"Bro, get me a pack of cigarettes."
"Bro, I want a drink."
"Bro, I'm hungry. Do you have anything to eat?"
Someone kept calling out "bro" in the tiny basement, lending the somewhat chilly room a hint of familial warmth. Unfortunately, the cutesy voice did not belong to an adorable little sister, but to Deadpool squeezing his throat and acting spoiled. That was a little disgusting.
"Why do you ask me for everything?" Su Ming handed the cake in his hand to his cousin. It was a good thing he had bought in Stormwind City. Since it had been stored in the Spatial Pouch, the cherries atop it were still bright and plump. "I gave you spatial equipment too. What did you even put in it?"
Deadpool had a Runecloth bag. Even without one, his pants pockets and underwear were like four-dimensional spaces and could achieve similar effects.
If he pulled a recoilless rifle out from behind his ass, that would be perfectly normal, because it was entirely reasonable.
"Nothing much. Just some toys."
With half his mask lifted, Deadpool wolfed down the cake while watching Little Superman's family journey. At the same time, he pulled a pile of mosaic-censored cylindrical objects from his pants pocket.
Deathstroke gave him the Black Guy Question Mark look. Was that really how the saying was supposed to be used?
But the red rose of the mercenary world did not care. He put away his toys, propped his legs on the table, and continued arranging Little Superman's story.
"Adjutant, arrange for a group of African Americans at the next stretch of road. Have them block the road and try to rape the Kent family's pickup. Have Little Superman painstakingly try to persuade them, fail, and then be forced to kill them all before the