"Stop thinking about female savages. Homo sapiens haven't been around that long. What you'll be dealing with are ape-men, more like some kind of gorilla. Can you handle that?"
Holding a wineglass, Deathstroke shook his head at his cousin. Sex addiction was among the latter's psychiatric symptoms, and Mercenary did indeed have greater needs in that regard than ordinary people.
After all, mercenary jobs were hardly as simple as keeping order at a concert and stopping Little Fairy in a wedding dress from rushing the stage.
No one hired mercenaries for good jobs. Anything that paid meant dancing on a knife's edge. Facing the threat of life and death stirred the urge to reproduce; it was the instinct of human individuals to pass on their DNA.
But surely the reproductive partner had to at least be the same species, right?
Whether ape-men counted as humans now seemed to be a philosophical question.
"Ha, don't worry about that, Cousin."
Deadpool crooked his mouth into a grin. He loved making that Urban Dragon King expression, apparently thinking it made for a better performance.
"Our Homo sapiens ancestors interbred with Denisovans, Neanderthals, and the Ramla people. Those were all ape-men. There's no reason our ancestors could do it while I can't, right?"
"You win." Su Ming gave him a thumbs-up. He had to admit that, when it came to indiscriminate appetite, he was no match for his cousin. "If you really plan to do it, remember to record it on a home DV camera or your phone. Later, I can use it to make a deal with Lucifer."
That fallen, depraved King of Hell—the former Satan—loved this kind of thrilling, bizarre stuff. The dirtier it was, the more he liked it, and the more valuable it became as a bargaining chip.
Of course,