Wade spun around with an unnecessarily theatrical flourish, his swords sheathing with a satisfying snikt sound. He pointed both index fingers at the camera like some cheesy game show host. "Alright, folks," he said, as though narrating his own reality TV show. "Francis is down for the count! That's one B-list bad guy kicked off this season of America's Got Villains. Now, where's my next overly complicated fight scene? Let's see… hot Spanish assassin? Check. Birdman who shops at 'Forever 21: Mythological Edition'? Double check. Oooh, and a chick with serious CrossFit energy? Hell yes. Let's do this."
He jogged toward the sound of clashing metal and grunts—because where there are grunts, there's drama. Rounding a corner, Wade stopped in his tracks and surveyed the chaos. Sofia, her long dark hair a whirlwind of fury, was locked in a knife fight with Angel Dust (aka Christine). Their blades collided in a series of sparks, Sofia's movements as fluid as water, while Christine's were raw, brutal, and entirely unsubtle. Meanwhile, Warren—golden, glorious, and looking like he just stepped off a Christian rock album cover—was dive-bombing Christine from above, his talons slashing through the air like some majestic, pissed-off eagle.
Wade tilted his head, taking it all in. "Holy Fast & Furious 7, this is like watching a sexy telenovela where everyone skipped their therapy appointments." He pulled out his guns and grinned. "Time to make things worse!"
Sofia ducked under one of Christine's haymaker punches, the blade in her hand flashing as it cut a shallow slice along Christine's arm. "You're good," Sofia said, her voice dripping with that Penélope Cruz-style confidence that could make even a death threat sound sexy. "But you're not that good."
Christine smirked, flexing her arm like the small wound barely phased her. "I love it when they get cocky," she said, rolling her neck until it cracked ominously. "Makes it even sweeter when I break them."
From above, Warren swooped down with his wings folded tightly, aiming for Christine's exposed flank. "Stay focused!" he called out, his voice edged with frustration. He slashed at her with his talons, forcing her to duck and grab a steel pipe from the ground. She swung it at him with a growl. "Stay out of this, Bird Boy!"
Wade let out a low whistle. "Ohhhh, burn. She called you 'Bird Boy.' That's gonna sting for at least three therapy sessions. Don't worry, Warren, you're still the most majestic chicken I've ever seen."
"Deadpool!" Sofia shouted, barely dodging a vicious swing from Christine's pipe. "If you're going to help, stop talking and do something!"
"Okay, okay, fine," Wade said, pulling out his guns and aiming at Christine. He fired, but she was already moving, her unnatural speed making her a blur. The bullets ricocheted off the walls, one of them nearly hitting Warren mid-dive. "Wow, she's fast," Wade mused, clearly impressed. "Like, 'Usain Bolt chugging pre-workout' fast. What are you on, Christine? Don't tell me it's keto. I swear if it's keto—"
Christine roared and lunged at him, swinging her pipe with enough force to dent a tank. Wade ducked and rolled, coming up behind her. "Ooh, that's cute," he said, his voice oozing sarcasm. "You think you're scary. But you don't even crack the top ten of my nightmares. Number one? Ryan Reynolds in Green Lantern. That suit still haunts me."
Before Christine could respond with more violence, a familiar gruff voice cut through the chaos. "Wade!" Logan appeared, claws out, his trademark scowl firmly in place. He looked like he'd been pulled straight out of a Men's Health cover shoot. "Quit screwing around and focus."
Wade's eyes lit up behind his mask. "Logan!" He threw his arms wide as if expecting a hug. "The man, the myth, the Wolverine! You know, you're even dreamier in person. Like a feral lumberjack with a gym membership."
Logan ignored him and charged straight at Christine with all the subtlety of a wrecking ball. His claws sliced through the air, forcing her back toward the wall. Wade leaned casually against a crate, watching with amusement. "Ladies and gentlemen," he said to the imaginary audience, "Hugh Jackman at his finest. And just look at those quads! This man does not skip leg day."
Christine, now cornered, let out a low growl. "You think you've got me trapped?" she spat, her eyes darting between Logan, Sofia, and Warren. "I'm just getting started."
"No, sweetie," Sofia said, stepping forward, her knife gleaming like it belonged in an assassin's Pinterest board. "We're just ending this."
