"Once the spaceships I'm selling gradually become widespread, easing Earth's population pressure and resource conflicts, they'll change careers too. They'll have bright futures."
The Sorcerer Supreme exhaled a puff of smoke and leaned back in his chair. In the darkness, only the cigarette tip could be seen glowing. "Manual labor will inevitably be replaced by highly automated systems. They can't compete with Synthezoids in this line of work—worse in every respect. If you really pity them, why not start a company? In the future, you can hire them after they lose their jobs and have them do something respectable."
"I have a company." Deadpool tilted his head and pulled his business license from his pocket. "Look, my Odd Jobs Agency takes on all detective and investigation work. We can find cats and dogs, help people move house, or help move people's heads."
His Odd Jobs Agency was even worse than Jessica Jones's detective studio. Other than himself, its only employee was Negasonic Teenage Warhead, a teenager with an unconventional sexual orientation. She did not even reliably show up for work and had absolutely no enthusiasm for it.
"Forget it. You're not cut out for this. Talk it over with your Succubus Queen when we get back." Deathstroke watched the pickup truck projection on the wall, where the Family was racing Dung Beetle, and smiled. "Shakara is excellent at running an organization. Stop overthinking things and just be a Mercenary."
His cousin was quite capable as a Mercenary, but expecting him to become a good boss was less realistic than expecting Tony Stark to become a monk.
"Mm, you're right. Let's keep watching the Kent family's road movie."
Wade's unstable mind came with equally fickle moods. Reassured by his cousin, he immediately tossed those troublesome thoughts aside and went back to