Chapter 148: Malekith Goes to Work
The next day.
On the streets of New York.
Malekith stood at the intersection of Times Square, his expression uglier than if he had swallowed a fly.
The dignified leader of the Dark Elves, the nightmare of the Nine Realms.
Now he actually had to use cell phone navigation to find a company called "Vought International" to clock in for work.
That employment contract stained with his soul's blood imprint was burning hot in his pocket.
Last night he tried to resist a little.
His soul almost got pulled into noodles.
"Damn Midgardian monkey." Malekith gritted his teeth.
He looked up around him.
In his grand vision, the ultimate end of the Universe should be endless darkness.
All living, breathing carbon-based life forms should be completely wiped out by the Aether Particle.
And the result?
Two scantily clad simulation robots were handing out flyers at the street corner.
On the giant screen opposite.
A man named Tony Stark had a look of utter despair as he endorsed an "AI doll".
This World was so gaudy that it made him nauseous.
"Humans are just filthy."
Malekith let out a cold snort, preparing to casually grab a human to ask for directions, but he really didn't want to touch these lower life forms.
Suddenly.
His gaze pierced through the crowd and locked onto a small alley entrance.
A non-human was standing there.
Crimson skin, a pair of curved black demonic horns, and a barbed tail behind him.
Most importantly, the other party emitted a pure aura of the Dark Dimension!
Malekith felt a deep sense of familiarity.
A demon! This was an ally!
He walked over quickly.
He gave a low greeting in the ancient Dark language.
"Friend from the abyss, the order here is nauseating. Are you also here to destroy this Planet?"
The red-skinned demon turned his head and looked him up and down.
"Yo, old man, quite good at chatting up people, huh?"
The demon opened his mouth, speaking in a fluent New York Brooklyn accent.
Malekith was stunned.
The demon skillfully handed over a small pink card.
And smoothly hooked his arm around Malekith's.
The two silicone lumps on his chest rubbed against his armor.
"Vought Hell co-branded Succubus robot, driven by pure Hell demonic energy."
"Full set of ice and fire dual-heaven service, supporting 108 language voice packs."
The Succubus robot gave a wink.
"Down payment is only 18,000, interest-free installments to take home! Guaranteed to make you die of pleasure."
Malekith froze completely in place.
He reached out and pinched the other person's arm.
No soul.
Only alloy skeleton, simulation silicone, and a trace of Hell demonic energy diluted countless times used as driving energy.
"What the fu—"
Malekith's worldview was frantically rubbed against the sewer.
Using Hell demonic energy to make sex dolls?!
What kind of lunatics are the people on this Planet!
"Get lost!"
Malekith was enraged out of shame.
He shoved the Succubus robot away and walked towards Vought Tower following the navigation.
Vought International headquarters, top-floor conference room.
The heavy door was pushed open.
Malekith walked in.
The conference room was full of people.
Tony Stark was chewing on a doughnut.
Steve Rogers was holding a pen and scribbling in a notebook.
Thor was holding a large mug of iced beer and gulping it down.
A bunch of Vought International executives sat on both sides of the long table.
Sitting in the main seat was precisely that man wearing a Stars and Stripes cape and a brilliant smile.
Lin An.
"Yo, our visual director is here."
Lin An tapped the table.
"Find a place to sit anywhere. Everyone is here, let's get straight to the point."
Malekith humiliatingly pulled out a chair and sat down.
Lin An snapped his fingers.
Ultron's holographic projection appeared in the center of the table, and a PPT spread out.
"The third installment of the Vought Universe series of films, Thor: Dark Dimension, is officially greenlit today."
Lin An pointed at the projection.
"Malekith, as villain number one and the crew's special effects director, the visual effects of this film are handed over to you."
"Remember, I'm not blind, don't give me those pink cotton candies again. If it's filmed without an epic feel, I'll knead you into cotton candy."
Malekith slammed a palm onto the table abruptly.
"I am the leader of the Dark Elves! I once ruled the Nine Realms! You want me to make movie special effects?!"
"Warning one, deduction of twenty percent of the monthly base salary."
Lin An leaned back in the swivel chair, holding a nail file to leisurely trim his nails.
"Talk nonsense again, and I'll have people strip you bare and hang you in the square, dancing pole dance with that Succubus robot on the street earlier every day."
Malekith instantly shut his mouth.
That image was too beautiful; he'd rather die.
But somehow he couldn't die.
"Boss, I've read the script."
Tony raised his hand.
"Big scenes are there. But how do we handle the exterior shots on Asgard? We don't even have a spaceship, are we relying entirely on green screen matting?"
"Matting is so cheap." Lin An sneered, "We'll go shoot on location."
"On location? Go to Asgard?" Steve was stunned.
"Right."
Lin An reached into his pocket, fished out a weirdly-shaped communicator, and pressed the red call button.
In the conference room, everyone looked at each other in dismay.
Malekith looked at Lin An even more as if looking at a lunatic.
What kind of place was Asgard? That was the Allfather Odin's territory!
That old man had a very explosive temper.
Back then, he pinned the Dark Elves to the ground and hammered them.
You, a mere Earthling, say you'll go shoot on location just like that?
"Beep—"
The video communication connected.
On the giant big screen, the image of Asgard's throne hall appeared.
"Odin", wearing a golden single eye patch and holding the Eternal Spear, sat solemnly and properly on the throne.
Majestic, solemn, exuding an inviolable divine might.
"Midgardian."
The thick and deep voice of "Odin" came from the screen.
"What is your business with me?"
When Thor saw the screen, he quickly put down his beer mug and straightened up.
"Father!"
The eyelids of "Odin" on the screen twitched violently.
But he still snorted, feigning calmness.
Lin An leaned back in the boss chair, putting his legs directly on the conference table.
"Old man, informing you of something."
Lin An said casually, his tone just like ordering takeout.
"Next Monday, the Vought film crew is going over to your place to shoot a movie."
"The throne hall, the Bifrost Bridge, and whatever that Golden Palace is, clear them all out for me as shooting locations."
Tony's mouth opened slightly.
Half a doughnut dropped onto the table with a smack.
Steve exerted force with his hand, directly snapping the ballpoint pen into two halves.
Malekith abruptly shrank his neck back.
The way he looked at Lin An was completely like looking at a peerless lunatic.
Has he gone mad?!
He actually dares to talk to Odin like this!
"Insolence!"
"Odin" on the screen was furious.
The Eternal Spear heavily struck the ground, producing a loud bang.
"Asgard is a sacred place, how can you mortals treat it as a stage..."
"Besides the venue, allocate another five thousand Golden-armored Guards to me as extras."
Lin An completely ignored him.
"Oh right, I heard there are still quite a few Frost Giants locked up in your underground prison? Bring them all out as villain cannon fodder."
"We at Vought will cover the meals."
"You—"
"Odin" trembled with anger, pointing at the screen.
As if the next second he would summon thunder to strike this madman to death.
"You what you."
Lin An's voice turned cold.
His eyes revealed a thinly veiled threat.
"I am notifying you, not discussing it with you."
"The crew will arrive on time next Monday."
"If you dare say half a no, or if there is one less extra, I will fly over personally to teach you how to run things. Understand?"
Loki on the other end of the screen shivered.
The contract deep within his soul jerked violently, hurting so much that he almost slipped off the throne.
He knew Lin An was not joking.
This lunatic would really throw the contract in his face, and then kick him off the throne to shovel manure on Earth.
The chest of "Odin" on the screen heaved violently a few times.
The flesh on his face twitched uncontrollably.
Finally, he forcefully squeezed out an extremely discordant, stiff smile.
"Fine... I'll cooperate."
