Yes, the answer was that simple. Deadpool was incredibly narcissistic. In his eyes, he was the perfect ultimate New Human, the passionate red rose of the mercenary world, the most handsome man in existence.
That universally acknowledged handsome guy Batwoman, sunshine boy Superman, Steve with his American-style perky ass, and the muscular tough guy God of Thunder whose pecs were bigger than his brain—none of them could compare to him in the looks department, as far as the bastard was concerned.
They weren't even worthy of carrying his shoes.
Once he had decided that he was the most perfect form of humanity, Lucifer naturally looked like Deadpool himself in his eyes.
And then... there was no then.
If it had been another Lady Deadpool from a Parallel World, Wade might have been interested in firing off a few friendship rounds with her. But another identical version of himself? No interest. After all, he still had Little Left and Little Right, Big Left and big right. He could have fun whenever he wanted.
Why get tangled up with a demon?
Deadpool did not know Lucifer all that well, but Wade knew Mephisto. Everyone knew that making a deal with a demon never ended with any good juice to drink.
Just look at what Ghost Rider had become. The moment he sensed Sin, he uncontrollably transformed into a flaming skeleton and raced through the streets on his bike. His life had been completely ruined. Even if he got a girlfriend, she would cheat on him sooner or later.
Sure, the latest-generation Ghost Rider, that South American kid, could still retain his own consciousness after transforming.
But what did that change? He still could not fuck his girlfriend after transforming. Skeletons did not have that organ, nor did they have that ability, you