The day dragged on like a bad sequel—awkward, unnecessary, and full of people Harley wished he didn't have to interact with. Every time a customer approached the counter, he braced himself, hoping they wouldn't notice the subtle differences between him and Alt-Harley.
Deadpool, Logan, and Alt-Harley remained seated at their "stakeout" table, which had now been overrun with empty cups, crumbs, and an absurd number of napkin doodles courtesy of Deadpool.
"Look at this masterpiece," Deadpool whispered loudly, holding up a napkin with a crude drawing of what appeared to be Thanos in a tutu. "Tell me this wouldn't kill at Comic-Con."
Logan didn't even glance up. "Put it away before I shove it somewhere you won't enjoy."
"Touchy," Deadpool muttered, tucking the napkin into Alt-Harley's shirt pocket. "Hold onto that. It'll be worth millions when I'm dead. Which, spoiler alert, will never happen because I'm immortal."
Alt-Harley looked at Harley, still fumbling through his barista duties, and frowned. "Is it weird seeing another version of me live my life?"
"Nah," Deadpool said, slurping loudly from his straw. "It's weird you're not having an existential crisis about it. If I met another me, we'd probably just make out and call it a Tuesday."
Logan groaned. "Do you ever stop talking?"
"Nope," Deadpool chirped. "And you love it."
At the counter, Harley was just starting to relax when the door swung open with a dramatic ding. He looked up—and his heart dropped.
Four men in black suits entered the café, their movements sharp and precise. They wore sunglasses indoors, which was already suspicious, and their posture screamed "government agent."
"Uh, guys?" Harley hissed under his breath.
Deadpool glanced over, then gasped. "Oh no. It's the Men in Black. Do you think they're here for my alien tech? Wait, I don't have alien tech. Do I?" He patted himself down, pausing to check his pouches. "Nope. All clear. Just grenades and chimichangas."
Logan leaned forward, narrowing his eyes. "They're not here for coffee."
The agents scanned the room, their movements synchronized and unnatural. One of them reached into his jacket and pulled out a strange device—a glowing rod that hummed with an unsettling energy.
"That's TVA tech," Strange murmured, his voice low and urgent.
"Time cops!" Deadpool exclaimed. "Great. I didn't even do anything this time! Unless they're mad about that thing I said to Loki. Or that other thing I said to Thor. Or—"
"Shut up," Logan growled.
The lead agent pointed at Harley, his voice cold and robotic. "You are in violation of the Temporal Neutrality Act. Come with us."
Harley froze. "Me? What did I do?"
"You exist," Deadpool whispered dramatically, sliding into a crouch behind the table.
"Stay calm," Strange said, already preparing a spell. "We'll handle this."
The agents advanced, their movements unnervingly mechanical. One reached out toward Harley, but before he could make contact—
BANG.
A pancake smacked the agent square in the face.
"Breakfast diplomacy!" Deadpool yelled, wielding a second pancake like a frisbee. "They're not ready for this batter-based combat!"
Chaos erupted.
Logan sprang from his chair, claws unsheathed, and slashed through one of the agents like he was cutting paper. Sparks flew as the agent collapsed, revealing itself to be a highly advanced android.
"Robots," Logan grunted. "Figures."
Strange unleashed a series of glowing orange whips, ensnaring two more agents and pulling them into a portal he conjured beneath their feet.
Deadpool, meanwhile, leapt onto the counter, dual katanas flashing as he decapitated another android with a flourish. "You know, I was this close to quitting violence for good," he said, slicing through another. "Then you guys showed up. It's like you wanted me to relapse!"
Harley ducked behind the counter, clutching a coffee pot like it was a weapon. "What do I do?!"
"Throw coffee at them!" Deadpool called. "Or tea. Tea is a personal insult."
Another agent lunged at Harley, and he panicked, flinging the coffee pot. It shattered against the android's head, sending it staggering backward.
"Nice aim!" Deadpool said. "Next time, aim for the emotional core. That's where it hurts."
The fight was over in minutes. The café was a wreck—tables overturned, chairs splintered, and android parts scattered everywhere.
Strange closed his portal, brushing dust off his cloak. "We need to leave. More of them will come."
Deadpool grinned, picking up a severed android arm and waving it. "Can I keep this? It's so lifelike. Perfect for pranks."
Logan ignored him, turning to Harley. "You okay, kid?"
Harley nodded, though his hands were still shaking. "What do they want with me?"
Strange frowned. "Your presence here disrupted the timeline. They're trying to reset it. If they succeed…"
"I'm toast," Harley finished, his voice weak.
"Not if we keep moving," Strange said. He held up the timepad they'd taken from the TVA. "Let's find another universe."
"Another universe?" Alt-Harley asked, wide-eyed. "You're just going to leave me here with all this?!"
"Don't worry," Deadpool said, patting him on the head. "We'll be back. Probably. Unless we die. Or get distracted. Or—"
"Move," Strange interrupted, opening a portal.
Harley took one last look at Alt-Harley and the ruined café, then stepped through the portal.
As the swirling energy engulfed him, he couldn't help but think: This was supposed to be a normal day.