[That question, at least, is one that's easier to answer. Wade adjusts his posture to something a little more relaxed, finally opening his softened container of ice cream.]

A whole lot, really. Spite. Loneliness. Desperation. The exhaustion brought on by living too long. Basically take all the issues I have, dial 'em up to eleven, toss in a nonexistent moral compass... mix and serve scalding.

He-- the real other me, I mean-- killed pretty much everyone in his own universe. I'm talkin' men, women, children... even started takin' out people from other universes, too. Including other versions of me-- the ones he didn't recruit, anyway. Some of 'em were even my teammates, which made it even more personal.

[He scowls.] Hit the hardest when they killed the dog. I liked that dog.