Christine smirked and lunged at Sofia, her movements a blur. But before she could close the distance, Wade slid in from nowhere, baseball-style, and shot her in the leg. "Boom! Sniped! And no, I didn't use aim assist. Pure skill, baby."
Christine screamed, falling to one knee. She swung wildly with her pipe, but Wade danced around her like a drunk ballerina. "Someone's cranky. Did you skip breakfast? Or are you just mad that I look better in red?"
Logan, clearly done with the theatrics, slammed Christine into the wall with enough force to make the whole room shudder. His claws were inches from her throat. "You're done," he growled, his voice like gravel and testosterone had a love child.
Christine glared up at him, panting heavily. "Do it," she hissed. "Finish it."
"Not yet," Sofia interjected, her voice calm but dangerous. She stepped closer, her knife poised like an artist with a brush. "She might still have information."
Wade threw up his hands dramatically. "Oh, come on! We already did the villain monologue thing with Francis. What's next? A flashback? Can we just kill her and call it a day? I've got tacos waiting."
"Wade," Logan snapped, his voice filled with barely-contained annoyance. "Shut. Up."
Wade sighed, putting his guns away. "Fine. But just so you know, I'm missing Bachelor in Paradise for this. I hope you're happy."
As Sofia and Logan restrained Christine, Warren landed gracefully beside Wade, his wings folding neatly. "Thanks for finally showing up," he said, his tone dripping with sarcasm.
"Hey," Wade replied, clapping a hand on Warren's shoulder. "I was busy saving Vanessa, my actual girlfriend. But don't worry, I'm here now to save your feathery butt, too."
Warren rolled his eyes. "I didn't need saving."
"Sure you didn't, Bird Boy," Wade said, grinning beneath his mask. "But if you did, you'd owe me big time. Like, we're talking a steak dinner. No salad. Maybe some fries."
Sofia turned her piercing gaze to Wade. "Wade, focus."
Wade twirled his guns with exaggerated flair. "Right, right. So, what's the plan? Torture her? Interrogate her? Or skip straight to the part where I make a wildly inappropriate joke?"
Logan's claws retracted as he sighed, looking more tired than usual. "Let's just get this over with."
Wade smirked. "Now that's my kind of plan, Wolverine."
—
The safehouse was a cliché pulled straight out of an 80s spy flick—an old, crumbling building with paint peeling off the walls and a flickering bulb above the door. It screamed, "Shady deals and bad decisions happen here!" Wade would've felt right at home if it weren't for the complete lack of minibar or stripper poles.
Logan led the way, his claws retracted but his bad mood fully deployed. He looked like he wanted to kill someone just for making eye contact, which Wade respected.
Speaking of Wade, he was behind Logan, humming Livin' La Vida Loca with the kind of enthusiasm that made you want to punch him. Repeatedly. Sofia, meanwhile, followed behind them, idly wiping blood off one of her blades with a handkerchief that probably cost more than Wade's entire suit. And Warren brought up the rear, his golden wings tucked tightly against his back, giving off an angelic vibe that was deeply at odds with his resting asshole face.
"Can I just say," Wade began, his voice cutting through the silence like a knife through cheap fabric, "this safehouse looks like the perfect spot for a low-budget porn shoot. All we're missing is a cheesy soundtrack and a guy named 'Rod Hardcastle.'"
Logan didn't bother to respond, because Logan was too busy doing what Logan does best—glowering. Wade, being Wade, took this as encouragement to keep going.
"Also, why is it always a flickering lightbulb? Can we not afford proper lighting? This is why villains don't take us seriously. Presentation matters, people!" He gestured wildly at the door, nearly hitting Sofia in the process.
"Do that again, Wade," Sofia said, her voice smooth and laced with danger, "and I'll make you sing soprano."
"Ooh, feisty," Wade shot back, grinning under his mask. "You're like a sexy little murder piñata. I'd make a joke about candy spilling out of you, but I'm trying to be classy. For now."
"Wade," Logan growled, his voice like gravel and rage, "shut the hell up."
"Daddy's grumpy," Wade quipped, pretending to zip his mouth shut before immediately unzipping it again. "Guess someone missed his nightly cuddle with his teddy bear. What's its name again? Mr. Snikt-Snikt?"
