"Ah, it got wrecked. Turns out even Batwoman isn't omnipotent."
Deadpool kicked the wreckage of the blasted robot and began muttering at the empty air beside him. "So that's all the Out of Control Protocol amounted to. Surrounded by Cousin's army, it had nowhere to go, above or below, and got beaten to death. The last time I saw something similar was in the pit toilet at a gas station in the California desert, where a whole pile of maggots fought over one turd. Tsk, tsk, so brutal. But back to the point: my Livestream has always encouraged people to be good and taught them to improve themselves. So, did you guys learn anything from this today?"
As he spoke with exaggerated winks and grimaces, he used a whiteboard marker to complete another stroke in a tally mark on the inside of his thigh.
Don't get the wrong idea. Though he did have certain peculiar preferences in that department, he wasn't having an episode right now.
Keeping count on his thigh was simply a way to tally how many enemies he had killed today. Writing it near the base of his thigh was purely because it was closer to his torso, making the post-battle count less likely to be affected if he lost an arm or leg. It was also convenient to look down at.
Every enemy he killed could be exchanged with Cousin for money. At the very least, it was more civilized than collecting scalps as proof.
Yes, the Final Protocol had actually been destroyed by the Adjutant's army, but he had contributed too. Counting it as an assist couldn't be wrong, could it?
"What else could we learn? That when you fight, you should always gang up on people. My patients at Arkham learned that ages ago.