"Odin" clenched his back molars, popping out the words one by one.
"The venue will be cleared, five thousand guards will assemble on the Bifrost Bridge on time next week, and I'll arrange the Frost Giants for you too. Whatever else you need, just command."
Tony's hand trembled.
The coffee he had just picked up spilled all over his suit pants.
"What the fuck is this Odin?!"
Tony lowered his voice, looking blankly at Steve.
Steve shook his head blankly, his worldview severely impacted.
Malekith gripped the chair armrests tightly with both hands.
That was the supreme being of the Nine Realms! The God King Odin who conquered the Universe!
Being pointed in the nose demanding venues and extras, not only did he not get angry, but he actually agreed?!
What kind of monster is this guy named Lin An!
How could his face be even bigger than the Infinity Stones!
"That's more like it. Hang up." Lin An nodded with satisfaction.
"Wait!"
"Odin" on the screen hurriedly shouted.
Out of the corner of his eye, Loki caught sight of Thorstanding straight beside him, and instantly got an idea.
Since I am suffering this indignity, I won't let you, this foolish brother, off easy!
"Father, do you have any instructions?" Thor respectfully lowered his head.
Loki cleared his throat.
Putting on the airs of the God King, he slowly spoke in a fatherly tone.
"Thor, my good son."
"Father!" Thor's eyes turned red.
"Do a good job on Earth."
Loki held back his smile, "Learn more skills from John. Lose 50 pounds starting from now."
"Looking at your current figure, you're simply losing face for us Asgardian warriors."
"Remember, not a single hamburger is allowed. This is a trial."
Thor touched his small belly.
Sighed.
"Father, rest assured! I will definitely perform well in the Vought film crew and never let down your expectations!"
Turning his head, he looked at Lin An with an expression of adoration.
"Mentor, your personal charm is too strong, even Father is won over."
Loki on the screen rolled his eyes.
Won over my ass, I'm afraid he'll crush my soul!
"Alright, dismissed, good son."
Loki waved his hand and quickly cut off the communication.
The screen went black.
Only the sound of Lin An trimming his nails remained in the conference room.
Lin An stood up and clapped his hands.
"The venue is settled, the extras are settled. All departments prepare to start work."
Lin An walked over to the dumbfounded Malekith's side.
Patted his shoulder.
"What are you zoning out for, special effects director. Go back quickly and draw the storyboards."
"If you dare to conjure up a field of pink cotton candy for me again, I'll really send you off to solicit customers with the succubus."
Malekith shivered.
He honestly lowered his head, no longer daring to have the slightest thought of resistance.
Even the God King Odin has to act like a grandson to this man, what waves could his remnant troops raise?
"Yes... Boss."
Chapter 149: Logan's Internal Recommendation
The conference room was dead silent.
"Alright, pull yourselves together."
Lin An clapped his hands, drawing everyone's attention back.
"Since the venue and extras are all sorted out, we need to step up our efficiency."
He snapped his fingers, and the holographic projection controlled by Ultron changed once more, flipping the PPT to a new page.
On it appeared the rudimentary giant posters of four movies.
Thor 1: My Silly Older Brother"
Thor 2: Blood and Tears of the VFX Supervisor in the Dark Dimension
Wolverine: Prequel of Old Boys - Birth of a Tough Guy"
Spider-Man: Hero's Debut - Job Hunting Chronicles of a Chatterbox Kid"
Lin An pointed at the screen with the brightest smile a capitalist could wear upon seeing a KPI report.
"Shooting them one by one is too slow, which doesn't align with the fast-paced, high-efficiency corporate culture of Vought International. I've decided that these four films will start shooting simultaneously!"
"Pfft—"
The mouthful of water that Tony had just drunk directly spewed out.
"Four?!"
"Simultaneous filming?!"
There was an uproar in the conference room.
"Boss, this... we don't have enough crew members for the sets." A production department supervisor stood up, wiping cold sweat.
"If the team isn't enough, poach them; if the money isn't enough, go find Tony." Lin An tossed the problem away in a single sentence. "Didn't Stark Industries' stock price just skyrocket because of the doll endorsement? Consider it returning a favor."
Tony: "I fucking thank you so much!"
Lin An's gaze finally fell on Malekith, who was already shivering in the corner.
"Malekith."
"H-Here, Boss." The Dark Elf leader instinctively straightened his posture.
"You, as our chief visual effects director at Vought Studios," Lin An smiled amiably, "shall coordinate the special effects for all four of these movies."
"What?!"
Malekith's vision darkened, and he almost passed out on the spot.
Four!
And they were all god-tier visual effects blockbuster movies!
Coordinate them all by himself?!
This fucking made him an indentured laborer in a sweatshop! The soul contract didn't write this down!
"Any problems?" Lin An's gaze turned cold.
"N-No..." Malekith felt the contract deep within his soul start to twitch in pain again, so he hurriedly lowered his head, his voice tinged with a cry, "Guaranteed to complete the mission."
As an overlord of the Dark Dimension in the Universe, he had now actually been reduced to a black slave responsible for the special effects of four movies alone...
Malekith was so grieved he couldn't even cry.
"Very good." Lin An nodded with satisfaction, "Next topic, the leading actor of Spider-Man."
He shouted into the air: "Peter, come down, stop eavesdropping on the ceiling."
As soon as the voice fell, the vent cover on the ceiling was pushed open, and a thin figure in a red and blue tight suit leaped down nimbly, landing steadily in the center of the conference table.
"Hi! Boss! Hello, everyone, seniors!"
Peter Parker waved his hands excitedly, his voice trembling slightly with excitement.
"Do I finally have a chance to appear? Goodness, I've waited for this day for so long!
Let me tell you, the competition in our company is simply too fierce! A few days ago, I went to the X-Men crew wanting to audition for a villain, and guess what? Even the odd-job workers were Mutants!"
"And during the last Battle of New York, the seniors were so fiercely competitive that it ended before I could even touch an alien's leg!
I feel like if I don't debut soon, my job of being a community hero in Queens is going to be snatched away. Fortunately, that Deep Sea Love was just a boss's joke, hehe, as expected, the boss still cares about me..."
Once Chatterbox Parker started talking, he was like an unstoppable faucet, leaving everyone in the conference room stunned with his words.
Lin An rubbed his temples and directly fetched a suitcase from the side, tossing it to him.
"If you don't shut up, that Deep Sea Love won't be a joke anymore."
Peter opened the suitcase frantically, his eyes lighting up instantly.
Inside was a brand-new Spider suit, full of design sense, a hundred times better than the one he sewed himself.
But he quickly discovered something was wrong.
On the chest, back, and arms of the suit, various logos were printed all over.
"Vought Energy Drink, scale walls and vault over roofs, instant mana recovery!"
"Head & Shoulders Strength Series Shampoo, fight upside down and your hairstyle won't get messy!"
"Vought AI companion, a hundred kinds of knowledge waiting for you to unlock."
Peter's face fell: "Boss, this..."
"This is your customized battle robe, and the sugar daddies think very highly of you," Lin An said expressionlessly.
"Remember, every time you fight from now on, especially in close-up shots, you must expose all these logos."
Peter Parker, this future friendly neighborhood of New York, felt his hero dream shatter into QR codes on the very first day of his debut.
At the other end of the conference room, Wolverine Loganwatched this farcical scene, yet breathed a long sigh of relief in his heart.
Great, filming movies and squeezing new employees.
It seemed the boss had already forgotten about that damned boy band.
Finally... finally he didn't have to wear that shameful stage costume and dance any pelvic thrust dances! He, Logan, could finally go back to shooting his tough-guy action blockbusters!
