"Ha, thanks, guys, for the Rockets and Skyscrapers, Treasure Maps and Ferraris."
Deadpool yawned as he rubbed his eyes, stretching toward an empty patch of air. He was obviously getting sleepy. "Mm, everyone saw it. Red Hood has been tracking Doomsday Blues for two hours now, and he still hasn't even seen a shadow. Sure enough, not every detective is Batwoman. How could the gap between people be this huge? Hehe, look at him carrying the Blade of the Great Caste and looking around. He looks like a dog."
It turned out that the Killer Squad and Red Hood were still operating in Gotham. It was now the darkest hour before dawn, and even Gotham had grown somewhat quieter. But ever since they had lost Doomsday Blues last time, they had not found him again.
Whether it was Harley's psychological profile, Shakara's extraordinary sense of smell, or Red Hood's logical deductions, it seemed that the madman Constantine had anticipated them all and effortlessly evaded capture time after time.
They had also run into several other twisted Otherworld Variants along the way and fought a few battles. Though killing them put money in their pockets, Wade genuinely found it boring now.
Because of his brain cancer, it was very difficult for him to focus on any one thing for too long.
Ah, except for fun things like smoking, drinking, playing with women, eating pizza, gaming, taking dumps, picking his nose, fooling around with Spider-Man, and so on.
In short, his psycho sister-in-law Harley was still highly motivated, and the killers were holding up well. Shakara was having the most fun. But Deadpool himself, along with Ghostface, who had an arm around his shoulders, were both starting to run out of steam.
They were sleepy, cold, and hungry. Their feet, soaked in