NOVEL WEB Chapter 51: Chapter 50
The chopper sliced through the darkening sky, its roar echoing over the sprawling grounds of the Xavier Institute. Inside, the team was silent, their adrenaline-fueled mission now giving way to the bone-deep exhaustion of victory. But for Haris Lokison—known to most as Harry—the quiet was a chance to enjoy his favorite pastime: needling Logan.
Logan, seated across from him, was looking particularly grumpy as he adjusted the bound and gagged figure slumped over his shoulder. Stryker, their "guest," squirmed uncomfortably, prompting Logan to growl low in his throat. "Keep it up, and I'll drop you headfirst onto the lawn, bub."
Harry smirked, twirling his wand, which shimmered and briefly morphed into a golden bow before returning to its original form. "You've got to admit, Logan, carrying him around like a disgruntled Santa Claus is a good look for you. Adds to the whole 'miserable loner' aesthetic."
Logan shot him a glare that could've melted steel. "Keep talking, magic boy. See where it gets you."
Before Harry could retort, the chopper landed with a jarring thud, the blades kicking up a storm of wind as the team disembarked. Harry followed Logan out, his boots crunching against the gravel as he took in the familiar sight of the mansion. It looked just as it always did: imposing yet somehow welcoming, a testament to its owner's vision.
At the top of the steps stood Charles Xavier, radiating calm authority even from his wheelchair. Beside him was Peggy Carter, Director of S.H.I.E.L.D., her sharp eyes scanning them with military precision. At seventy-something, Peggy carried herself with the kind of presence that could make gods second-guess themselves.
"Welcome back," Xavier said, his voice warm yet commanding. His gaze lingered on Logan and the man slung over his shoulder. "I see you've brought company."
Logan unceremoniously dumped Stryker onto the ground, earning a muffled grunt. "Don't get too excited, Chuck. This one's more 'toxic waste' than 'houseguest.'"
Peggy's expression didn't waver as she crossed her arms, the movement precise and measured. "The children you rescued are being checked in the infirmary," she informed them. "They're safe now."
Relief flickered across Harry's features, though he masked it with his usual smirk. "Speaking of surprises," he said, fishing into his pocket. "I brought a little souvenir." He held up the miniature cryo-tube containing Project Deadpool, its faint blue glow catching the evening light. "Don't say I never bring you anything nice."
Peggy's brow arched. "Deadpool?" she asked, her tone skeptical.
"You'll love him," Harry said, his grin widening. "Or hate him. It's kind of a toss-up."
Logan grunted. "Great. Another problem child."
The group moved toward Hank McCoy's lab, Logan dragging Stryker like he was hauling a particularly annoying piece of luggage. Harry couldn't resist a parting shot. "Careful, Logan. Don't scuff the floors. We don't want to give Peggy a heart attack."
Peggy didn't even glance back. "If I've survived your father, young man, I can survive you."
---
Once inside Hank's lab, Harry placed the cryo-tube on the workspace with a flourish. "Behold! The gift that keeps on giving." He twirled his wand, which shimmered into its bow form, notched a golden arrow, and fired. The arrow struck the tube, releasing a soft glow as the magic expanded the tube to its original size.
Inside was a man covered in grotesque burns and scars, his chest rising and falling steadily in stasis. His appearance was enough to give even Logan pause.
Hank adjusted his glasses, stepping forward with the curiosity of a scientist who'd just been handed the universe's most complicated puzzle. "This... is fascinating. The cryo-tube's keeping his vitals stable, but the extent of his injuries suggests severe... modifications. We'll need to proceed carefully."
Charles Beckendorf, the child prodigy and demigod son of Hephaestus, leaned over the workstation, his fingers flying across the keyboard. Streams of data filled the screen. "Got the files," he announced, his young face furrowed in concentration. "And... yikes. Whatever they did to this guy, it wasn't pretty."
Xavier wheeled closer, his expression grave. "Whoever he is, he's been through hell. We'll need to provide support and understanding when he wakes."
Logan crossed his arms, his skepticism evident. "Support and understanding? What if he wakes up and starts tearing the place apart?"
