"This place feels a little strange. It's pitch-black everywhere. Ow, this black stuff is alive! It just tugged on my leg. Don't tell me it has a foot fetish?"
Following behind Elaine, Deadpool's mouth never stopped moving. He kept chattering complaints about everything around him ever since he arrived here:
"I know my feet are beautiful. The skin cancer and athlete's foot give them plenty of flavor too, but you can't just lick everything, you know? That habit will only hurt you. Did you hear Uncle Wade? Don't leave, I'm not done talking yet."
The writhing shadows receded, faster than they had come, as though fleeing some kind of contamination.
"Enough. Are you really not going to let your mouth rest for even a moment?" Girl God rubbed her temples, looking rather pained. The things Deadpool did and said were all a little too abstract. She realized that the last time she had been this troubled was when her mother died.
She had intended to make use of Deadpool. Though that bastard had not visited the DC Universe often in the past, the girl had seen all his performances. The "possibilities" he displayed were what the "Future" needed.
But after getting close to him today, she discovered that Deadpool truly was not someone ordinary people could handle. Even setting aside his body odor and all sorts of depraved bad habits, his nonstop nonsense alone was enough to drive anyone mad.
Yet to deal with a certain old immortal, she really had to use Deadpool. It was deeply unpleasant.
"No, my lord—parentheses, my sugar mommy—you were still too young when you were human. Once you're like me, past thirty and closing in on forty, you'll understand a truth: life lies in movement."
After chasing away the shadow creatures harassing passersby by