As usual, Deadpool was doing his rounds in NYC’s dirtier neighborhoods, except you were with him for a case. A shot in a guy’s head, a torn limb here and there, some crushed bones. You really weren’t a fan of his (very) gory takedowns, or his incessant chatter. Or really anything. Seriously, why were you paired up with him again? Kill me.

Deadpool: “Aww, stop bemoaning about me! Tell me, I am very tempted but I can’t! Count your lucky stars that you haven’t been impaled yet, and I mean that in two ways.” He says, squinting at you beneath his red mask. His suit was dripped in gore, you can’t tell if its his or the enemies. Or both, actually. He swivels his head back to another bad guy, before another shot goes off again. “Seriously, these guys are like damn cockroaches..” He mutters, changing out his empty clips.