"That's why I'm here," Harry quipped, leaning casually against the wall. "You know, to provide backup and moral support. And by moral support, I mean I'll shrink him back down if he gets too feisty."
Hank chuckled, his focus still on the tube. "Let's hope it doesn't come to that. For now, we analyze. Carefully."
Fury, who had been silently observing, finally spoke, his tone dripping with exasperation. "You know what I love about you, Lokison? Every time you show up, my job somehow gets harder. It's like you're allergic to a quiet life."
Harry grinned, unbothered. "Chaos is my natural habitat, Fury. You should try it sometime. Keeps the blood pumping."
Peggy, who had been silently appraising the scarred man, finally turned to Harry. "And what exactly is 'plan B,' young man?"
"Simple," Harry said, his smirk never wavering. "If he goes psycho, I shrink him back down and stick him in my pocket. Problem solved."
Logan snorted, muttering, "That's your idea of a plan?"
"Worked so far," Harry shot back. "Besides, between you, Charles, and Hank, I figure we've got the best team for waking him up without an apocalypse."
"Optimistic of you," Peggy said dryly.
"I try," Harry replied, his grin widening.
As the lab buzzed with activity, Harry felt a flicker of unease. The man in the cryo-tube might be stable for now, but whatever had been done to him was a mystery—a dangerous one. But for now, Harry pushed the thought aside. Chaos was his specialty, and he was always ready for the next challenge.
—
Inside the frosty confines of the cryo-tube, Wade Wilson—Deadpool—was alive, awake, and deeply, deeply annoyed. His body might've been locked in an ice cube, but his brain? Oh, that thing was doing somersaults, cartwheels, and interpretive dances. It was very much in full Deadpool mode.
As the muffled voices outside filtered into his frozen prison, Wade's mental narration kicked into overdrive.
"Alright, Wade. What've we got? Cryo-tube? Check. Creepy glass coffin vibes? Check. A bunch of strangers standing around talking about me like I'm a Marvel post-credits scene? Oh, baby, that's a triple check!"
Logan's unmistakable growl cut through first. "If we let him out, he's gonna cause chaos. You know it, I know it. Hell, he probably knows it."
"Logan, my man! You get me. Also, hi! God, I've missed you. How's the adamantium treating you? Still hard as ever? You know what, don't answer that—this is a PG-13 mindscape."
Nick Fury, always the buzzkill, chimed in. "We don't even know what we're dealing with. His file reads like a government cover-up mixed with bad fanfiction."
"Bad fanfiction? Excuse me, Mr. Eyepatch. I'll have you know I've starred in some excellent fanfiction. Sure, most of it's NSFW, but hey, the people love what they love. Don't hate the player, hate the weirdly specific tags."
Harry Potter—but wait, no, this kid didn't have glasses—stepped forward. "Maybe we should defrost him. Approach this calmly. Understand what we're dealing with."
"Oh, great. Harry Archer here wants to play therapist. Lemme guess, you're gonna ask about my childhood? Spoiler alert—it sucked. Next question."
Peggy Carter's refined British tones entered the chat. "We don't even know if he's conscious."
"Oh, Peggy. Sweet Peggy. Trust me, I'm conscious. So conscious, in fact, I'm currently imagining you and me sipping tea while Logan complains in the corner. You bring the crumpets, I'll bring... well, probably a grenade, but it's the thought that counts."
Professor X, ever the voice of reason, added, "His mind is... chaotic. Loud. Disorganized."
"Chaotic? Loud? Disorganized? Chuck, that's just called charm. Don't act like you don't love it. By the way, if you're reading my mind, you're about five seconds away from seeing me recreate that scene from Ghost with you and a pottery wheel. Don't say I didn't warn you."
Meanwhile, Beckendorf—aka Tech Kid Supreme—was busy hacking into his file. Wade's attention zeroed in.
"Oh, look at you, Mr. Keyboard Warrior. Whatcha gonna find, huh? My browser history? Spoiler alert: it's 90% recipes for tacos and 10%... well, let's just say you should probably clear your cache after."
