"Alas."
The dejected Deadpool walked home alone, the moonlight slanting down from the center of the sky and stretching his shadow long across the street.
He idly kicked an empty soda can with the tip of his shoe, and the little thing made a string of noises along the late-night street.
He had failed the interview. The Avengers had no intention of hiring him, so today, Deadpool could only go home empty-handed.
Well, not entirely empty-handed.
Yes, the Nick Fury robot he had acquired had not sold for much at all. Venom had bitten off the machine's head, completely eliminating any danger it posed. Coulson had said Wade could either take it home as a memento or sell it to S.H.I.E.L.D. as scrap for thirty dollars.
It was a little low, but thirty was still money. At the time, all his attention had been on the Avengers interview plan with its three separate routes, and he had not cared about such a small amount.
But he had not been chosen.
Whether it was Steve, Bucky, or even the seemingly least reliable Tony, none of them wanted to play with Deadpool. They had even kicked him out of Stark Tower's front doors as though they had seen garbage.
Deadpool had never expected that. He had even been so confident beforehand that he had told Dupinder to drive the taxi away first.
Originally, he had wanted to call the man from India back through the ride-hailing app, but when he touched the thirty dollars in his pocket, he decided to save a little and steal a bicycle or unicycle from the roadside to ride home.
But as he walked, his brain, rotting from brain cancer, forgot all about that, and he ended up simply walking home.
"Son of a bitch! You wandering