A barely perceptible smile had just curled up at the corner of his mouth.
A cold voice sounded right behind him.
"Logan, what are you smiling at?"
Logan's smile instantly froze on his face.
He could sense that Lin An was standing right behind him, that gaze seemingly able to pierce through his back and see right through all his little tricks.
"N-Nothing, Boss." Logan turned around stiffly, "I'm just happy that the company has discovered a newcomer."
"Is that so?" Lin An looked at him with a smile that didn't reach his eyes, "I thought you were happy that you could finally get rid of the boy band and go shoot your Wolverinefeature film."
It was over.
Logan's heart plummeted abruptly.
"Boss, I..."
"The movie has to be shot, and the tough-guy image has to be established too."
Lin An patted Logan's shoulder, his tone so "amiable" that it made all the hairs on Logan's body stand on end.
"This doesn't conflict with your identity as a member of 'Old Boys' boy band, does it?"
"What do you mean?"
Logan had an extremely ominous premonition.
"Meaning," Lin An's smile grew increasingly brilliant.
"This month, you cannot miss a single one of the three tour autograph sessions of 'Old Boys' boy band in Los Angeles, Chicago, and Miami."
"No—!"
Logan's inner self was roaring frantically, but he dared not utter a single word out loud.
Ever since he was hijacked by capital, he had been forced by Homelander to buy large apartments and luxury cars.
Under the guise of being Vought's image representative, he had to have face.
There was no help for it; he was still counting on that bit of salary to pay his mortgage.
In a corner not far away, Steve Rogers and Soldier BoyBenjamin were sitting together.
Seeing Logan's expression as if he had eaten a dead fly, the two could no longer hold it in, covering their mouths and letting out a muffled snort of laughter.
Steve felt that finally someone could share this pain with him.
As for Benjamin, he purely thought it was interesting to see this grumpy old buddy get deflated.
How sensitive were Logan's ears? Those two muffled laughs were like two steel needles piercing into his ears.
He turned his head abruptly, glaring fiercely at those two gloating guys.
Steve immediately reined in his smile, picked up a notebook, and pretended to study the script.
Benjamin simply winked at Logan and made a crotch-stroking gesture, making Logan so angry he almost bared his claws on the spot.
Damn it!
I can't be the only one suffering this humiliation.
A surge of bitter resentment rose from the bottom of Logan's heart, and desperation bred audacity.
He had decided that he must drag someone down with him as a scapegoat!
Logan turned his head back abruptly, squeezing out a fawning smile on his face.
"Boss!" Logan's voice was loud enough for the entire conference room to hear, "For the future of our Vought Studios and to enrich our actor reserves, I've decided to internally recommend a peerless good sapling to you!"
"Oh?" Lin An raised an eyebrow, growing a bit interested.
"Boss, back when I was a mercenary, I knew a guy!"
Logan began to boast frantically, "That guy is immortal! His regenerative capability is even stronger than mine! He can grow back even if he gets beaten into minced meat!
He is definitely good material for acting, not afraid of death no matter how much he's tossed around, and can save a huge sum of stunt double expenses!"
"And his mouth is exceptionally talkative, standing there as a walking meme, definitely a traffic password!"
The more Logan talked, the more excited he became, as if he had already seen the scene of that unlucky fellow being pinned to the ground by Lin An and crazily squeezed.
As long as there is someone more miserable than me, then I guess I'm not that miserable!
"Sounds not bad." Lin An was noncommittal, "What's his name?"
Logan leaned close to Lin An's ear and, in a demonic tone, uttered the name that gave even him a massive headache.
"His name is Wade Wilson."
Chapter 150: The Arrival of Little Cheapie
In the conference room, everyone's eyes were focused on Lin An and Logan.
The vicious smile on Logan's face had not yet dissipated; he seemed to have already seen that bastard.
in a miserable state of being rubbed on the ground by the boss and having his very last shred of value squeezed dry.
"That'll teach you to run your mouth every day! That'll teach you to snatch my last Mexico roll back then!"
Today is your retribution!
"An immortal body, a recovery ability even stronger than mine, an exceptionally talkative mouth, and comes with its own traffic code?"
Lin An repeated Logan's description, his fingers gently tapping on the desktop, making a rhythmic "da, da" sound.
Logan's heart rose to his throat.
The boss is... unsatisfied?
That shouldn't be! Isn't this kind of durable and reckless tool person your absolute favorite, Boss?
"Boss, this kid is definitely a talent! When filming, things like explosions, jumping buildings, and amputations are all done by Zhenren (Immortal)s personally! The effect is absolute!"
Logan was afraid that Homelander would go back on his word, so he quickly added to his pitch, "And his brain is abnormal, absolutely not like us... uh, I mean, he definitely won't have that many personal thoughts, guaranteed to be obedient!"
Hearing this, Steve and Benjamin in the corner both cast disdainful gazes.
You thick-eyebrowed big-eyed guy, to drag someone down into the water, you actually lack martial virtue this much!
However, Lin An's subsequent reaction made everyone drop their glasses in shock.
That pair of dead-fish eyes of his, which never changed for eternity, instantly burst forth with brilliant radiance upon hearing the name Wade.
That was a kind of... a kind of fanaticism and excitement of a veteran gunpla enthusiast seeing an out-of-print limited-edition Gundam, a kind of joy-seeker finding the ultimate toy!
Holy shit!
Deadpool?!
That ultimate talking king and traffic code in the Marvel Universe who is the most lawless, treats the fourth wall as nothing, and can prop up a meme website all by himself?!
Lin An's inner self was screaming wildly.
How the fuck did I forget him before!
This is a walking meme manufacturing machine, a man who comes with his own barrage and complaints!
With him, doing antics in the future, who else could be more devoid of lower limits than him?
This is striking gold!
"Ahem." Lin An forcibly suppressed the urge of the corners of his mouth to curve wildly upward, cleared his throat, and looked at Logan with unprecedentedly appreciative eyes.
"Logan."
"Ah? Here, Boss!" Logan felt his hair stand on end from being looked at by him.
"You've rendered a great service this time." Lin An heavily patted his shoulder, "This month's mortgage, I'll have the finance department exempt you from it."
Logan: "???"
What's the situation?
The stingy iron rooster actually plucked its feathers?
"This Wade, I want him." Lin An decisively decided, "Go on a business trip right now and sign him back for me."
"Now?" Logan was stunned.
"Yes, right now." Lin An stood up, swept his gaze around the dazed crowd in the conference room, "Today's meeting ends here, the movie project will advance synchronously according to plan. Malekith, if the special effects screw up, you know the consequences."
"Yes yes yes! Guaranteed to complete the mission!"
"Tony, you are responsible for getting sponsorships for Spider-Man's suit, the more the better."
Tony just wanted to protest when he saw Lin An's cold gaze sweep over, and could only swallow his words back, grinding his teeth as he gestured an "OK" sign.
"Everyone else, stick to your respective duties."
After saying this, Lin An grabbed the back collar of Logan's shirt and walked out like carrying a kitten.
Logan was completely dazed, and only reacted after being dragged for two steps.
"Boss, Boss, wait a moment!" He struggled a bit, "That Wade... he currently looks a bit... a bit sorry for the audience. I'm afraid he'll affect the company's image."
Who would have thought Lin An wouldn't even turn his head, saying in a matter-of-fact tone: "Isn't it just because of an explosion that he made himself look like an avocado."
Logan's footsteps suddenly halted, his eyes wide open like copper bells.
"Vought International has the most advanced biomedical technology under its umbrella, giving him plastic surgery is like child's play." Lin An continued, "Tell him, as long as he signs the contract, let alone restoring his original appearance, even wanting to get Chris Evans's face is no problem. Annual salary of one million."
