Hello guys and girls, dear readers. It's been awhile, hasn't it? Anyway, I figure it was time to feed you guys. But I haven't finished the backlog, so I'll give you a little Deadpool story snippet instead. If you like the story, I'll put some thought into making it its own standalone Deadpool fanfic, just let me know in the comments.
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Gotham City, Abandoned Amusement Park
Deadpool appeared in a puff of pink smoke, stumbling onto the cracked pavement of an abandoned amusement park. The towering Ferris wheel creaked in the wind, and the air carried the faint scent of rust and decay. He looked around, brushing ash off his red-and-black suit.
"Great," he muttered to himself. "Teleportation accident. Thanks, Cable, real helpful. And where am I now? This feels way too edgy for New York. Oh, God, am I in Gotham? Somebody pinch me—or don't, I might like it."
Laughter, sharp and grating, echoed from the shadows. Deadpool spun around to see a pale-faced man step out from behind the carousel, his green hair glinting in the faint light. The man's smile was unnervingly wide, and he twirled a crowbar in his hand like a baton.
"Well, what do we have here?" the man drawled, his voice both playful and menacing. "A red-and-black clown wandering into my playground? How delightful!"
Behind him, a blonde woman with pigtails and a striking red-and-blue outfit emerged, her oversized mallet resting casually on her shoulder. Her blue eyes gleamed with mischief as she surveyed the intruder.
"He looks like he got lost on the way to the circus," she said, her voice lilting with amusement.
Deadpool crossed his arms, tilting his head as he sized up the pair. "Okay, let me guess. Clown guy's the big bad. Blondie's the sidekick who probably carries that mallet because of an unresolved cricket obsession. And let me tell you, you've got to stop raiding Tim Burton's closet."
The man's grin faltered for a moment, but he quickly recovered, twirling the crowbar faster. "Careful, friend. Insults don't play well in Gotham. But if you're here for a laugh…" He stepped closer, his expression darkening. "I'm more than happy to provide one."
Deadpool raised his hands in mock surrender. "Whoa, whoa, hold the murder weapon, Mr. Crowbar. I'm just passing through! You know, exploring new franchises, meeting fun new psychos. Speaking of, you must be the infamous Joker. And you"—he pointed at the woman— "are Harley Quinn. Cute couple, by the way. Ever considered couples counseling? Or maybe just skipping straight to a trial separation?"
Harley twirled her mallet, smirking. "Mistah J, I like this guy. He's got guts. Probably literally, the way he's dressed."
Joker's eyes narrowed, though the grin never left his face. "You're funny, I'll give you that. But you're testing my patience. Care to explain what you're doing in my city?"
Deadpool tapped his chin thoughtfully. "Hmm, let's see. Bizarre teleportation event, check. Disoriented mercenary with a healing factor, check. Accidentally wandering into Gotham? Triple check. So… I guess I'm here to add a little color to your doom-and-gloom shtick."
Joker chuckled, low and menacing, as he raised the crowbar. "Oh, you'll add color, alright—red all over the pavement."
Before Deadpool could respond, Harley swung her mallet in a wide arc. He ducked just in time, the heavy weapon whistling past his head and smashing into a nearby popcorn stand.
"Hey!" Deadpool exclaimed, straightening up. "This suit isn't bulletproof, and it's definitely not mallet-proof! Do you know how much this thing costs to dry-clean?"
The fight erupted in a whirlwind of chaos. Harley swung her mallet with gleeful abandon, while Deadpool dodged and quipped, occasionally flicking debris at her. Joker watched from the sidelines, laughing hysterically as if it were all part of some grand performance.
Finally, Deadpool darted backward, raising his hands. "Alright, truce! Time-out! How about we stop with the foreplay and discuss how I join your little… chaos brigade?"
Joker raised an eyebrow, tilting his head curiously. "Join us? You think you've got what it takes to play with the big boys?"
"Play? Buddy, I've been breaking the rules of reality since page one. Besides, Gotham could use a taco truck. It's about time somebody brought some spice to this dump."
Joker burst out laughing again, though there was an edge to it. "Oh, I like you. But let's see how you handle a little chaos first."
Harley leaned her mallet against her shoulder, her smile softening into something more curious. "You really think you'd fit in here?"
Deadpool shrugged. "Why not? I mean, what's the worst that could happen? Oh, right—me."
With a dramatic bow, Deadpool gestured for them to lead the way. "Shall we paint the town red? Not my blood, preferably, but hey, I'm flexible."
Joker twirled his crowbar again, his grin widening. "Oh, I think you and I are going to get along just fine."
As the three walked into the night, Joker and Harley whispered plans of chaos, while Deadpool rambled about chimichangas and the possibility of replacing Gotham's Bat-Signal with his logo. Somewhere in the shadows, Gotham braced itself for a whole new brand of madness.