With Dave secured (if you could call duct tape "secured") and the house feeling like the set of a bizarre sitcom, the group finally gathered around the living room table. Deadpool was busy scribbling something on the back of a pizza roll wrapper with a broken crayon he found under the couch.
"What are you doing now?" Harley asked, his patience hanging by a thread.
"Planning," Deadpool said, squinting at his masterpiece. "This is a comprehensive timeline of our shenanigans so far. See? Here's us fighting the TVA, here's me saving everyone with my heroic duct tape skills, and this"—he drew a circle with an arrow pointing off the wrapper—"is where I finally get my own Disney+ series."
Strange groaned. "We don't have time for this."
"Yeah, yeah, Mr. Wizard, we know. Time, space, multiverse, kaboom, blah blah blah," Deadpool said, waving his hand dismissively. "You're like the multiversal version of my mom yelling at me to clean my room. Spoiler alert: It's never clean."
Logan smirked but stayed quiet.
Harley cleared his throat, trying to steer the conversation. "Okay, seriously, we need to figure out what's going on. Why is this universe so… normal? No superheroes, no villains, no… anything."
"It's like someone pressed the randomizer button," Logan said.
Strange's brow furrowed as he paced. "This isn't random. The absence of heroes here is deliberate. Something—or someone—is suppressing their emergence in this universe. A ripple effect caused by your meddling with the timelines, perhaps."
Deadpool gasped dramatically, clutching his chest. "Are you saying we're the bad guys? Oh, man, this is such a twist! I need a moment. Where's my Oscar?"
"Focus, Wade," Strange snapped, his patience thinning. "The multiverse doesn't operate like a playground. Every action you've taken has consequences, and the fabric of this universe is fraying because of it."
Harley ran a hand through his hair, anxiety creeping in. "So… what do we do? Can we fix it?"
"Of course, we can!" Deadpool interjected, hopping onto the couch. "All we need is a cool montage, some epic music, and me punching the next bad guy in the face!" He leaned forward, addressing the fourth wall. "You guys want that, right? Don't act like you're here for the emotional growth storyline. Let's keep it spicy!"
Strange ignored him and looked at Harley. "The first step is understanding the root of the disruption. This version of your universe might hold the answer."
Logan narrowed his eyes. "So, what? We start knocking on doors and asking people if they've seen any cosmic anomalies?"
"Not quite," Strange said. "The disturbance is centered on this timeline's Harley. We need to know more about him—and why his presence feels so… off."
"Wait," Harley said, his voice trembling. "Are you saying I'm the reason this universe is messed up?"
"No," Strange replied, his tone measured. "I'm saying this timeline's version of you might hold the key to fixing it."
As if on cue, the duct-taped version of Harley upstairs let out a muffled yell.
"Aw, man, I forgot we had another Harley," Deadpool said, jumping to his feet. "Time to interrogate ourselves! Ooooh, this is gonna get meta!"
Before anyone could stop him, Deadpool darted upstairs. Moments later, he came back, dragging alternate Harley down the stairs like a sack of potatoes.
"Here we are! Two Harleys for the price of one," Deadpool announced, dropping alternate Harley into a chair with a thud. "So, Alt-Harls, what's your deal? You a barista too? Or are you secretly the chosen one destined to save this boring universe from eternal mediocrity?"
Alternate Harley glared at him, the duct tape still firmly in place.
"Right. Duct tape. My bad," Deadpool said, peeling it off with a dramatic flourish.
"Ow!" Alt-Harley shouted, wincing. "What is wrong with you?!"
"Do you want the short list or the trilogy?" Deadpool shot back.
Logan stepped forward, his tone gruff but calm. "Listen, kid, we need answers. What do you know about this universe? Anything weird happening here lately?"
Alt-Harley looked around, his expression a mix of fear and confusion. "Weird? You mean, aside from you guys showing up out of nowhere?"
"Boring answer," Deadpool said, pulling out the crayon and wrapper again. "Next."
Harley knelt beside his alternate self, trying to look as non-threatening as possible. "Look, I know this is a lot to process. But we're not here to hurt you. We're trying to fix something that's gone wrong. Please, anything you can tell us might help."
Alt-Harley hesitated, then sighed. "Okay… look, I don't know much. But lately, there's been this… vibe. Like something's missing. I can't explain it, but it's like the world's running on autopilot. No surprises, no excitement. Just… empty."
Strange's eyes narrowed. "That confirms it. This universe is being suppressed—its potential locked away. Something is intentionally keeping it ordinary."
"Uh, yeah," Deadpool said, leaning casually against the wall. "It's called capitalism. Same routine, same nine-to-five grind, same overpriced coffee. It's soul-crushing by design, people."
Strange ignored him. "We need to find the source of this suppression. If we don't, this universe—and possibly others—will collapse."
Deadpool clapped his hands. "Sweet. Another mission. Let's call it Operation Save the Snooze-Fest! Now, who's hungry? I'm thinking tacos. Anyone else?"
As the group exchanged looks of varying disbelief and exasperation, Harley couldn't help but think: This was only the beginning of the weirdest chapter in his life.