Logan stopped walking just long enough to glare at Wade over his shoulder. It was the kind of glare that could peel paint off a wall—or, in Wade's case, make him consider shutting up for a full three seconds.
Sofia smirked, spinning her blade between her fingers like a lazy predator. "Logan, if you're going to kill him, can you wait until we're inside? Bloodstains are such a pain to clean off concrete."
"Not helping," Wade muttered, though his tone was more amused than annoyed.
They reached the door, and Logan knocked three times in a rhythm that screamed secret club handshake. After a moment, the door creaked open to reveal Alvarez, who looked like he'd just stepped off the cover of Latin Heartthrob Monthly. His tactical gear was perfectly fitted, his hair somehow defying gravity in a way that was equal parts unfair and impressive.
"Alvarez!" Wade exclaimed, throwing his arms wide. "My favorite swarthy man of mystery! How's my Vanessa? Did you keep her safe? Did you tell her I was amazing? Please tell me you told her I was amazing. I need this."
Alvarez didn't even blink. "She's fine. Upstairs." His accent rolled off his tongue like honey over a blade, and Wade visibly swooned.
"Ugh, how are you even real?" Wade muttered, dramatically clutching his chest. "If I wasn't so madly in love with Vanessa, I'd totally try to climb you like a jungle gym."
Alvarez just gave him a deadpan look before stepping aside to let them in.
As Wade darted up the stairs with all the subtlety of a caffeinated ferret, Logan exchanged a glance with Alvarez. "She really okay?"
"She's fine," Alvarez replied, his tone all business. "Shaken, but fine. She kept asking about Wade."
Logan snorted. "Figures."
"What about Christine?" Alvarez asked, his gaze sharp.
"She's secured," Sofia said, her voice a perfect mix of sultry and dangerous. "For now."
"Did she say anything useful?"
"She'll talk," Logan growled, lighting a cigar he absolutely wasn't supposed to have. "One way or another."
Warren, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed, muttered, "Assuming Wade didn't scare her into a coma first."
"Hey!" Wade's voice echoed down the stairs. "I heard that, Chicken Wings! And for the record, I'm the heart of this team. The emotional glue, if you will!"
Sofia smirked, exchanging a glance with Logan. "He's not wrong," she said, her tone dripping with sarcasm.
Alvarez sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose. "How do you work with him?"
"Alcohol," Logan replied, taking a long drag from his cigar. "Lots of alcohol."
—
Vanessa was sitting on the edge of a couch that looked like it had seen better days—probably sometime in the early 90s. She looked up as Wade burst into the room, her expression shifting from relief to exasperation in record time.
"Wade," she said, crossing her arms. "You're late."
"I know, I know," Wade said, holding up his hands. "But in my defense, I was busy saving the world. And by 'world,' I mean you. Which, let's be honest, is way more important."
Vanessa rolled her eyes, but her lips twitched like she was fighting a smile. "You're an idiot."
"An idiot who loves you," Wade said, dropping to one knee with dramatic flair. "Now, how about a kiss for your knight in slightly bloodied armor?"
Vanessa sighed, leaning forward to kiss him on the mask. "You're lucky I missed you."
"Lucky?" Wade repeated, pulling her into a hug. "Vanessa, I'm the luckiest guy in the world. And not just because I didn't die tonight. Though that is a close second."
—
Logan leaned against the wall, ignoring the no-smoking sign glaring at him. Sofia arched a brow at him, her arms crossed.
"What?" Logan said, his tone daring her to comment.
"You're impossible," she said, shaking her head.
"And you're annoying," Logan shot back, though his tone lacked any real heat.
Warren sighed, his wings ruffling. "Can we focus? If Christine's backup shows up, this safehouse won't be so safe anymore."
Logan took another drag from his cigar, blowing the smoke out in a slow, deliberate exhale. "Let 'em come."
Sofia smirked, leaning casually against the table. "Now that's the Logan I like."
—
The room was dim, but Deadpool didn't seem to care. He collapsed onto the couch next to Vanessa like it was a five-star mattress, kicking his boots up onto the coffee table with the casual grace of a man who knew the art of chilling to its finest. His mask was still on, of course, because showing his face in public is a recipe for both trauma and insurance fraud.
