Robert had completed two achievement tasks already—both difficult, but at least theoretically doable.
But this new one?
It was a whole different level of impossible.
The objective was to defeat Tony Stark—Iron Man—using a self-made high-tech battle suit. Just imagining it gave Robert a headache. There was no way he could complete that any time soon. Thankfully, achievement tasks weren't time-sensitive or mandatory. He had time to figure it out—or at least procrastinate until he came up with a miracle.
Right now, though, he had a more pressing issue:
He was broke.
After blowing most of his money on weapons, ammunition, and explosives for the Gina encounter, Robert's bank account was practically empty. He barely had enough for rent and food, let alone the kind of advanced tech he'd need to even think about facing Iron Man.
He turned to Weasel at the bar. "Any high-paying gigs lately? I need cash. Fast."
He wasn't joking.
With his current skill set—especially the advanced sharpshooting and arc-bullet tricks—Robert was more than qualified for high-risk missions. His precision sniping had already proven itself in their last skirmish. No one even saw where he was shooting from.
Weasel nodded, already expecting the question. Now that he had a better sense of Robert's combat prowess, he didn't hesitate to offer serious jobs. "There are some good-paying ones, but they're not local. There's one in Mexico—targeting a cartel compound. That's a five-million-dollar job. Location's in Harry's territory, down in Colorado."
Robert shook his head. "Too far. I need something close—preferably in New York."
Weasel tapped his fingers on the counter, thinking. "There are a few local jobs. But the highest bounty in New York... is still your own."
Robert raised an eyebrow. "Wait—what? My bounty dropped?"
"Yep. Good news for you: it's down to four million now."
"Did someone grow a conscience?"
Weasel scoffed. "Hardly. Those guys sold their souls years ago. My guess? Your 'partner' got caught."
Robert's expression darkened. "You mean the Punisher?"
"Yep. Poor bastard. You mess with gangsters, you usually end up chopped into little pieces. If they got him, there's a chance he gave up your info. And if you were dumb enough to give him your actual address, well... I'd start packing now and crash at Wade's."
Weasel looked genuinely worried. He didn't want his rental property getting blown up by vengeful gangsters.
"Who's moving in with me?" came a familiar voice.
Wade, still wearing his red mask, casually slid into the booth next to Robert.
"I swear, if anyone messes with my happy life with Vanessa, they'll wish the IRS got to them first."
Weasel grinned. "Look who it is! America's favorite boyfriend, Wade Wilson. I thought you and Vanessa were gonna be inseparable forever."
Robert was just as surprised. Since Wade had reunited with Vanessa, he'd practically vanished from sight. The guy had been spending every waking moment with her.
"Trust me, I planned to," Wade admitted. "But there's one thing scarier than the IRS showing up."
"What's that?" Weasel asked.
"I'm broke."
He slumped across the table like a defeated man.
"You too?" Robert said with a chuckle.
"Absolutely! I was so focused on hunting down Francis, I didn't take any jobs. Now Vanessa and I are burning through cash like it's napkins. I need work—and fast."
"Preferably jobs in New York?" Robert asked.
"Exactly. Something local, so I can spend the day working and still make it home for dinner."
Robert smirked, a plan forming. "Wade, I've got a gig that pays several million."
Wade sat up instantly. "Now you've got my attention. What's the job?"
"Real simple. Catch someone. Deliver him to the gang. Walk away with millions."
Wade narrowed his eyes. "That's it? No tricks?"
"No tricks. The target is in New York. No travel. You already know him."
"Wait... I know the guy?"
"Yep."
"Who?"
"Me."
Robert grinned, chugging his soda and flashing a thumbs-up.
"You arrest me. We split the payout fifty-fifty. Don't worry—I won't fight back."
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