"So that was it. Dark—Cousin was truly too dark. But I like it. Hehehe."
While Damian and the others looked at him as if he were insane, Wade kept talking to the wall beside him. It was as though he had obtained some information from the void, and when he looked at Damian again, his gaze had changed.
He voluntarily crouched down, the eyes on his mask curving into crescents. "Damian, right? I'm Wade Wilson, codename Deadpool. But you can just call me Uncle Wade. Don't be nervous. Don't get all worked up just because you heard the surname Wilson. That anesthetic Batarang up your sleeve won't work on me, trust me. I've taken every brand of sleeping pills on the market."
"You're from Another World. Your smell is far too distinctive. One whiff, and it's as obvious as finding a rotten egg in a cake shop."
Though Damian showed no mercy with his words, he remained calmer than his teammates behind him. He did not even make a motion to cover his nose.
"Is this DC humor? What? That was a JOJO-style metaphor? I see." Wade turned his head and asked the nonexistent audience a few questions, then turned back and pulled a Screaming Chicken toy from his pocket, handing it to Damian. "Seeing you feels like getting hit in the brain by Ripple! That one was right, wasn't it? I'm the cousin of another Deathstroke. Take this toy as a gift. Bye-bye. Uncle's going to the cafeteria to eat now."
Harley stroked Damian's hair and whispered something to Deadpool. The two of them did not wait for Barry to return before slipping away in another direction.
Damian held the little yellow rubber chicken in his hand. Faintly, he could hear Harley and Deadpool's disjointed whispers behind him—topics like