Vanessa's eyes flicked over him, her light blue skin almost glowing under the faint light. Her hair—still shockingly white but shorter now—framed her face like some cool, mutant goddess. She was dressed in her usual black outfit, looking ready to either take names or make out. Probably both.
"Nice to see you're still alive," she said, her arms crossed as she leaned against the doorframe. "Though, judging by the smell, I'm not sure I want to sit too close. Seriously, Wade, did you bathe in expired nacho cheese again?"
Wade didn't even flinch. He leaned back on the couch like he owned the place, letting his body splay out dramatically. "Oh, come on, Vanessa," he said, his voice dripping with faux sincerity. "You know you missed me. That Eau de Chimichanga cologne I wear is irresistible. Notes of regret, despair, and just a hint of oh god, why didn't I die? It's intoxicating."
Vanessa rolled her eyes, clearly unfazed. "Regret's right. Though it's less regret and more… pity." She waved a hand toward his mask. "Still hiding the goods under there, huh? Can't blame you, though. I mean, I've seen moldy pizza crusts with better complexions."
Wade clutched his chest dramatically, his hand nearly fluttering off his torso like a Victorian lady. "Oh, Vanessa, you wound me. You really do. Here I am, fresh out of the freezer after being a human popsicle for way too long, and this is how you greet me? Body-shaming? And here I thought we had something special!"
Vanessa raised an eyebrow, looking unimpressed. "I'm not body-shaming. I'm just reality-checking. There's a difference." She gestured toward him with a sly grin. "Besides, at least I pull off the whole 'mutant makeover' thing. You, on the other hand, look like an avocado had a drunken fling with a fire hydrant."
Deadpool gasped, clutching his chest like she had just told him his entire family was dead. "Ruthless! Ruthless! You're just jealous because I'm the hotter one now, aren't you? Blue skin? White hair? You're one bad day away from cosplaying as a Smurf or, better yet, a budget Elsa. Try not to freeze the place down, Elsa. Not all of us can afford your ice-castles."
Vanessa snickered. "Oh, please. If I'm Elsa, you're Olaf after spending an afternoon in a woodchipper. Let it go, Wade. Let. It. Go."
"Low blow," Deadpool muttered, shaking his head dramatically. "But fine, I'll give you that one. You do rock the 'icy goddess' look. Meanwhile, I'm stuck looking like Freddy Krueger's awkward cousin who peaked in middle school, before he discovered deep-fried foods."
For a second, Vanessa's smirk faltered, and there was a glimmer of something softer in her eyes. The tension in the room shifted.
"Yeah, well, we've both been through the wringer, haven't we?" she said quietly, her gaze now sharp as ice.
Wade leaned forward, suddenly all business. His mask couldn't hide the concern in his voice. "Yeah… about that. You okay? I mean, aside from the whole mutant makeover, and the fact that you're basically a walking 'Frostbite Barbie' now. Francis and Christine didn't—" He trailed off, his voice dropping. "You know… what they tried to do, right?"
Vanessa's eyes hardened as she crossed her legs, her posture suddenly radiating the sharpness of a blade. "Didn't what? Hurt me? Break me?" She scoffed bitterly, leaning back and exhaling slowly. "Wade, let's not pretend I was some delicate flower before this. I was a prostitute, remember? Your words, not mine. 'Lady of the night,' I think you called it. Very poetic, by the way."
Deadpool winced but didn't flinch. "Right, yeah… totally meant that as a compliment. Classy, even."
Vanessa waved him off with a grin that was more predatory than anything else. "Relax. My point is, I've been through worse before I even met you." Her eyes sparkled with dark amusement. "Francis and Christine? They're amateurs. Francis couldn't even last long enough to be a real threat." She smirked, her lips curling. "Two-pump chump with a micropenis."
Deadpool's jaw dropped, his eyes widening behind his mask. "Wait, hold on. Micropenis? No. No, no, no. Tell me you're joking, because if that's true, I'm never letting him live that down. Ever. I'll get a tattoo. 'Francis Freeman: Micropenis Extraordinaire,' right across my chest. I'll make sure it's in Comic Sans for the full effect."
