However, Deadpool, who had been enjoying himself, suddenly froze, mid-doodle.
Then, with an exaggerated sigh, he tossed his crayon aside. "Oh, hello! Surprised? You should be. A background character like me finally getting some screen time—what a twist!"
He leaned forward, hands on his hips.
"And before you ask, no, it's not because I broke the fourth wall. That's just ridiculous. The real reason? A little backdoor deal. And no, don't overthink it.
It's exactly as dirty as you imagine. Ah, the sacrifices I make. You've never seen Deadpool in women's clothing, have you?" He struck a dramatic pose, hands framing his masked face.
"And yeah, I know what you're thinking—'But Wade, your face is, uh, an acquired taste.' And to that, I say, rude! But fair. Maybe I'll find someone to fix it. Oh!"
His train of thought derailed as he spotted a convoy of black SUVs rolling up beneath the overpass. "Well, looks like it's murder o'clock."
Humming a jaunty tune, Deadpool casually reached for the katanas strapped to his back.
"Now, you might think I'd shout something heroic, like 'Justice rains from above!' but nah. I just like sharp objects.
Also, ran out of bullets this morning—stupid Uber pool rush. Oh, wait, I wasn't supposed to say that part. Pretend you didn't hear it."
With that, he leaped off the overpass. "Leap of faith!"
CRASH!
Glass shattered as Deadpool landed through the sunroof of the middle SUV, rolling inside with theatrical grace.
He kicked his feet up on the dashboard. "Perfect landing, ten outta ten. Now, let's have some fun."
He pivoted and booted the nearest goon straight through the back window.
The guy screamed all the way out.
"Oops. My bad!"
"Get him!" someone shouted.
The remaining passengers lunged, but Deadpool was already moving.
He dodged a punch, twisting around to reveal a crumpled drawing.
"Hey, anyone seen this guy? I'm looking for a Francis—"
WHAM!
A goon grabbed his head and slammed it into the car stereo.
"Ow! Rude!" Deadpool groaned, prying himself free.
"Okay, I'll admit, didn't see that one coming." He twisted, snapping the guy's arm before stuffing a still-lit cigarette lighter into his mouth.
"How's that taste? Like regret? No? Okay, moving on."
Another thug yanked out a pistol, but his aim was terrible.
The bullet missed Deadpool completely and hit the driver instead.
"Oh no—" Deadpool started.
The SUV swerved wildly before smashing into another vehicle, setting off a chaotic chain reaction of car crashes.
Deadpool crawled out of the wreckage, brushing off glass shards.
"Well, kids, today's lesson: don't shoot the driver mid-chase. It's just bad manners."
More black SUVs screeched to a halt, surrounding him.
A small army of goons armed with machine guns piled out.
"Oh, good, more friends!" Deadpool ducked behind a wrecked car as bullets rained down.
"Gotta love the great free America. Just casually walking the streets, and boom! Surprise terrorists. You won't believe this, but I actually support gun control—at least, like, right now. This would be way easier if none of you had guns."
He peeked out.
"Hey! You guys ever wonder why I wear red? It's so you can't see me bleeding! Hah! Classic joke."
The mercenaries stared.
"…No? Tough crowd."
RATATAT!
A fresh hail of gunfire forced Deadpool back behind cover.
He sighed, retrieving a broken side mirror. He angled it to check their positions, then smirked.
"Alright, negotiations failed. Guess we're doing this the fun way. I've only got twelve bullets left—any bets on how many of you drop?" He pulled out his pistols, grinning.
"Let's find out."
Deadpool glanced at the dwindling number of bullets in his pistols and grinned beneath his mask.
"Anyone keeping count? 'Cause I might need to focus here."
Without waiting for an answer—because let's be honest, who was counting?—he leaped out from behind the car, fingers squeezing the triggers in rapid succession.
The sharp cracks of gunfire rang out, and two of the terrorists' heads snapped back as they dropped to the pavement.
"Da-da-da-da!" The others retaliated, unloading a hailstorm of bullets that forced Deadpool to duck back behind cover.
"Geez, kids these days. You all ever heard of moderation? What if you run out of ammo before the next villain fight, huh? Unlike you, I'm disciplined—twelve shots a day, max. Keeps the wrists strong and the doctor off my back."
Predictably, his trash talk earned him even more gunfire.
One of the thugs on a motorcycle skidded around the car, a submachine gun spraying lead wildly.
"Oww, that one actually stung!" Deadpool muttered, glancing at the fresh hole punched through his forearm.
He tilted his head, looking through the wound to see the bike circling back for another pass.
"Oh, that is so not okay."
He lifted his pistol and fired. "Ten, motherf—!" The biker ducked, barely dodging the bullet.
Deadpool fired again. "Nine, you sneaky little—!"
Another shot.
"Eight! I hope you and your whole family are square dancing on a grave somewhere!"
The biker veered behind a row of cars, momentarily escaping Deadpool's line of sight.
"Sad Deadpool~!" Deadpool chirped, feigning disappointment.
As he sighed dramatically, a thug lunged at him from the side.
Without missing a beat, he fired over his shoulder. "Bang! Awesome Deadpool~!"
Another bullet found a thug mid-reload, another found a guy fiddling with a grenade.
"Oops, bad timing for you, buddy."
Deadpool popped up from behind cover, doing an exaggerated victory dance. Then—
"Da-da-da-da!"
A terrorist unloaded on his backside.
"AHHHH, SON OF A—!" Deadpool clutched his ass and spun, unloading three vengeful rounds into the attacker, then another few shots just for good measure.
"Dude! Who aims for another man's cheeks?! You got some issues, my guy. Do you even know who had dibs on those last night? No name-having, sneak-shooting, absolute gutter-tier villain—!" He stopped mid-rant as he turned and spotted three more thugs peeking out from behind a wrecked car.
"Line up nice and neat, boys!" Deadpool rolled to the side and fired a single shot.
Three heads snapped back in perfect unison before they crumpled to the ground.
He twirled his pistol and blew on the barrel like some old Western gunslinger.
"Three in one. Man, I'm getting better at this. Might have to celebrate tonight."
With most of the goons taken care of, Deadpool refocused. "Now, where's my favorite little Francis?
Daddy Deadpool is here to play! Come on out, kitten! I know you're lurking somewhere!"
He skipped between the cars, poking his head into wrecked vehicles like a kid looking for a lost toy.
But Francis was nowhere to be found.
"The f—? Where the hell did he go?"
A loud engine roared to life.
Deadpool's head whipped around just in time to see the biker with the submachine gun—back for round two.
"Oh, so you wanna be a problem?" Deadpool sneered, reaching over his shoulder. In one swift motion, he yanked out his katana and flung it.
"Bang!"
The sword wedged itself into the front wheel.
The motorcycle flipped end over end, and the rider was launched straight into the pavement with a spectacular thud.
Deadpool cracked his knuckles as he approached.
"Finally! The one-on-one boss fight. You know, the moment we all live for."
He grabbed Francis by the collar and threw a heavy punch.
Then an uppercut.
Then another uppercut.
Then a knee to the gut.
"And now, ladies and gentlemen, the grand finale! We start with the 'Say Goodbye to Your Future Children' special!
Then we transition into 'The Monkey Steals the Peach!' Followed by 'Fishing for the Moon in the Sea!'
Then the legendary 'Strike the Yellow Dragon!'
Finishing up with a little 'Lightning Poison Dragon Drill'—oh wait, wrong script.
My bad. Let's just beat the crap out of him!"
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Word count: 1369...
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