The second Gotham's Old Bridge disappeared, Chen Mo collided with a red-and-black mask.
Deadpool had both arms around his waist.
Their chests pressed together, they hung upside down above a burning stone platform, bound together by a thick bundle of black tendons.
Chen Mo's new Silk Launcher pressed against Deadpool's ribs, while the empty holster at Deadpool's waist dug into Chen Mo's thigh.
Their position was intimate enough to invite plenty of misunderstandings.
Chen Mo glanced down. Fire burned beneath the platform, and monsters in black robes surrounded a giant face covered in fangs. When that face opened its mouth, flames spewed between its teeth.
This seemed to be hell.
It was only natural for Deadpool to end up in hell, but shouldn't he himself have gone to heaven?
"I told you we were running out of time." Deadpool spoke against Chen Mo's mask. "See? We've successfully left Gotham. The route was a little roundabout, and there was a navigation error with the destination, but what cross-universe trip doesn't have a layover?"
Chen Mo made an enormous effort to put a little distance between their faces and tried moving his right hand.
The tendons immediately tightened, making his ribs ache beneath the red-and-black suit.
"You knew we'd cross over."
"I knew a scene transition was coming."
"This is hell! You've dragged me into hell in every sense of the word!"
"A popular transit hub," Deadpool said. "Long lines, lousy service, open year-round. At least we're holding each other nice and tight."
"You've been here before?"
"My memory's a little scattered. I remember a flying cat, a registration form with my name spelled wrong, and some guy with a fork saying I lacked repentance." Deadpool thought for a moment. "I was about eighty-five percent lucid at the time. Very reliable data."