Vanessa chuckled darkly, her gaze sharp and cruel. "I wish I were joking. And Christine? She's just a sadist with a power complex." She sat up, her tone now cold and cutting. "They drugged me. Tried to break me." Her eyes locked onto his with an intensity that could have frozen fire. "But they didn't. They couldn't."
Wade was silent for a moment, and then, as though snapping back to reality, he broke into applause. "Ladies and gentlemen, my girlfriend, the badass queen of vengeance." He stood up on the couch and did an exaggerated bow. "And people wonder why I'm so whipped."
Vanessa snorted. "Whipped? Please. You're just happy I didn't dump your ass after seeing what's under that mask."
Wade leaned in toward her, his voice dropping to something more playful but still genuine. "Oh, come on, V. You know you love my rugged charm. Admit it. You can't resist me, even if I do look like a melted action figure that went a few rounds with a blender."
Vanessa leaned closer too, her eyes glinting mischievously. "You're lucky I have a thing for broken toys."
Wade tilted his head, pretending to be deep in thought. "Broken toys, huh? Does that mean we're starting a collection? Because if so, I call dibs on the Buzz Lightyear with the missing arm. He's got spirit."
Vanessa's eyes rolled, but the laughter in her voice was unmistakable. "You're impossible."
Wade leaned back, his voice softening. "And you're perfect. Blue skin, white hair, sass levels over 9000—you're still the most gorgeous thing I've ever seen."
Vanessa's expression softened for just a moment, and in that second, the walls they both kept up felt a little less solid. "Thanks, Wade. For… coming back. For still being you."
Wade reached over, gently taking her hand in his. "Always, V. No matter how ugly things get, I'm still me. And I've got your back. Always."
Vanessa squeezed his hand, the faintest smile curling her lips. "Good. Because if you ever leave me again, I'll kill you myself."
Wade grinned beneath his mask. "Hot."
—
Wade lounged on the couch like an over-caffeinated sloth, his mask slightly askew, his posture both too lazy and way too smug. There was a pile of half-eaten chimichangas on the coffee table, the unmistakable smell of burnt flesh (which, let's face it, was probably his own) filling the room. He was a hot mess, both literally and figuratively. And yet, in the middle of all this chaos, there was Vanessa. The vision of sheer badassery. Even with the whole blue-skin thing, she was still giving off major "I could kick your ass and look hot doing it" energy.
"So, what's the deal with you? Ice powers?" Wade asked, feigning curiosity as he leaned forward, trying his best to look like he hadn't been snacking on chimichangas all afternoon. "I'm guessing you're like, a mutant snow machine. You gonna freeze my margarita glass next, or what?"
Vanessa snorted, her ice-blue eyes gleaming with that mischievous gleam that could only belong to someone who was way too sexy and way too dangerous for their own good. "Nice try, Deadpool. But you're barking up the wrong frozen tree." She let out a dramatic sigh. "I wish. If I had ice powers, I'd be living in the Caribbean, making margaritas all day long." She paused, letting the suspense build. "But no. That's not my superpower, sweetheart. Try again."
Wade scratched his chin thoughtfully, giving her a half-grin that could rival any villain in a bad 90's comic book. "Wait, so no ice? No super-chill vibes, like Elsa gone rogue?" He squinted. "Are you like… a snowstorm waiting to happen?"
Vanessa's smirk widened, clearly enjoying the playful banter. She leaned back, letting her blue-skinned body melt into the couch like she owned the whole place. "Not exactly, Wade. I can shape-shift," she said, tapping her fingers lightly on the coffee table. "As in, I can turn into anyone. Looks, voice, whatever. I've got the whole 'identity crisis' thing going on. And that's not even the best part."
Wade blinked, his head tilting to the side in mock confusion. "Wait, so... you're telling me you could pull a 'no-questions-asked' undercover op and totally impersonate someone? That's kinda cool, but also, uh, weird." He leaned in, lowering his voice. "So, what else? You planning to steal my sweet dance moves or something?"
Vanessa chuckled, leaning forward and locking eyes with him, her grin turning into something way too sexy for its own good. "Oh, I can do more than steal your moves. I can also copy someone's powers." Her voice dipped a little lower, almost hushed, as if she was about to share a dark, delicious secret. "If I'm close enough to someone for long enough, I can take their abilities. Just a little souvenir from them, you know?"
