If anyone asked just how lively and cheerful Batwoman had become these days, all they had to do was look at her behavior in Gotham.
"Never mind that we couldn't find Doomsday Blues. He's a Constantine from Another World; sooner or later, he'll show himself. Friends, why let an unsuccessful mission ruin our enjoyment of this late-night acid rain?"
He rubbed his hands together, wrapped an arm around the red-and-black figure beside him, took a deep sniff, and laughed.
"Oh, not bad. Deathstroke's Cousin, you smell like expired pickles blended with rotten organs. How about this? I'll treat you all to Russian food in town. Hahaha."
"What? Really? I'm in."
Deadpool hurriedly raised an arm and sniffed his armpit. Everyone around him could smell a pungent odor spreading through the rain, but he noticed nothing himself.
"Niffler, I can't smell it. Maybe it's because I have nasopharyngeal cancer. The inside of my nostrils is peeling too. Want to see a caterpillar, Batwoman? I just have to turn the tube-shaped layer of skin that peeled off inside my nose inside out, and it'll look like a caterpillar. Then I'll spread this leaking pus over the surface like varnish. Ta-da, done. Come on, everyone, take a look at my handmade artwork. Oh, and Bat-sis, your hair is black, and my nose hair is black too. We're made for each other, hehe."
"I really envy Deathstroke for having such a capable relative. None of Bruce's relatives are as interesting as you." Zorn Batman nodded repeatedly in praise of Deadpool's caterpillar art, as though he did not find it disgusting at all, and continued smiling as he led Deadpool toward the restaurant.
He really might have been different from the previous Batwoman, because not far from the two men talking, Harley and several serial