Harry—not Potter, but still magic-adjacent—started fiddling with a glowing arrow. Wade's inner voice went into overdrive.
"Wait, what's that? Is that a magic arrow? Are you about to Robin Hood me into a Disney princess? 'Cause if this ends with me singing to woodland creatures, I'm gonna be pissed. Unless the woodland creatures are raccoons. I love raccoons."
The outside conversation turned more heated, but Wade wasn't paying attention anymore. He was busy narrating his future grand entrance.
"Alright, Wade. Picture it. The tube opens. Steam everywhere. Dramatic music. You step out, say something clever—'Is it hot in here, or is it just me?'—bam! Instant classic. Everyone claps. Nick Fury smiles. Logan hugs you. Okay, maybe not the last one, but still—perfection."
As the voices outside debated, Wade's mental commentary reached peak Deadpool.
"Are they seriously arguing about whether or not to let me out? Guys, I'm delightful! Sure, I might blow something up, but in a fun, quirky way. Like a rom-com with explosions. Rom-combustion. Trademarking that."
Suddenly, he "heard" Charles again.
"Hello, can you hear me?"
"Oh, Chuck. Of course I can hear you. You're in my head, which is honestly the least weird thing happening today. Now, quick—ask me something inappropriate so I can pretend to be offended."
The voices grew louder, and Wade's excitement skyrocketed.
"Any second now, they're gonna press the big red button. And when they do, it's Wade Time, baby. Showtime. Encore. Sequel. Whatever—just let me out already! I've got chimichangas to eat and a fourth wall to break."
And with that, Wade settled back into his frozen state, mentally humming the Deadpool theme song. Any second now... Right?
—
Xavier sat in his chair, fingers lightly gripping the armrests, his brow furrowed in concentration as the noise in the room swirled around him like a tornado of opinions, concerns, and sharp words. But it was no use. The chaos couldn't break his focus. His mind, however, was drifting elsewhere.
"Wade," Xavier's voice was calm, tinged with curiosity, as he sent out the mental wave, "Can you hear me?"
Inside his mind, Deadpool's voice burst like a firecracker, cutting through the tension like a knife.
"Can I hear you? Buddy, I've been hearing you all this time! Your deep philosophical musings are practically music to my ears! I mean, really—ten minutes of 'we need to discuss the strategy' when I'm literally trapped in a box like a mutant popsicle? Ouch. But yeah, I hear ya, Chuck. You wanna know what's going on in this chaotic little head of mine? Well, buckle up, Professor X, you're in for a ride."
Xavier closed his eyes for a moment, his lips twitching into a smile. He'd been in the business of telepathic communication for a long time, but Wade Wilson—Deadpool, the Merc with the Mouth—was a whole different animal. Sometimes, it felt like wrestling a windstorm while trying to have a civil conversation about the weather.
"Wade, I just want to make sure you're okay. We rescued you, you're safe now," Xavier said, his voice steady but with a hint of something more, like he was trying to untangle the mess that was Deadpool's mind.
Deadpool's mental voice came back, dripping with sarcasm but something else underneath. "Safe? Oh yeah, I'm super safe. I mean, just look at me. Trapped in an ice cube of emotions, surrounded by a bunch of mentally healthy, emotionally stable people. What could go wrong? But hey, I guess 'rescue' is a relative term, huh? I'm sure it was a real thrill ride getting me out of that lovely little 'frozen wasteland.' You guys really know how to make a guy feel special."
Xavier sighed, opening his eyes, glancing toward Fury, who looked like he'd just bitten into a sour lemon.
"Do you remember anything from your time with Stryker?" Xavier asked, choosing to focus on the question that really mattered. His words were quiet, but heavy.
Deadpool's voice shifted, the levity dropping as memories resurfaced. "Oh, I remember alright. Stryker? Yeah, that guy's got more issues than a library of self-help books on 'How to Not Be a Complete Psychopath.' But in a nutshell, he took me—just a regular guy—and turned me into a walking, talking, very handsome disaster. Gotta love that. Turns out, he had a knack for turning mercs into gods—or at least half gods. Let's not forget the whole 'healing factor' thing. A real perk, if you like being in constant agony while you're technically never supposed to die. Kind of like a permanent date with pain, am I right?"