Wade's eyes widened, his head snapping back as if she'd just revealed she could turn water into tequila. "Wait—hold up. So, you could, like, walk into a party, touch a guy for, I don't know, thirty seconds, and boom—now you've got his superpowers? That's like the mutant version of 'borrow a cup of sugar.'"
Vanessa's smirk deepened, an eyebrow arching in amusement. "Exactly. I'm like a power thief, but without all the sneaking around and masks." She paused, letting it hang there for a moment. "But don't get any funny ideas, Wade. I'm not in the business of stealing your powers. Especially not when you've got the best thing going for you as it is."
Wade, pretending to be deep in thought, slapped a hand to his chest in mock hurt. "What? You don't want to steal my healing factor and my super invulnerability? The thing that makes me look decent, y'know, despite my whole 'burnt marshmallow' aesthetic?"
Vanessa chuckled, a sound that could melt even the coldest of hearts. "No, Wade. Your powers are already yours. No need for me to get greedy. Besides, there's something… intimate about just being with you as you are. Even if you look like someone gave a beauty queen a hot poker to the face."
Wade's mouth twisted into a lopsided grin, his humor still on full throttle. "Ahh, you're too kind. But seriously—under the mask? Sometimes I think I'm one bad day away from being cast as the villain in The Walking Dead." His voice dropped an octave, a rare sincerity creeping in as he glanced at her. "I mean, look at me, V. You could find someone way prettier. Hell, you could find someone with an actual face."
Vanessa's expression softened just a bit, and she reached out, placing her hand on his. "Oh, Wade. You're not ugly. Your face… well, it's definitely something, alright." She gave him a knowing, teasing look. "But it's your face. And I love it. It's the only face I want to see, even if it's covered in a few layers of destruction."
Wade blinked, a tiny flame of warmth blossoming in his chest as he processed her words. "So, wait… you really mean it? You're not just saying that to make me feel better about looking like a chewed-up piece of gum that got stuck under a bench?"
Vanessa rolled her eyes, a playful smile tugging at her lips. "If I didn't mean it, I wouldn't say it, Wade. But I get it. You're a bit of a mess. But you're my mess. And for the record—if I were a little tipsy, I'd be all over you. Mask, scars, and all."
Wade's eyes widened. "Oh, I see how it is. What, you get a few shots in you, and you're like, 'Oh, Wade's face is my new favorite pillow?'"
Vanessa's smirk turned downright dangerous. "Yeah, something like that. If I'm drunk enough, I'd be the one happily sitting on your face, enjoying every second of it." She winked, her tone laced with sarcasm. "But we both know it's gonna take a lot of tequila to make that happen."
Wade leaned back, feigning shock. "Wait—so, you're telling me, after a few too many margaritas, you'd actually consider… sitting on my face?" He burst out laughing. "Oh, this is gold. The girl of my dreams, ladies and gentlemen!"
Vanessa gave him a look that made his stomach do somersaults. "You've got charm, Wade. I'll give you that. And trust me, with enough tequila, you could turn this mess into something pretty damn amazing."
Wade grinned like an idiot, feeling a little lighter than usual. "So, what you're saying is… I just need to find the nearest liquor store, and I've got a shot at some very questionable decisions tonight?"
Vanessa laughed, a sound so rich with affection it almost made his scars feel like a badge of honor. "Something like that. But you don't need to worry, Wade. You're already perfect for me. Just the way you are. And that's saying something."
Wade leaned forward, his forehead gently brushing against hers. "You're crazy. But I think I'm crazy for you."
Vanessa smirked, pressing a soft kiss to his lips. "And I'm crazy for you, too. Now let's get to the tequila. And see what happens next."
Wade's grin widened beneath his mask. "This is gonna be a disaster, but I'm in."
—
Wade's eyes, hidden behind his mask, flickered with that trademark mischief, and he leaned toward the reader as if sharing a deep, dark secret. "Oh, hey there, guys. Don't pretend you're not getting a little hot under the collar. I see you over there, leaning in like you're watching a good Netflix show. But here's the thing—before you get too comfortable, it's time to switch gears. Yeah, I know what you're thinking: 'More Wade? Really? We're already drowning in the sarcasm and random pop culture references!' But trust me, it's about to get real—and not in the 'we're all gonna die' way, either."