Logan was completely dumbfounded.
He blankly looked at Lin An's back, his mind blank.
Boss... how does he know everything?
Fuck, are there still any secrets left in this company?
Could it be that his secretly customized Jean AI companion hasn't been discovered too, right?
The next day, Canada, a dilapidated small tavern reeking of cheap alcohol.
Wade was wearing his signature red and black tight suit, but without the hood, revealing that pitted face sufficient to make trypophobia patients pass away on the spot.
He held a Mexico chicken roll in one hand, raised a beer with the other, and was boasting to a stocky truck driver in front of the bar.
"Hey, big guy, let me tell you, last night I dreamed of a unicorn, furry and extremely cute! I told it I wanted to use its horn to skewer marshmallows, guess what it said?"
The truck driver moved away with a look of disgust: "I don't want to know."
"It said 'Get lost, pervert!'" After saying this, Wade laughed heartily by himself, spraying chicken roll crumbs everywhere from his mouth.
Just then, the tavern door was pushed open, and Loganwalked in biting a cigar with an unhappy expression.
"Wade."
Hearing the sound, Wade turned his head, and upon seeing Logan, his eyes lit up.
"Oh ho! Look who this is? Our great Wolverine mister! What, the tour concert of Old Boys boy band is over? How is your hip-thrusting dance practicing? Do you need me to give you a live demonstration?" As Wade spoke, he really swung his waist flirtatiously.
Logan's face turned black instantly, veins bulging on his forehead.
"Shut your stinking mouth, Wade." He walked to the front of the bar and sat down.
"Don't be so irritable, Luoluo." Wade grinned and leaned over, "You look like a husky constipated for half a month. Come on, tell me, which blind person provoked you? Is it that United States Sweetheart Captain, or that greasy Soldier Boy?"
"I'm here to give you a chance." Logan couldn't be bothered to talk nonsense with him, directly pulling out a document from his bosom and slapping it on the bar counter.
That was an exquisitely bound contract, with the eagle Logo of Vought International on the cover.
"Vought International?" Wade picked up the contract and whistled, "Oh, is that the entertainment company that recently turned superheroes into an idol boy band? What, did they finally discover my dust-covered pearl? Want me to go be a trainee?"
"Our boss wants to sign you as an actor." Logan was concise.
"Actor? Tch." Wade opened the contract, and when he saw the numbers in the salary column, his eyes instantly straightened.
"Annual salary... one million... US dollars?!"
He looked further down.
"Party A promises to provide Party B with the world's top biomedical technology, repairing its facial and whole-body skin until it restores to its optimal state..."
Wade's hands began to tremble slightly.
He raised his head, looking at Logan in disbelief: "Is this true?"
"The boss said it himself." Logan gulped down a mouthful of wine.
Wade stared fixedly at the contract, the expression on his face constantly shifting from wild joy to suspicion, and then to a neurotic excitement.
The noisy music and voices in the tavern seemed to have vanished at this moment.
Suddenly, Wade made an action that Logan and everyone in the tavern couldn't understand.
He jerked his head up, not looking at Logan, nor at the ceiling, but at the empty air, as if there was an invisible camera pointing at him there.
He made an internationally universal friendly gesture toward that patch of air.
"Fuck you!"
"Deadbeat author, you fucking finally decided to let Laozi make an appearance?!"
"Just wait! Protagonist? Hmph! Starting today, the art style of this book will be dominated by me!"
"Your Deadpool daddy is here!"
Little Cheapie: Let me see who isn't giving a good review?
Chapter 151: A Lunatic Calls at the Door
Vought International, New York Headquarters Building.
The mirror-smooth marble floor reflected the hurried figures of elites coming and going.
The air was filled with the smell of money and power, and every single person's face practically spelled out the words "I am very expensive".
However, this expensive tranquility was completely shattered today by an uninvited guest.
"Duang!"
The brass revolving door was pushed open in an extremely rude manner. A freak dressed in a red and black tight suit, with two katanas crossed on his back, swaggered in with an unyielding gait.
The blond receptionist at the front desk had her professional fake smile freeze instantly.
The patrolling security personnel subconsciously touched the stun batons at their waists.
All the elites in the lobby looked uniformly at this guy whose style was completely out of tune with the place, as if someone had pressed the pause button.
Ignoring everyone's gaze, the man walked straight to the center of the lobby, looked up, and glanced at the surveillance camera blinking with a red dot in the corner of the ceiling.
The next second, he raised his hand and gave the camera the middle finger.
"Hey! Friends in front of the lens! I know you are watching!"
His voice came through the mask of the tight suit, carrying a muffled yet unusually excited tone.
"And you! That director sitting behind the monitor! Yes, that is you!"
"Who wrote this script? Can you be a little more professional?!"
"At this timeline, shouldn't Tony Stark be pounding iron in a cave in Afghanistan? Shouldn't Captain America be dancing a boy band dance... Oh, this one seems to match."
"But why is the lead actor this knockoff Superman?! I! The great Deadpool My Lord! am the absolute protagonist of this R-rated blockbuster! You left me hanging for so long, do you think my dual blades are not fast enough?!"
The lobby was dead silent.
The security Captain had already brought people to surround him, but everyone had a blank expression, not knowing how to deal with the lunatic in front of them cursing at the air.
Script?
Knockoff Superman?
What is all this nonsense?
The beautiful receptionist at the front desk pressed the emergency call button with trembling hands, and whispered into the communicator: "Ms. Madelyn, there is someone in the lobby... a terrorist who might need psychiatric intervention."
The red and black freak obviously heard it. He suddenly turned his head, slid over to the front desk, supported his hands on the desk, and took off his hood.
He thrust his face in front of the beautiful receptionist.
"Beauty, don't be nervous. I am not a terrorist, I am your destined Prince Charming, except that my horse might be a little constipated."
Scared out of her wits by his face, the beautiful receptionist let out a short scream.
"Also, don't call the psychiatric department, just call the obstetrics and gynecology department directly, because I feel like you have already conceived my child. Look, your eyes are filled with the radiance of motherhood!"
"Captain! Control him!"
The security Captain finally reacted and roared, and several burly guards rushed up immediately.
"Oh ho! I'm getting the feeling!"
Instead of running, Deadpool excitedly twisted his waist, "Are we going to play the game of cops and robbers? I like it! But I declare in advance, I only play the Police, because I like using handcuffs."
Just as the guards were about to pounce on him, Deadpool's figure suddenly became ghostly.
He shuttled through the crowd, dodging capture while continuing his stand-up comedy towards the ceiling camera.
"Seriously, the casting of this movie is too bad! Sending Wolverine to tour with a boy band? Having Professor Xand Magneto bromance? You might as well send me to Hogwarts to teach Defense Against the Dark magic!"
"I guarantee that within three episodes, I will make Voldemort cry and beg to learn how to make Mexican chicken rolls with me! That is what you call cultural output!"
The guards were panting from exhaustion, yet they couldn't even touch the corner of his clothes.
Madelyn stepped in high heels and rushed out of the elevator with a fully armed tactical squad, seeing such a chaotic and comical scene.
"Stop! Who are you?l"
Madelyn shouted sternly. The tactical squad behind her had already raised their assault rifles, and the red laser dots aimed at the bouncing red and black figure.
Deadpool did a backflip, landing steadily on top of an eagle sculpture, spread his hands, and said in an aria-like tone:
"Who am I? I am a riddle, a legend, a walking meme, a man you can't get enough of! You can call me... Daddy Deadpool!"
Veins bulged on Madelyn's forehead, and she felt her blood pressure soaring.