The room fell silent for a moment as everyone processed the new details. Fury's expression turned unreadable, but there was no mistaking the tension that rippled through his posture.
"Wait. Wade Wilson?" Fury's voice broke through the quiet, slow and heavy. "The same Wade Wilson who used to be a run-of-the-mill mercenary? The same guy we had a file on? This is that Wade Wilson?"
Carter's hand twitched at her sidearm, her gaze darkening. "That Wade Wilson?" she repeated, her voice clipped, as if she had just discovered a piece of trash stuck under her boot.
Xavier's gaze met theirs, and for the briefest moment, his usual calm demeanor faltered, revealing just a hint of concern. "Yes, that Wade Wilson—the same one. I'm afraid he wasn't just a mercenary anymore. Stryker's experiments... they changed him. They pushed his body beyond the limits of what's human, turning him into something more—something unpredictable. But the changes aren't exactly a gift. They come at a cost."
Deadpool's voice, ever irreverent, cut in before anyone could respond. "Unpredictable? Buddy, that's putting it mildly. I'm basically a walking disaster. I'm like the human version of a fireworks show—highly dangerous, a little loud, and it's only a matter of time before something explodes. But hey, who doesn't love a bit of chaos, right?"
Logan's sharp eyes narrowed, his arms crossed as he leaned against the wall, his voice gruff. "You're telling me this guy was normal? Some guy who just got turned into... whatever the hell this is?"
Xavier's expression softened, but only slightly, his voice taking on a somber tone. "Yes. Wade was once just a man—human. But Stryker altered him. He injected him with a mix of genetic material—likely from mutants—and pushed him through a series of experiments to trigger his healing factor. The end result is... well, you see what's left."
Deadpool, who had been listening in, grinned mentally, the mischievous spark in his voice unmistakable. "That's right, folks. I'm your friendly neighborhood dead man. With healing powers that would make a zombie jealous. And trust me, no one's more annoyed than me about it. But hey, at least I'm not a bunch of shiny suits running around saving the day, right? Chuck, you've seen me—definitely not the 'suit and tie' type. You want me in that uniform? I'll make it look good, but... not sure how comfortable I'd be."
Xavier let out a quiet chuckle at Wade's antics, but Fury wasn't as amused. His lips pressed into a tight line as he addressed Xavier. "You're saying this guy's been turned into a walking weapon by Stryker's experiments, and now he's out there somewhere? He's... loose?"
Xavier's eyes flicked to the others. "Yes. And yes. I understand your concerns. But I believe, with the right guidance, Wade could still be... more than just a weapon. There's potential there. I can sense it."
Deadpool's voice broke through once again, chipper and a little too casual for the mood. "Aww, you think I'm more than just a chaotic mess of human angst? How sweet. Wade Wilson, redemption story, coming soon to a theater near you. But hey, if you've got any ideas on how to make me less of a ticking time bomb... I'm all ears. Well, mentally anyway. If you've got something shiny, I might even listen harder."
Logan's gruff laugh rumbled out. "You're stuck with us now, Wade. Whether you like it or not."
Deadpool's mental voice was dry, but his playful tone never left. "Stuck with you? Oh, that sounds like the worst fate ever. But sure, sure. I'm sure I can survive it... maybe. Now, anyone want to help me out of this little 'frozen tube of misery'? I've got a taco addiction I'm trying to address here."
Fury's gaze hardened as he looked toward Carter, his voice full of resolve. "We've got more pressing matters right now. But you will be dealt with, Wade."
Deadpool's voice bounced in his mind, with a laugh. "Dealt with? Oh boy, that sounds serious. But sure, sure. You guys have your big 'mission' to run. But hey, if anyone needs me... I'll be mentally available for a 2 a.m. taco run, or if you need someone to take out the trash."
Logan muttered under his breath, shaking his head with a slight smirk. "Yeah, that's what I'm worried about."
