"Wade, take off your mask and go to the front of the team."
Keeping Deadpool around was indeed bad for one's health, especially one's appetite and blood pressure.
But at critical moments, his cousin could always be put to use. Whether as a shield or a mine sweeper, Wade was particularly useful.
And now, what was needed was for him to put his specialty to work—his passive effect, that face comparable to an ancient god of cow dung.
After exchanging blows with several black-robed figures from a distance along the way, Su Ming had discovered that Force Choke could kill them by snapping their necks. That meant they were humanoid creatures, and any creature with a spine most likely had a stomach and a respiratory tract.
As long as they possessed self-awareness, were not mentally ill, and had stomachs, they would most likely be affected by Deadpool's "Disgust" effect.
"Every time, it's always like this. I know my illness has made my face less handsome than before, but I still barely meet the standard for being handsome, right?" Still gripping his Katana, Deadpool raised a delicate finger and peeled off his mask. His rotten mouth was full of crooked, decayed teeth, yet he continued muttering, "These guys have no appreciation at all. They throw up whenever they see me. That's way too much. It really breaks my heart."
"Really, that sounds kind of pitiful. Blegh." Tracy felt a little sympathy for Deadpool, but after he turned toward her with a touched look, the girl covered her mouth and bent over.
"Why did you have to join in on this?" The chimpanzee crouching on Deathstroke's shoulder sounded rather gleeful as he stretched out an arm to pat her back and help her catch her breath. "It's fine. You'll get used to