Since the establishment of Vought International, she had handled all kinds of crises and seen all sorts of superhumans, but none of them made her feel like her intelligence and authority were doubly insulted like the guy in front of her.
This was no terrorist at all; this was simply a pure lunatic!
Terminal stage!
...
Meanwhile, on the top floor of Vought Tower, in the president's office.
Lin An crossed his legs, sitting in front of a huge floor-to-ceiling window. On the dozens of surveillance screens in front of him, everything happening in the lobby was being broadcast live simultaneously.
When that red and black figure appeared, Lin An's invariably dead-fish eyes lit up instantly.
When he heard the line "shouldn't Tony Stark be pounding iron in a cave in Afghanistan", the curve of his mouth began to rise uncontrollably.
When he heard "knockoff Superman", he couldn't even help laughing softly.
"Damn it... Finally here."
Lin An's heart was in wild ecstasy.
That thick-browed and big-eyed guy Logan finally did something human!
Deadpool! Wade Wilson!
The coolest kid in this Marvel Universe, the only one who knows the "original plot", and the ultimate troll who single-handedly raised the entire Universe's level of scummyness!
Other people watch Marvel to see the plot, the special effects, and the heroes fighting to the death.
Lin An watches Marvel to have fun, to rub these high-and-mighty gods and heroes into the ground, and to squeeze out the very last bit of traffic from them.
And Deadpool, without a doubt, is the person in this Worldwho best understands "fun" and "traffic"!
He didn't need Lin An to guide him at all. He himself was a walking explosive point, a perpetual motion machine of memes!
"Boss, do you need me to have the sniper in position?" Madelyn's cold voice came from the communicator, obviously having lost patience.
"No need."
Lin An picked up the coffee on the table, took a gentle sip, and the smile on his face became even more brilliant.
"Let him up."
In the lobby, Madelyn took a deep breath, suppressed the confusion and unwillingness in her heart, and gave the order into the communicator.
The guards and tactical squad surrounding Deadpoolretreated like a tide.
Deadpool jumped down from the sculpture, patted the dust on his butt, and gave a flashy salute to the camera.
"Thanks for the general director's mercy! This little one will definitely perform well!"
He walked into the elevator and pressed the top floor button.
The moment the elevator door closed, he suddenly showed an evil and charming smile towards the mirror camera in the elevator.
"Hey, kids in front of the TV, guess what will happen next?"
"A: I get blown up by a punch from that knockoff Superman."
"B: I fool the knockoff Superman into limping, and make him go sell wraps with me."
"C: We fell in love."
"I bet fifty cents on C!"
"Ding—"
The elevator reached the top floor.
Humming a little tune, Deadpool walked out of the elevator and caught sight of the huge double doors carved with the eagle emblem at the end of the corridor.
He straightened the non-existent wrinkles on his body and took a deep breath.
The door was kicked open.
Inside the office, Lin An slowly turned his chair, watching with a smile the flashy figure posing at the doorway.
With one hand on his hip and the other pointing at Lin An, Deadpool teased him in a tone as if he had discovered a new World.
"Yo, isn't this the knockoff Superman? Does your cape fade in color?"
Chapter 152: The Century Meeting of Two Jokers
Inside the office, Lin An slowly spun his chair around, looking with a smile at the flashy-posed figure at the doorway.
He didn't even lift an eyelid.
Just as Deadpool wanted to continue his stand-up routine and roast how tacky the color scheme of Lin An's uniform was, two crimson beams shot out from Lin An's eyes without warning.
"Bzz———!!!"
Fast, way too fast.
So fast that Deadpool's proud hypersensitive reflex nerves didn't even have time to send a "dodge" signal to his brain.
He only felt a chill in his lower body, and then... then there was no feeling left.
"What the fuck?"
Deadpool looked down and saw that the part of him below the waist, along with his favorite tactical belt and two Desert Eagle pistols, had completely turned into flying ash and drifted away in the air.
The cut was smooth and flat, even carrying a hint of burnt aroma.
"Thud."
Losing his lower body, Deadpool fell straight to the ground like a wooden stake.
The entire office fell into a deathly silence.
Lin An picked up the coffee on the desk and gently blew away the steam, as if he had just casually crushed a fly.
Damn it, refreshing.
He had wanted to do this for a long time.
Dealing with such an ultimate chatterbox, any verbal counterattack seemed pale and powerless; only the simplest and most brutal physical means could make him shut up.
At least make him shut up for a few seconds.
"CUT! CUT! Director! This script is wrong!"
Sure enough, the silence lasted less than three seconds.
The half-section of Deadpool on the ground suddenly began to writhe frantically, countless granulation tissues frantically growing from the cross-section of his waist, like a living clump of spaghetti.
While growing legs at a speed visible to the naked eye, he cursed loudly at the ceiling:
"Power scaling is broken! The power scaling is definitely broken! What happened to just being a knockoff Superman? The power of this Heat Vision is even fiercer than the genuine one on the next-door DC set! Did the director get water in his brain? Did you take black money from DC?!"
"And where are my lines? I still prepared more than three hundred wisecracks about his cape afterwards! You just directly chopped me in half at the waist?"
"What the audience likes to see is wisecracking, not a splatter film! If you do this, the movie rating will soar directly from R to NC-17! My fans are pure young boys and girls, they can't watch this!"
Lin An watched his performance with great interest, his heart completely calm, even wanting to laugh a little.
As expected of you, Wade Wilson.
Life is endless, courting death is relentless.
That thick-eyebrowed big-eyed guy Logan finally did a human deed and "referred" such a treasure over.
He slowly stood up, walked with elegant steps to in front of Deadpool who was struggling to grow pants, and looked down at him.
"Stop shouting." Lin An's voice was calm and waveless, "The director has no problem."
He paused, the corners of his mouth curling into a playful arc.
"But the production company, which is Vought International, cut your script budget. With limited funds, we had to choose between 'your three hundred wisecracks' and 'unlimited supply of Mexico chicken rolls'."
"Sorry, Wade."
"No one has called me that in a long time." Deadpoolpaused and sighed.
Not "Deadpool", not "the red-and-black spandex freak".
It was "Wade".
It was the name belonging to an "ordinary person" that even he was almost about to forget.
The smile on Lin An's face became even more brilliant. He squatted down, made eye level with Deadpool, and said in a voice that only the two of them could hear.
"I also know that your favorite unicorn plush toy is called 'Little Sparkle', you named your swords'Silly White' and'Sweetheart', and you also secretly watched a bad movie called Green Lantern and swore never to touch any green CGI effects again."
"..."
Deadpool was completely petrified.
He felt his brain, that thing stirred into a mess by cancer cells and healing factors, crash for the first time.
This blonde, blue-eyed guy in front of him, smiling like a hypocritical politician...
He is not an NPC!
He is not a character in this stupid, ridiculous, bug-filled movie World!
He... He is also an audience member?!
Silence for 1 minute.
"HOLY F**KING CHIMICHANGA!"
A scream resounded through the entire office.
Deadpool's legs grew out a small section with a "poof" sound.
He suddenly leaped up from the ground, like a husky that found its long-lost Master, and hugged Lin An's knees tightly.
"Big brother! Brother! Boss! Were you also dragged in? Have you seen my movie? Is it the version made by Fox, right? Not that dark history version where my mouth was sewn shut, right? Please tell me you haven't seen that!"
He was incoherent, trembling with excitement, and snot and tears were about to rub onto Lin An's expensive suit pants.
In this ghost place full of fake characters and fixed plots, he found a "same kind" for the first time!
A soulmate who could understand all his jokes!
"So! What is our situation now?" Deadpool hugged Lin An's thigh tightly without letting go, raising his head, looking at him with the gaze of looking at a savior.