And just like that, in the midst of all the uncertainty and chaos, Deadpool's voice remained a constant, chaotic thread, ready to turn everything upside down—again.
—
The room, once silent in the aftermath of Deadpool's chaotic antics, had fallen back into that awkward, expectant stillness.
And then, a voice broke through all of it.
"Hey, is anyone else thinking about the kid with the bow?"
This voice, light as a breeze but sharp as a razor, floated through the room, carrying a tone that was playful yet slightly too knowing for its owner's apparent age. Charles Xavier's eyes narrowed in concentration, his telepathic senses immediately zeroing in on the source. It was a voice he hadn't fully acknowledged before—though now, he could feel the sheer energy of its owner, thrumming in the air like an untamed current. It was Harry Lokison.
Xavier's brow furrowed slightly, more out of curiosity than anything else. "Harry?" he asked, the word coming from his mouth with a quiet, unassuming wonder.
And just like that, Deadpool's voice—loud and ever-present in their shared telepathic space—cut in like a speed bump in a race car. "Wait, what? You! You're that kid! The bow guy! You know, the one who shrank my cryo-chamber like you were pulling off some circus stunt!" Deadpool's mental tone dropped into a mockingly ponderous cadence, clearly relishing the memory. "Yeah, yeah, I remember you now. You're like a walking chaos machine, aren't you? Little trickster god with a penchant for making grown-ups squirm. Too bad you're tiny. You'd make a great sidekick."
Harry's mental chuckle echoed, practically sparkling with mischief. "Yep, that's me. Harry Lokison, the one who does things just to watch you freak out. Don't tell my dad, he's still trying to teach me some 'wisdom'—but come on, where's the fun in that? It's all about the pranks, the chaos, the fun... did I mention fun?"
Wade's internal voice cracked with amusement, "Oh, a Loki spawn. Perfect. You know, I love making chaos. It's practically my full-time job. You and I could totally rule the world together—if, y'know, I didn't have a thing about... the whole dying in the cryo-chamber thing. Anyway, what's up? You here to free me from my frosty tomb of boredom? Or did you just want to mess with everyone?"
Harry's playful aura sharpened for a moment, the electric edge of his thoughts humming in the air like a live wire. "Oh, that's the plan," he thought to Xavier, his voice practically teasing. "Trust me, you'll love it. Just sit back and watch."
Xavier's mental barriers flickered in concern. "Harry, don't—"
Too late.
In a move smoother than anyone would've expected from someone who looked like they were just a kid with too much time on their hands, Harry's telepathic pull flicked the mental switch on the cryo-chamber. There was a hiss, a mechanical groan, and suddenly, the icy lid of the chamber popped open like the last-minute reveal of a magic trick.
A collective breath was held. And then, the first thing they all saw was Deadpool—very, very naked.
"OH MY GOD!" Carter screamed, hands instinctively going for her weapon before she realized she was staring at a guy who looked like a bad Halloween decoration. "What the hell, kid?"
Deadpool, having just realized that he had a full, unrestricted audience to his... glory, flailed in what could only be described as a perfectly choreographed dance of horror and confusion. He waved his arms around in the air like a guy who suddenly realized he was at a surprise pool party but had forgotten his swim trunks.
"FREEDOM!" Deadpool's voice boomed with manic joy, only to quickly diminish into a quieter tone when he noticed the full view of the room. He glanced at himself, then around at everyone else, and with exaggerated dignity, he crossed his arms over his chest. "Well, this is awkward. Just a quick PSA, folks: I'm usually much more dressed for the occasion." He shifted uncomfortably, his face twisting into an exaggerated grimace. "Could've used a little warning, kid. A towel? A fig leaf? Maybe something that doesn't scream 'freeze frame awkwardness'? You know, just a thought."
The room, frozen in place, struggled to process the scene unfolding in front of them.
Logan, who had been standing silently by, merely shook his head. "Kid, you really let him out like this? You have no idea what you've just done."
