Harley had officially reached his breaking point. A day ago, he was making cappuccinos for hipsters who thought "extra foam" was a personality trait. Now, he was in a run-down apartment with Wolverine and Deadpool, being told his favorite comic book had basically hit the "delete" button on the multiverse.
"This... this can't be real," Harley muttered, pacing the room. "I mean, you're not real. You're comic book characters! Fictional! Make-believe! You're not supposed to exist!"
Deadpool clapped his hands. "Oh, sweet summer child. You've clearly never read Deadpool Corps. Multiverse shenanigans are so last season. But hey, welcome to the big leagues!"
Logan grunted, leaning back in his chair. "Kid, we don't got time for you to process this existential crisis. The multiverse is breaking apart, and you're ground zero."
"Me?! Why me?!" Harley threw his hands in the air. "I'm nobody! I make lattes for a living! The most dangerous thing I've ever done is watch Avengers: Endgame without tissues!"
Deadpool gasped. "No tissues? What kind of monster are you?"
Harley ignored him, turning to Logan. "Look, there's gotta be some mistake. I didn't do anything!"
Logan sighed, pulling out a cigar and lighting it. "It ain't about what you did. It's about that." He pointed to the Deadpool comic still clutched in Harley's hand.
"What? My comic?" Harley looked down at it, bewildered. "It's just a comic book!"
"Is it?" Deadpool drawled, suddenly right next to Harley, squinting at the comic like he was examining a rare artifact. "Because I'm pretty sure that thing's glowing."
Harley frowned. "What are you—" He stopped mid-sentence as he noticed it, too. A faint, ominous glow pulsed from the edges of the pages. "Oh, come on. That's not normal!"
Deadpool smirked. "Define 'normal.' Because in my world, this is basically Tuesday."
Before Harley could respond, the glow intensified. The comic suddenly yanked itself out of his hands and hovered in midair, flipping its pages wildly.
"Okay, no. Nope. Nopeity nope nope," Harley stammered, backing away. "This is some Poltergeist nonsense! Fix it!"
"Fix it?" Deadpool scoffed, drawing a katana and pointing it at the comic. "What do I look like, a plot device? Wait, don't answer that."
Logan growled. "Quit screwing around, Wade. This ain't funny."
"Oh, come on, grumpy claws! This is hilarious! Look at him." Deadpool gestured to Harley, who was now pressed against the wall, hyperventilating. "He's one bad metaphor away from passing out!"
Before Logan could reply—or Harley could collapse—the comic exploded. Not in a fiery, destructive way, but in a whoosh-of-bright-light-and-dramatic-sound-effects kind of way. The room was instantly bathed in a blinding white light, forcing everyone to shield their eyes.
When the light faded, the comic lay on the floor, its pages completely blank.
"Okay," Harley said, breaking the silence. "That's not ominous at all."
Logan bent down to pick up the comic, flipping through the empty pages. "It's dead. Whatever power was in it—it's gone."
"Gone?" Deadpool's voice suddenly became eerily serious. "Oh no. You know what that means?"
Harley gulped. "What?"
Deadpool's eyes twinkled with mischief. "ROAD TRIP!"
"Road trip?" Harley and Logan said in unison.
Deadpool nodded enthusiastically. "Yep! We've gotta track down whoever—or whatever—stole the story out of this thing. My guess? Evil multiversal overlord. Or maybe it's Mephisto! Everyone always blames Mephisto."
Logan sighed deeply, rubbing his temples. "Why do I even bother?"
"Wait, hold on," Harley interjected. "Why do I have to come? Can't you two, I don't know, superhero your way out of this without me?"
Deadpool gasped, clutching his chest. "Oh, Harley. Sweet, naive Harley. You're the main character. Without you, this whole thing falls apart faster than a DC cinematic universe."
"Wait. Did you just—?"
"Focus, kid," Logan interrupted. "He's right. For some reason, you're connected to this mess. Wherever we go, you're coming with us."
Harley groaned. "Great. Just great. How am I supposed to explain this to my boss? 'Sorry I missed work; I was busy saving the multiverse.'"
Deadpool patted him on the back. "Don't worry about it, pal. By the time we're done, you won't even need a job. You'll be too famous! Or, you know, dead. Fifty-fifty, really."
"Not helping!" Harley snapped.
Logan stood, stretching. "Alright, let's get moving. We've wasted enough time."
"Moving where?" Harley asked, already dreading the answer.
Deadpool grinned, pulling out a ridiculously oversized map covered in doodles. "First stop: SHIELD's super-secret underground bunker. Or as I like to call it, the place they hate when I show up."
Harley stared at him, wide-eyed. "How do you even know where that is?"
Deadpool winked. "Comic book logic, baby. Don't question it."
With that, Deadpool kicked open the apartment door and strolled out, whistling a jaunty tune. Logan followed, muttering something about "dealing with idiots." Harley stood frozen for a moment before sighing deeply.
"Why does this feel like the worst decision of my life?"
He grabbed the blank comic, shoved it into his bag, and reluctantly followed the two unlikely heroes into the chaos awaiting them.