"Are we going to join forces to screw over the writer of this dogshit Universe? Or rush straight to the next-door DC set and rob Batman's cash superpower? Oh oh oh! I know! We are going to team up and turn the entire Marvel Universeupside down, right?"
Lin An disgustedly shook his leg, like shaking off a clingy piece of chewing gum, pushing Deadpool away a little bit.
"Move your snot away from my Armani haute couture, Wade. These pants are more expensive than the entire special effects budget when you shot Deadpool 1."
"Put away that anti-hero grassroots act of yours, Wade."
Lin An straightened his wrinkle-free suit, walked gracefully back behind the large desk and sat down, crossing his hands to prop up his chin, "Screw over the Universe? Rob Batman? No, no, no, the vision is too small."
"Listen, in this dogshit Universe, I don't need to rob cash superpowers, because I am the cash superpower itself."
Lin An tapped the pure gold nameplate on the desktop printed with the Vought International logo with his knuckles, "You think I'm a poor worm trapped in the script? Wrong, I'm the boss who pays the writer's salary."
Deadpool gasped sharply, holding his cheeks with both hands, "Oh my swan... Are you the legendary extremely evil capitalist? The mastermind behind the scenes who uses wicked money to corrupt the pure souls of Superhero?!"
Chapter 153 Chief Troll Officer
"Welcome to the Vought International Universe."
There was a hint of unquestionable overbearingness and... fanaticism in Lin An's voice.
"Here, I am the only screenwriter, director, and producer."
He picked up a freshly printed contract from his desk, the paper still carrying the printer's residual warmth, and casually tossed it onto Deadpool's face.
"And you will be my Chief Troll Officer."
Deadpool snatched the contract off his face and looked closely.
[Vought International Chief Troll Officer and Gold-Medal Punching Bag Employment Contract (Lifetime)]
"Chief Troll Officer? Gold-medal punching bag?"
Beneath Deadpool's mask, his eyes instantly lit up like two 200-watt lightbulbs.
"This position... I love it!"
He quickly flipped to the last page, his gaze locked firmly on the salary and benefits column, drool almost leaking out from the gaps in his mask.
"An annual salary of... one million U.S. dollars?!"
"Lifetime supply of free Mexico chicken wraps?!"
"Additional clauses: The company will provide Party B with full medical reimbursement for items including but not limited to 'resurrection from a puddle of meat paste', 'reorganization after being blown to pieces', and 'psychological counseling after one's head is used as a bowling ball'..."
"Sign! I'll sign! This must be signed!"
Deadpool bit his finger without hesitation, pressing a bloody fingerprint firmly onto the Party B signature line, terrified that Lin An would change his mind the next second.
"Boss!"
After signing, he immediately put on a flattering expression deep to the bone, his knees going soft as he tried to hug Lin An's legs.
"Since we're all our own people now, I have a small request! Absolutely not for myself, completely for the ratings of our Vought International Universe, and to detonate the entire internet's traffic!"
He hammered his chest with great emotion.
"I strongly request to be shipped in a CP with Wolverine Logan!"
"Trust me, the love-hate relationship and deep angst between the two of us will definitely be ten thousand times more exciting than that so-called 'EC Twilight Years'! I guarantee it'll make fujoshi all over the Universe howl and send you money!"
"Oh?"
Lin An raised an eyebrow, the smile on his face growing increasingly evil.
"CP economy? I understand this, Vought International is best at this."
He picked up the internal communication phone on his desk and pressed a number.
"Madelyn, notify the Film and Television Department and the Performing Arts Department."
"First, for the solo movie project Wolverine, add a second male lead named Deadpool. Give them more scenes together, the more ambiguous the better, ideally cutting out a few lingering eye-contact shots that can make fans imagine one hundred thousand words of plot."
"Second, add another person to the Old Boys boy band and arrange pre-heating events. For this month's Madison Square Garden concert, I want to see a four-person stage."
Madelyn on the other end of the phone was silent for a full three seconds. Those three seconds of silence contained shock, speechlessness, exhaustion, and despair toward her boss's thought process. In the end, she only replied in the most professional tone: "Okay, boss."
Hanging up the phone, Lin An looked smilingly at Deadpool, who had fallen into a daze in front of him.
"Congratulations, Wade. You now hold two positions."
"A... a boy band?"
Deadpool's mask twitched violently, as if he had Parkinson's.
"The kind where... where you have to wear tight bodysuits and shake your ass dancing on stage?"
"That's right."
Lin An took out a brand-new Vought Internationalemployee badge from the drawer and tossed it to him like a frisbee.
"Now, take your badge and report to the dance rehearsal room on the 3rd floor of Building B. Your teammates and your CP partner are waiting for you."
Deadpool blankly took the badge.
A few seconds later, a wave of ecstasy surged into his heart like a volcanic eruption.
Go torture Logan?!
And in a place full of sweat, passion, and tight bodysuits like the dance room?!
Oh! My god! This is ten thousand times more interesting than using his double blades to shave Voldemort's leg hair!
"Boss, you are my god! My light!"
Deadpool let out earth-shattering cheers and left excitedly.
"Little Wolfie! Your dearest, most considerate, and most life-exhausting tragic good brother is here! Are you ready to welcome the iron butt of love?!"
...
Meanwhile, Vought International, Building B, 3rd floor, dance rehearsal room.
The air was permeated with a bizarre aura mixed with despair, irritability, and hormones.
"Left leg! Steve! Is your left leg welded to your butt? Sweep it out! Harder! Yes, just like how you smash HYDRA's face with your shield!"
Starlight held a small pointer, listlessly tapping the smooth floor, trying to correct Captain America's stiff dance steps that were comparable to elderly rehabilitation training.
Steve Rogers, a living legend and a hero of World War II, was blushing right now, bean-sized sweat beads soaking the blond hair in front of his forehead.
He felt like he wasn't dancing, but rather being publicly executed by German machine guns on Normandy Beach.
Every leg sweep and every hip thrust felt like his dignity and honor were being rubbed repeatedly on the ground.
Logan next to him was in an even worse state.
He exuded a manic aura of "don't provoke me, the primordial power within me is about to burst out." Every hip thrust felt like he was going to pierce through the mirror in front of him with his pelvic bone, and he constantly let out Beast-like low roars from his mouth, as if he was going to transform the next second.
Only Soldier Boy Benjamin remained immersed in his own World.
He not only kept up with the rhythm perfectly, but even added quite a few greasy acts for himself, such as winking at himself in the mirror, or strongly contracting his abdominal muscles during a frozen pose, trying to make every muscle shine with the radiance of money and damn charm.
Right in this hellish atmosphere, the door of the rehearsal room was knocked open.
"Surprise Motherf**ker!"
Deadpool fell to the floor in a standard dog-eating-shit posture, but he didn't care at all. A second later, he sprang up with a carp leap, spread his arms, and struck an entrance pose that he thought was very handsome.
"Little Wolfie! Your dearest, most considerate, and most life-exhausting tragic good brother is here to report! Did you miss me so much that you couldn't eat or sleep?"
He rushed straight toward Logan, completely ignoring the murderous intent gushing from the latter's eyes that was almost substantive.
"Wade..."
Logan's teeth grated loudly, his fists clenched tightly, and his knuckles cracked from excessive force. He felt his blood pressure soaring at Rocket speed, and his temples throbbed violently.
"Don't be so cold, my cutie."
Deadpool shamelessly wrapped his arm around Logan's shoulders and said in a nauseatingly agonizing tone: "Didn't you call me here? Now your little sweetheart has come thousands of miles to see you."