He tapped his mask as if it was the most serious thing ever. "Alright, alright. Time to dial it back a little. Get ready, because it's about to get Physical. And before you start humming Olivia Newton-John—no, I mean the classic version, none of that leather-clad, 80s aerobics nonsense. You know the drill. Don't pretend like you're not about to picture me in some tight, shiny pants and some strategically placed sweatbands. Can we just take a moment to talk about how much that song really gets us all going? It's like kinky in the most wholesome way possible. Go ahead, grab your partner, and just—no, I'm kidding. You do you."
Wade paused for effect, rocking back on his heels like he was preparing for a big moment. "But listen, all this talk about getting 'Physical'? That's just my way of telling you that things are about to get way dirtier than your average HBO special. I'm talking about, like, PG-13 on the surface but if you squint a little, it's X-rated and bordering on Darth Vader in a S&M mask wild. Yeah, I said it. Don't act like you weren't expecting it. You know exactly what I'm talking about. You see, folks, sometimes the plot is just a vehicle for the chaos—and in this case, it's a really fancy vehicle... probably one of those vintage cars that makes you feel good about yourself until you realize it costs more than your whole life. But enough about me! Well, not enough about me, because... who doesn't love me? But, y'know, I'm not here to bore you with the details."
Wade leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "Now let's talk about the real star of this show—Harry Lokison." He smirked, adjusting his stance like he was about to deliver a knockout punch. "Yeah, yeah, I know you've heard of him. Harry Potter, son of Loki, son of Artemis, basically the magical, godly lovechild the universe didn't know it needed. He's got a bad-boy mystique, and not in the 'I'm-a-vampire-who-doesn't-know-how-to-love' way. Nah, Harry's got guts—and not just metaphorically, like me. No, he literally turned into Godzilla—but Harryzilla in his case—and I gotta say, it was honestly one of the most epic things I've ever seen. The monster, the mayhem, the utter chaos... it was like watching a toddler try to do an MMA match, but like, with way more explosions and questionable life choices. It's really just what the doctor ordered, you know?"
Wade grinned like he'd just finished an entire bottle of tequila on his own. "Anyway, that's enough about Harry for now. I could talk about his godly powers all day. But this isn't a TED Talk on How To Be a Demigod 101. We're going back to what really matters here... the action. We're talking full-throttle, big-tits-waving-in-the-wind action, folks. So strap in—if you're into that sort of thing."
He snapped his fingers and a swish of air seemed to come with it, his playful energy shifting. "But look, enough of this verbal foreplay. Let's get back to the main event, okay? So if you were hoping for more whitty Deadpool-isms and not, like, actual plot, don't worry—your luck's running out. It's time for Harry to kick some major mythical creature ass. And when I say major, I mean—imagine Godzilla, but instead of rampaging through Tokyo, it's a bunch of mythical creatures running for their lives because they can feel the thunder in the air. That's our boy Harry. Mess with him, and it's gonna be game over. But you know what? I have full faith that Harry'll probably pull a cool one-liner right before he hits the 'kill switch' and takes down that big, ugly beast like he's got a plan."
Wade's grin widened. "Cue dramatic music. It's action time, baby."
The air seemed to crackle as the scene shifted again, but not before Wade paused and winked at the reader one last time.
"By the way," he said, giving a quick glance to the side, "Vanessa just called me. Yeah, yeah, I know you're probably wondering where this is going, and no, it's not 'heroic banter' time yet. She said she needs me for some... 'alone time' in the bedroom. And, uh, I'm gonna be a gentleman about it, which means I'm gonna check with Alvarez and Sofia if they've got any lube in the safehouse. Gotta keep things nice and slippery, y'know? So, for all you fans of the Rated-X material, keep your eyes peeled. You never know when my favorite red leather pants are going to make a reappearance."
With that, Wade shot a final smirk and a finger-gun at the reader, then skipped off toward the bedroom, the sounds of his self-satisfied chuckle echoing behind him.
"Later, nerds. I'll be here... being a hero. Or, y'know, hero-adjacent. Wink wink."
And then the scene transitioned, as promised...
---
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