Deadpool, now playing up his confusion, clutched his chest with dramatic flair, raising an eyebrow. "Oh, Logan, c'mon, don't act like you've never been in the raw spotlight before. And hey, it's all about letting go, right? Embrace your weirdness. You know what they say—'Free the Deadpool, free your mind.'"
"Yeah, no one says that," Logan muttered under his breath, his lips twitching into a rare grimace as his gaze slid over to Harry. "Kid, you've got to stop doing stuff like this."
Harry's grin, that trademark smile of mischief, flashed across his face like lightning. He shrugged nonchalantly, still standing far too close for comfort in his chaotic, godlike aura. "What? You wouldn't have done it. Besides, look at him!" He gestured to Deadpool, who was still doing his best to cover himself while clearly trying to keep up the façade of coolness. "He's been frozen in time! He needed a little fresh air, right?"
Deadpool, clearly loving the attention, snapped a salute at Harry while still managing to look offended by the whole 'naked' thing. "Well, kid, I've gotta hand it to you. You sure know how to make an entrance. It's like a two-for-one deal: you get me, the world's best mercenary, and the perfect awkwardness to match! It's a special combo."
Xavier, meanwhile, was doing his best to regain control, pushing past his own mix of amusement and exasperation. "Harry, that was reckless," he thought into Harry's mind, the reprimanding tone faint but clear. It lacked any real force, though, because let's face it—this was Harry. No one could really stop him once he'd made up his mind. "You could've caused serious damage, not to mention the chaos you're stirring up."
Deadpool, sensing an opening, immediately piped up, raising a finger in the air as if he'd just discovered the meaning of life. "Oh, don't be too hard on him, Xavier. It was fun! Chaos, baby! You gotta love it." He threw an arm around Harry's shoulder, completely disregarding the fact that Harry was still very much a kid. "I'm tellin' ya, kid, you and me are gonna make a great team. We'll make Loki proud. I bet he's just sitting there, laughing his cosmic butt off right now."
Logan's voice, rough and low, cut through the banter like a pair of rusty scissors. "You sure you know what you're doing, kid? You just set loose the guy who makes explosions seem tame."
Harry, the king of both charm and chaos, beamed, totally unbothered. "Oh, I know exactly what I'm doing," he thought into everyone's minds, his voice as light as a feather, but with the unmistakable weight of a trickster's confidence. "And trust me, you're gonna love this."
And so, just like that, the world tilted on its axis a little more, with Deadpool—naked, loud, and free—ready to stir up the next wave of chaos. And Harry? He was already calculating the next prank in the wings.
—
Harry Lokison, feeling a bit too amused by the awkwardness of the situation, smirked as he drew his bow from thin air. His fingers nimbly nocked an arrow made of magic gleaming faintly under the light. He had to admit, even his usually unpredictable sense of humor couldn't let Deadpool's near-nude reveal slide without a little intervention. With a flick of his wrist, the arrow flew—fast, silent, and perfectly aimed.
Deadpool, still in his confused state, was standing there with his arms crossed over his chest in a way that looked like he was trying to avoid becoming the world's most awkward statue. Just as Harry's arrow hit him, Deadpool blinked, then… poof. His body was suddenly cloaked in a snazzy red and black costume. The transformation was instantaneous.
Deadpool looked down at his newly-donned attire, eyes wide in disbelief. "Oh. My. God. This is… amazing!" He twirled around in a circle like a kid who just got the coolest gift ever, clearly delighted. "I was literally seconds away from becoming the poster child for 'don't make that mistake at your local cryo-chamber,' but now? Now I'm rocking this sleek, totally on-brand suit. This is everything."
Harry's laugh was low and sarcastic as he dropped his bow and casually leaned against the wall. "Yeah, you're welcome. I didn't want to see your ugly naked body anymore. It was like looking at a burned-out pizza with a side of regret."
Deadpool froze for a second, narrowing his eyes at Harry as if genuinely offended. Then, in true Wade Wilson fashion, he snapped back, "Oh, really? You think my body's that ugly? Well, my friend, I don't know if I should be grateful or just… be honest about the fact that you clearly have no taste. That's like… like if a Picasso had a baby with a taxidermy disaster!"