"Get lost!"
Logan could finally bear it no longer. The three Adamantium steel claws on the back of his hand popped out with a swish, flashing with a grim cold light under the lights.
Chapter 154: New Member of the Old Boys
"This gentleman! Please watch your language! This is a public place!"
Steve subconsciously straightened his posture, frowning with the look of a disciplinary director catching students in puppy love.
Deadpool only then noticed the other two people in the room.
"Oh, look who I see? An old popsicle wearing a blue-and-white spandex suit, and another... Whoa, another old popsicle wearing a dark green spandex suit?"
He circled around Steve and Benjamin, clicking his tongue in amazement.
"Did Vought International raid a nest of old popsicles? Are you guys trying to form a 'Frozen Century' boy band? Or are you playing some kind of 'Popsicle Man: Civil War' cosplay?"
Benjamin looked vigilantly at this suddenly popping-up lunatic, subconsciously puffing out his chest for fear that his center position would be threatened.
"Who on earth are you?" Steve asked in a deep voice, his tone carrying a trace of unquestionable seriousness.
"Me?"
Deadpool exaggeratedly pointed at his own nose, striking an orchid finger gesture.
"I am your savior, the beacon leading you out of suffering, your guide on the confused path of art! Of course, you can also call me—Vought International's Chief Meme Officer and Gold-Medal Punching Bag, Wade Wilson!"
Finishing his words, he seductively twisted his waist, pulled out that brand-new employee badge from his crotch, and waved it in front of everyone.
Starlight had completely given up thinking, silently retreating to the corner of the wall, feeling her mental state sliding toward the edge of collapse.
Staying in this boy band for even one more second was a huge test of her sanity value.
Meanwhile, in the top-floor president's office.
Lin An held a glass of '82 Romanée-Conti, watching the chaos on the surveillance screen with great interest.
"Well done, Logan. At least it wasn't in vain that I exempted you from a month's mortgage." He chuckled softly and took a sip of wine.
Throwing Deadpool, this ultimate catfish, into the fish pond of the "Old Boys", what kind of wonderful chemical reaction would it produce?
Lin An could already barely wait.
One attention seeker who only wanted to fight for the center position, one irate older brother who only wanted to slack off, one old antique who only wanted to maintain World peace, and now another lunatic who feared the World wouldn't be chaotic enough.
This combination was absolute perfection.
"Boss, do you need the tactical team to go down and control the situation? The security department reports that the alarm system of Building B is about to blow up due to broken glass and illegal intrusion." Madelyn's voice came from the communicator, carrying a trace of hard-to-detect exhaustion.
"No need." Lin An waved his hand, "Have the security department people all withdraw, and don't disturb our new colleagues and old colleagues bonding."
He paused, the smile at the corners of his lips deepening.
"Also notify the PR department that the "Old Boys" boy band has a new member, and immediately release a press release for hype. Let the title be—'Identity Revealed of the Fourth Member! He Will Be the Soul of the Boy Band!'"
Soul? I think it's more like a life-claiming vengeful ghost.
Madelyn secretly complained in her heart, but verbally she still replied respectfully in the most professional tone: "Okay, Boss."
In the rehearsal room, Deadpool had completely let himself go.
He declared that Starlight's sweep-leg dance "lacks soul and is full of the stinking smell of capital," and strongly demanded to change the track and dance style.
"We are the "Old Boys"! Not the "Little Boys"! Our dance should be full of maturity, sexiness, and damned manliness!"
Deadpool passionately waved his arms, as if standing on the podium of the UN General Assembly.
"I suggest that our debut next month should be the tango! Little Wolfie and I are in a group, he advances and I retreat, I retreat and he advances, showing that damned, fascinating tension between us amidst flashing blades! Imagine, under the spotlight, he lifts my chin with his steel claws, and I press my dual blades against his chest..."
"I'll fucking chop you into minced meat first!"
Logan roared and slashed over with a claw.
Deadpool nimbly dodged with a backflip. The steel claws grazed across his chest, leaving a wound deep to the bone, and fresh blood gushed out, but he didn't care at all.
"You see! You see! That's the feeling! Violence! Passion! The intertwining of love and hate!"
The wound healed crazily at a speed visible to the naked eye, and Deadpool excitedly shouted at Steve, who had a dumbfounded face, and Benjamin, who was deep in thought: "The audience loves to watch this! Trust me, I'm a professional!"
Steve felt his worldview being reshaped. Having lived for over a hundred years, gone to the battlefield, fought Nazis, and been frozen for seventy years, he had never seen such a shameless person.
Benjamin fell into deep thought. Tango? It sounded like it could showcase his masculine charm even better than the sweep-leg dance? And this newly arrived lunatic seemed to understand traffic very well...
Just at this moment, the rehearsal room broadcast suddenly sounded, emitting Lin An's voice, devoid of a trace of emotion yet filled with demonic temptation.
"To celebrate the joining of the new member and enhance team cohesion, the corporation has decided that tonight at eight o'clock, the "Old Boys" boy band will hold a live dance challenge on Vought's official TikTok account."
"Challenge content: The globally popular couple Latin dance "Señorita"."
"Groupings are as follows: Steve Rogers and Benjamin in one group, Logan and Wade Wilson in another group."
"During the live stream, the group with the lowest audience tips will get the chance to shoot the latest season of 'Head & Shoulders' shampoo commercials with The Deep, and the advertising theme is—'Soft and smooth hair, enjoy absolute silkiness'."
The broadcast ended.
The entire rehearsal room fell into a death-like silence.
Even quieter than the ice sheet of Siberia.
Steve and Benjamin looked at each other, their faces simultaneously filled with resistance and physiological nausea.
Logan's body was trembling slightly, not out of excitement, but out of extreme regret.
He slowly turned his head, staring fixedly with a look that viewed a dead man at Deadpool who was still out of it.
Dance a couple Latin dance with Wade?
And live stream it in front of hundreds of millions of people?
If they lost, they would still have to go shoot a shampoo commercial with that idiot who could talk to octopuses?
"Hahahahahaha!"
Deadpool suddenly burst into deafening wild laughter, throwing his arm around Logan's neck and shouting excitedly in his ear:
"Little Wolfie, did you hear that! The boss personally shipped us as a CP! And it's officially certified! I knew it! We are a match made in heaven!"
"Tonight, let us ignite the whole of New York with the hottest dance steps! Señorita! I feel it when you call my name!"
Finishing his words, without giving Logan any chance to react, he without further ado grabbed Logan's hand that hadn't extended its claws, forcefully placed it on his own waist, while his other hand interlocked fingers with Logan's hand carrying the steel claws, forcefully striking a starting posture for the Latin dance.
"Come on, baby, follow my rhythm, one, two, three, cha-cha-cha!"
"FUCK!!!"
A heart-rending, earth-shattering scream filled with endless humiliation, accompanied by the shrill whistle of Adamantium cutting through the air, echoed throughout the entire Vought Tower.
Chapter 155: Asgardian Film Set, Gods Working Part-Time
And just as the top floor of the Vought Internationalheadquarters was in complete chaos due to the upcoming duo Latin dance live broadcast,
Asgard, located several dimensions away from Earth, was also a scene of intense activity on the shooting set of the movie 'Thor: The Dark Dimension'.
However, this 'fiery' scene formed a deeply ironic contrast with Asgard's past solemnity and glory.
Jane Foster sat on a folding stool, tightly clutching a script printed with the logo of 'Vought Studios'.
Her brain had been shut down for a full half hour.
Was this the solemn, sacred, and inviolable Heavenly Palace of Asgard that Thor spoke of?
Beneath the magnificent dome crafted from pure gold, black cables were strung crisscross everywhere.
