Too many whispering, chattering voices flooded Wade's brain at once. Having never heard so many people making a racket, he clutched his head and howled in agony.
He kept slapping his own head, shouting, "Who are you? I'm Wade!"
"Yes, of course you're Wade, but we're all Deadpool."
"Ryan Avocado" nodded, then swept a hand through the air. "We're all Deadpool, but Deadpool isn't necessarily Wade."
All the Deadpools burst out laughing. Quite a few people-and animals, too, of course-pulled off their masks. Most of their faces were hideously disfigured, looking at least severely burned at first glance.
"I'm not Wade, but I'm Deadpool."
Wade stopped what he was doing and muttered to himself.
"Deadpool isn't Wade, and I'm Deadpool, but I'm actually Wade."
"I'm Wade Wilson. I'm Deadpool."
Keeping a close eye on the laboratory, Brad watched Wade go through the entire process in just a few dozen seconds: a headache, self-harm, talking to himself, and finally, madness taking over his eyes.
But that was perfect. That madness was exactly what Brad needed.
The closer the ball of flesh was to irrational humans, the more active it became.
Yet despite being a complete lunatic, Number One hadn't been judged insane by the ball of flesh. Apparently, the logical principles Number One followed merely differed from the other Brads' worldviews.
Of course, Brad could also pick an Earth in some universe and feed every human on it to the Eye Demon Flesh. But rounding up humans on such a massive scale and feeding them to an eldritch demon...
Drawing attacks from other powerful lawful-good magic users wouldn't be particularly pleasant.
After all, he already had an Administrator looming over him who seemed to belong to the technological side.
Brad wasn't ready to make enemies everywhere.
Lurking in the shadows and