A string of Space Teleportations had not only left the enemy utterly confused; the teammates were clearly just as bewildered.
Especially now, when everyone only knew they were in some basement but had no idea whose basement it was. The room's decor had a faint Wasteland-punk flavor, yet there were high-tech elements as well.
A large number of integrated touch panels and various appliances built into the walls—these were clearly not things that should be commonplace in a private residence.
"I—"
Carol looked at Diana, who was held in Deathstroke's arms, and was about to ask a question when Deadpool beat her to it. He stepped in front of her and immediately began chattering away.
"Can I have anything I want to eat? Then I want steamed lamb, steamed bear paw, steamed deer tail, braised flower duck, braised spring chicken, braised gosling, marinated pork, marinated duck, soy-braised chicken, cured meat, pine-pattern sausage, air-dried meat, sausage, assorted Su platter, smoked chicken breast, steamed eight-treasure pork, glutinous rice-stuffed duck, braised pheasant in a jar, braised quail in a jar, marinated assorted meats—"
Unlike Deathstroke, Deadpool's talent for languages was only average. After all, no matter what language one wanted to learn, memorization was unavoidable.
But he was greedy and lazy, and his brain cancer often made him forget things. The essential requirements for learning a language had basically never had anything to do with him.
Still, perhaps because he had previously used the Plot Continuity Gem to alter his language settings, he could now speak flawless Imperial Capital dialect. His erhua accent was simply perfect.
"Get lost, get lost, get lost. Are you reciting a menu at me? No, you really are reciting a menu. Since when did you learn crosstalk?"
Even though he said it quite well, the dark mercenary could