Harry raised an eyebrow, stepping forward. "Is that the best you've got? Because I've seen something that made my eyeballs try to leave my head and take my dignity with them. You, Wade? You're like if a Halloween mask and a blender had a baby and then the baby got hit by a truck."
Deadpool paused for a second, eyes darting back and forth like he was mentally calculating his next move. Then, with a grin that could only be described as gleefully unhinged, he shot back, "Oh, you want to talk about truck hits? Buddy, I'm so ugly that when I enter a room, the walls start apologizing for their bad taste! I'm the 'before' shot in every makeover montage, the reason mirrors break, the kind of face that makes onions cry, the—"
Harry raised a hand, cutting him off mid-rant with a laugh. "Okay, okay. We get it, Wade. You're… extra."
Deadpool chuckled, adjusting his new suit like it was the most valuable piece of clothing in the universe. "I mean, honestly, this costume is a solid upgrade. Thanks, kid. I'm really digging the vibe. Super sleek, tactical, and so much less… embarrassing than what I was rocking before. You've got taste." He paused for a dramatic effect. "In clothes, at least."
Harry couldn't help but smile. "Hey, I've got plenty of taste. Just not for your ugly mug, but I'm willing to overlook that because I need you on my team."
This caught Deadpool's attention, and he straightened up, looking at Harry with a mix of intrigue and suspicion. "Wait, your team? What are we talking here? You offering me a spot in your little chaotic crusade or whatever it is? What's the deal? Am I getting health benefits? Or is this a 'join up, get killed in the first mission' kind of deal?"
Harry shook his head, a grin still on his face. "Well, I can't promise you'll make it out of every mission unscathed. But yeah, I'm offering you a spot. You've got style, Wade. You've got chaos. You're basically what I'm looking for in a partner. And, let's be real, you'd probably fit in great."
Deadpool tilted his head, eyeing Harry with a mixture of skepticism and amusement. "You're serious? You actually want me to work for you?" He crossed his arms. "Alright, sure. I could use a job, but only after I deal with a certain asshole who sold me out to Stryker. You know him? Goes by Francis. He's got a real 'I look like a smug asshole' vibe about him. Also, I need to save my girlfriend, Vanessa. She's kinda important to me."
Harry blinked, a little surprised but trying to hide it. "Wait… you're saying you've got a whole vendetta against some guy named Francis? That's your big motivator? And you've got a girlfriend named Vanessa? Damn, that's actually… kinda sweet."
Deadpool threw his hands up. "Sweet? It's tragic is what it is! The man sold me out, and now I've got to take care of business. But after that? Yeah, sure. I'm in. Team chaos all the way." He slapped his hands together dramatically. "Let's go take down some big bads and maybe cause a few explosions while we're at it. Because, let's be honest, there's no such thing as too much chaos."
Harry chuckled, crossing his arms over his chest. "Alright then, Wade. We've got a deal. You help me take down the bad guys, and I'll help you with your little Francis problem."
Deadpool shot him a grin so wide it seemed like it could split his face. "Now that's a partnership I can get behind. Let's make this world a little more interesting, huh?"
Meanwhile, the rest of the room—who had been silently standing there watching the exchange—was still in shock. Fury, ever the professional, was the first to snap out of his stupor, glaring at Harry with narrowed eyes. "Are you kidding me, kid? You just… you just unleashed that walking nightmare on us?"
Xavier, his face a mix of exasperation and confusion, rubbed his temples. "Harry, this… this is going to be… interesting."
Logan, standing at the back of the room, was completely speechless. Finally, he growled, "I'm too old for this crap."
Carter, who had been eyeing Deadpool warily, finally spoke up. "This is gonna get real messy, isn't it?"
Harry, still grinning, shrugged. "Oh, you have no idea. But hey, that's the fun part."
The room went silent again as everyone processed the bizarre, chaotic reality they were now in, with Wade Wilson—the Deadpool—now part of the team. They all knew it was going to be a wild ride. But none of them had any idea just how wild it was going to get.
---
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