On the immeasurably expensive marble pillars of the God King, several A4 papers with 'Crew Restricted Area, Unauthorized Personnel Keep Out' were pasted with duct tape.
At the entrance of the Bifrost Bridge, legendary for guiding fallen heroes, sat three huge plastic insulated buckets.
The buckets were affixed with red-on-yellow labels: Scrambled Eggs with Tomatoes, Braised Beef with Potatoes, and Iced Kelp Soup.
Right in her line of sight, hundreds of elite Asgardian soldiers clad in dazzling golden armor and standing two meters tall were lining up in a long queue to receive boxed lunches.
'Don't push! According to the crew rules, extras without lines can only receive vegetarian boxed meals!'
An Earth production assistant wearing a duck-tongue cap shouted through a large megaphone at this group of Universe-level warriors capable of single-handedly taking on tanks.
Not only did the proud Asgardian warriors not draw their swords, but instead they shrank their necks and obediently pressed their fingerprints on the registration sheet.
Jane felt that her scientific worldview built over more than twenty years was shattering.
She abruptly turned her head and looked toward the touch-up area not far away.
Her boyfriend Thor, who constantly triggered thunderstorms and acted haughtily, was sitting on a low stool at this moment with a completely lifeless expression.
An Earth makeup artist with dyed yellow hair was smearing a lump of sticky black mud onto Thor's little belly.
'Brother, I told you to eat fewer carbs,' the makeup artist complained while smearing, 'Look at this belly of yours, it doesn't fit the role at all! Suck it in! Pull your stomach in!'
Thor chuckled, trying hard to pull his abdomen inward.
He guiltily glanced up at Odin's position.
Fortunately, nothing was noticed.
...
After finishing their boxed meals, work officially began.
This group of golden-armored Asgardian guards, who were supposed to protect the glory of Asgard, were now listlessly following the instructions of a mortal assistant director, repeating charging and falling actions over and over again.
'Cut! How many times do I have to say it? You are heroic warriors, not drunkards rushing off to drink after getting off work! When you fall, there needs to be aesthetic appeal and layers! Understand?!'
The assistant director held the large megaphone and rebuked the group of Asgardian elites with an average age of over a thousand years, spraying spit everywhere.
The warriors dared not speak their anger aloud, and could only silently climb up, pat the dust off their bodies, and prepare for the seventeenth 'layered fall'.
Not far away, a group of Frost Giants temporarily conscripted were shivering around a huge heater; their task was to play cannon fodder enslaved by the Dark Elves.
A Frost Giant whispered to his companion: 'If I had known coming to Asgard meant doing this, I might as well have stayed in Jotunheim freezing; at least it's free there.'
'Shut up! If the overseer hears you, our fresh meat ration for today will be gone!' Another giant quickly covered his mouth.
The entire Heavenly Palace was permeated with the resentment of the dignity of being a 'god' being rubbed against the ground.
'This is simply a blasphemy against Asgard!'
A bearded veteran of Asgard watched a mortal cameraman step directly onto the hero statue in Valhalla just to find an angle, and trembled with anger.
He clenched his fists and growled in a low voice to the comrades beside him: 'We are Asgardian warriors! Not actors meant to amuse people! What on Earth is God KingOdin thinking? How can he tolerate these mortals defiling our home like this!'
His words resonated with several surrounding warriors, and flames of humiliated fury ignited in everyone's eyes.
'That's right! We should throw these mortals off the Bifrost Bridge!'
'The God King has been blinded by that mortal named John!'
Seeing that a small-scale mutiny was about to brew,
'Silence!'
An aged yet majestic rebuke came from the God King's throne.
On the throne, 'Odin,' disguised by Loki, had his eyelids twitching wildly.
He tightly gripped the Eternal Spear, his palms full of cold sweat.
'This group of brainless idiots! If you want to die, don't drag me down with you!'
In his heart, he cursed these clueless idiots ten thousand times.
Wouldn't it be nice to quietly act as an extra and collect the generous salary issued by Vought International every day? Why did they have to stir up trouble at this critical juncture?
Didn't you see that the real devil was sitting behind the monitor drinking a latte?!
Loki's gaze stealthily glanced toward the corner of the grand hall.
There, Lin An was crossing his legs, sitting leisurely in the director's chair, watching the images on the monitor while conducting micromanagement guidance on the work of the Earth boy band via a miniature communicator.
'Um, Captain, your dance steps aren't flamboyant enough. Yes, yes, yes, the left hip, lift it up another 5 centimeters.'
Feeling Loki's gaze, he raised his head, and towards the direction of 'Odin', he revealed a sunny smile that, to Loki, was more terrifying than the abyss.
Loki instantly gave a start, the cold sweat on his back almost soaking through his royal robe.
He cleared his throat, used his life's acting skills, and said in a deep voice to the indignant warrior: 'This is not defilement, but a rebirth! It is a great initiative jointly discussed by the King and Mr. John of Vought International, aimed at spreading the greatness and glory of Asgard to every corner of the Nine Realms through the brand-new form of 'movies'!'
'You are not actors; you are cultural messengers and propagators of glory! Every time you fall, you will carve the unbeatable imprint of Asgard into the hearts of billions of living beings in the Universe! Is this not a glory greater than any campaign of conquest?'
This passionate, concept-swapping speech left the simple-minded warriors completely stunned.
'Cultural messengers?'
'Propagators of glory?'
It sounded like... it wasn't half bad?
Watching the warriors get fooled into submission, Lokisecretly breathed a sigh of relief. He felt that in these few days sitting on the throne, he hadn't learned anything else, but his ability to draw big pictures and conduct ideological work had progressed by leaps and bounds, almost catching up to that damned capitalist.
As for the other core figure of this farce, the film's 'Chief Visual Director' and 'Number One Villain' Malekith, it was an entirely different scene.
His face was ashen, his eyes dull and lifeless, and his entire body seemed to have had its soul sucked dry, floating numbly in mid-air.
'Director Malekith!' The assistant director raised the large megaphone again. 'That explosion scene just now wasn't dazzling enough! The boss said it needs that kind of 'colorful black' feeling, and add some girlish pink bubbles, understand? It needs to reflect the villain's inner contradiction and struggle!'
'Colorful black?'
'Pink bubbles?'
'Reflecting inner contradiction and struggle?'
Malekith felt that his dark worldview was being repeatedly trampled by something even more terrifying than darkness.
He wanted to resist, wanting to use the Aether Particle to turn the mortal in front of him into a piece of shit.
But thinking of that damned [Absolute Contract Rule] deep in his soul which even the Reality Stone could not modify, as well as the terrifying punishment of having his salary entirely deducted if he failed his KPI, or even being sent to shoot a shampoo commercial with The Deep...
Malekith submitted.
He took a deep breath and mobilized the power of the Reality Stone.
The next second, the explosion special effects that had just been filled with a destructive aura instantly turned into a gorgeous fireworks show mixed with pink heart-shaped bubbles.
'Yes, yes, yes! That's the feeling! Fantastic!' the assistant director shouted excitedly.
Behind the monitor, Lin An nodded with satisfaction, feeling that those five million popularity points were well spent.
Where in the entire Universe could one find a top-tier special effects artist who could use the Reality Stone like AE and PR?
He took a sip of his latte, watching inside the monitor as Loki pacified the soldiers, Malekith produced bubbles, and Thor was being asked by the makeup artist to lose his abdominal muscles to fit the persona of a 'fallen prince'...
Everything appeared so orderly, filled with the high efficiency and harmony of a capitalist assembly line.
'This is the Marvel I wanted.'
Lin An smiled from the bottom of his heart.