to steal it. No matter how many times I smacked it, it never learned. It was tough, but I eventually came to like the dog. But I still had to kill it in the end."

He continued his rambling monologue as he executed a graceful flip, closing in for the final blow.

*Slash!*

Daredevil's movements halted as Deadpool's sword sliced clean through his throat.

*Thud!*

Daredevil collapsed to the ground, the life extinguished from the vigilante who had once struck fear into the hearts of Hell's Kitchen's criminals. His death marked the end of an era, and his battle and sacrifice were ultimately in vain.

Deadpool strolled over to Daredevil's lifeless body and casually removed the mask, revealing the sightless eyes behind it.

"Shit, he really was blind," Deadpool muttered, taken aback by the revelation. A blind man had given him that much trouble. Unreal.

"Impressive work, Mr. Wilson! Truly a sight to behold!" A voice dripping with admiration broke the silence as Wesley, accompanied by a group of men, emerged from the shadows.

Wesley couldn't contain his excitement. Finally, the scourge of Hell's Kitchen, the bane of his boss's existence, was gone. Deadpool had succeeded, whereas many had failed.

"If you really want to flatter me, maybe you could show it with some cold hard cash? How about bumping up my commission by ten grand?" Deadpool responded with a smirk.

"Mr. Wilson, I have a better proposition. Why not work for my boss directly? He values talent above all else. Money will never be an issue," Wesley proposed, calculating the potential benefits.

"No thanks. What if someone hires me to kill your boss? Should I just not do it?" Deadpool replied seriously.

Wesley, knowing Deadpool's quirks, wasn't offended. Instead, he signaled one of his men, who stepped forward carrying a briefcase. He opened it in front of Deadpool, revealing stacks of cash inside.

"Here's your one million dollars, Mr. Wilson. Every penny," Wesley said, gesturing toward the money.

*Click!*

Deadpool swiftly snapped the briefcase shut, a satisfied grin spreading across his face. "Nice! Now I can afford another Devil Fruit."

He turned his gaze to Wesley, eyeing him with a peculiar intensity that made Wesley uncomfortable.

"What are you looking at me like that for, Mr. Wilson?" Wesley asked, feeling a sudden chill. Was Deadpool sizing him up for some twisted reason?

"Aren't you curious about what a Devil Fruit is? Don't you want to ask? You're not following the script here!" Deadpool snapped, frustrated by Wesley's lack of curiosity.

"Alright, Mr. Wilson, what's a Devil Fruit?" Wesley asked, humoring Deadpool.

"Damn, I'm pushing this way too hard. Shopkeeper, you owe me big time!" Deadpool muttered under his breath before continuing. "A Devil Fruit is a mystical fruit that grants extraordinary powers—just like magic. This face? The Devil Fruit healed it."

"Amazing stuff," Wesley replied nonchalantly, not believing a word of it. He wasn't about to fall for such a tall tale. A fruit that heals disfigurement? What a joke!

"Exactly. If your boss had one, he wouldn't need to hire me—he could take down Daredevil himself. So, make sure to tell him about it. Otherwise, it's your loss!"

With that, Deadpool hoisted the briefcase and disappeared into the night.

Wesley walked over to Daredevil's body, removing the mask entirely. His eyes widened in shock.

"It's him?"

He had not expected to see the familiar face of the blind lawyer, Matt Murdock.

Wesley and his boss, Wilson Fisk, had encountered Murdock before. However, they had never suspected that this seemingly insignificant blind man was the vigilante who had been causing them so much trouble.

As for the nonsense Deadpool spouted about Devil Fruits, Wesley had already dismissed it from his mind. He had no time for such fairy tales.