Maybe living here, a hunting rifle is sufficient against polar bears or other beasts, but when Santa Claus steps out, his head is almost instantly pinned by four guns.
The one holding the guns with standard posture is Su Ming, who is also the fastest.
Even though the exact situation is unknown, taking the advantage and controlling the conversation is never wrong.
And like the lively Black group, wielding guns with a double-handed inner eight, naturally, that's Wade. Although his gun skills aren't as strong as his cousin's, it's so close there's no reason to miss the target.
Normal people fear guns, while extraordinary people look at which side has more, or fewer, guns.
For superheroes, guns aren't very useful, but they leave a lasting image of violence in people's hearts; they are synonymous with threat.
Even if you can smash someone's head with a punch, pressing a fist against their head isn't as intimidating as pressing the muzzle of a small-caliber pistol.
Wade turns his head to an empty spot earnestly saying: "Dear audience, at this moment, the muzzle is only a centimeter from the old man's head. But I bet the next second, this Santa will fall in love with me. He will say three words to me: 'I Love You.' And if we have to give a deadline to this love, I think perhaps until I pull the trigger."
Clang, that's the sound of Santa's hunting rifle hitting the ground. Seeing Deadpool and Deathstroke, he seemed to lose his strength instantly, and he did say three words, though not as Deadpool expected.
"Kill me!"
That's what Santa said, and he even reached to grab Su Ming and Wade's guns, planning to pull the trigger himself.
Wade skipped back a step, put away his gun, sighed, and continued interacting with nonexistent viewers: "I guessed the beginning, but not the end. My love will be wearing a bikini, her feet will..."
"Bang!"
Deathstroke quickly picked up the hunting rifle from the ground and blasted Deadpool away, while Su Ming used a capture technique to counter Santa Claus, pushing him inside the house.
Peter glanced at Deadpool in the snow with sympathy; having one's neck broken is certainly lethal, but not for Deadpool.
Admittedly, guns are also an effective way to stop Wade's blabber, so the sympathy is limited, and Peter, a bit gleeful, followed Deathstroke into the house with a slight bounce in his step.
The inside was much warmer. Peter casually closed the door, as he always had a good habit of shutting doors.
Tossing Santa back onto his couch, Su Ming also put away his gun, having previously known Santa's abilities, he was prepared.
As a god and mutant, Santa Claus has some very bizarre abilities such as instantly moving to any chimney on Earth, speaking with reindeer, or creating candy canes out of thin air.
But in his current state, Santa clearly has no will to live, and Su Ming has judged that what he drank was indeed alcohol, with a blood alcohol content likely above 2.0 — his walking must be wobbly.
"So, old man, how did you successfully slim down, and why are you seeking death?" Su Ming picked up a bottle and sniffed, poor quality aniseed liquor, it's so bad even Su Ming's own brewery's guard dogs wouldn't drink it.
"Did you overdo dieting? Tricked by a personal trainer?" Peter's imagination ran wild too, finding no place to sit, he simply sat on the floor.
"I deserve to die. I will destroy this world; kill me, I am already a wreck." Santa Claus sobbed to them, but seeing no response from Deathstroke, he quickly shifted his 'main crying target' to Spider Hero.
"Take your time to explain; don't rush, I will help you." Peter was the most warm-hearted and promptly promised assistance.
"My Christmas gift factory was taken over, I can't even afford a meal, my wife ran away, Rudolph and the others ran too. After midnight, it's Christmas, and I don't have a single gift; I am a sinner."
Rudolph is the red-nosed reindeer, serving as the sleigh's headlamps.
Santa clearly stated his problems to Peter, then blinked his small eyes at him.
"But you have alcohol, doesn't that mean money is not a problem?" Peter pointed at the empty bottles; he smelled the alcohol upon entering the room.
"Alcohol doesn't fill the stomach; you can't imagine how much Rudolph's feed costs annually." Santa diverged the topic.
Peter mulled over it, it made sense. Iron Man had told him how much raising a pony costs yearly, and reindeer should be even more.
Before he could consult more with Santa, Deadpool, head tucked under his arm, pushed the door in like a Headless Knight, naturally sitting on Santa Claus's lap.
"You're lucky this time; the world's best mercenary is right here. Let me negotiate terms with you."
"???"
Santa looked at the Dead Man's Head, and then at Deathstroke wandering the room with arms folded, utterly confused.
It's well-known that negotiating terms is Deathstroke's habit; Deadpool only recognizes US Dollars, so why the change today?
"Originally, a few kids hired me to kill you; they offered fifty thousand US Dollars, but I think you're a nice person, so if you add another ten thousand, I'll help you kill them instead." Deadpool reattached his head, but since the wound wasn't healed, he needed to hold it in place.
This felt right, Santa's expression softened somewhat.
"Hey!" Peter smacked Deadpool; this was too dark, how could he suggest killing kids?
"Alright, not killing them." Wade waved but discreetly passed Santa a business card, whispering: "Call afterward."
"I won't hurt the children, just kill me, I don't want to live anymore." Santa Claus closed his eyes, maybe because he drank too much, or maybe because Deadpool had jumped into his arms earlier, so he vomited all over Deadpool.
Deadpool stood up calmly, instantly stripping clean, and continued to solicit: "Let's not talk about that for now. If I help you recover your factory, your wife, and your reindeer, can you grant me a wish?"
"Of course, I can." Santa Claus nodded with certainty.
Wade pulled out a new uniform from his darkened strawberry little shorts and put it on, then took out paper and pen from the uniform pocket to draft a contract. Although his writing looked as ugly as chicken scratches, the details of the contract were indeed precise.
After all, he had been a mercenary for so many years.
Scribbling away, he handed the contract to Santa Claus, then rubbed his hands expectantly, waiting for the other party to sign.
However, seeing Deadpool's wish was for Santa Claus to kill him, the old man forlornly put down the contract and shook his head: "Sorry, I can't fulfill that wish. How about wishing for world peace instead?"
"You can achieve world peace?" Peter widened his eyes. Is this a god?
Unexpectedly, Santa Claus shook his head again: "I can't do it because all these conditions are equally excessive; I can't accomplish any of them."
Deadpool sighed, drew out his handgun, ready to shoot Santa Claus: "Then what use are you to me, I'll just go for fifty thousand US dollars."
"Kill me, and afterward, children all over the world will have no Christmas, and they'll know I died by your hand. Congrats, you'll be famous." Santa Claus stiffened his neck, nudging his head towards the gun.
Wade froze for a moment, then breathed heavily: "I hate being threatened by others the most. Do you think I dare not shoot? Whether others have Christmas or not doesn't concern me in the slightest!"
"Shoot then, what's with the chatter? If you dare not shoot, you're a useless piece of crap!" Santa Claus had drunk, showing no fear of Deadpool.
"I'll shoot you dead!" Deadpool snapped open the gun's safety.
"Shoot, right here. If you don't shoot, you're just as useless trash as I am." Santa Claus already saw that Wade wouldn't pull the trigger, so he forcefully bumped his head on the barrel, leaving a red dot akin to Ah San style on his forehead.
Seeing the escalating fracas, Deathstroke still admired the antique fittings in the house not far away. Peter had to intervene himself; he shot a web, entangled Wade's handgun, and took it away.
"Wade, let's just help him then, think of the children around the world." He began persuading Deadpool to aid voluntarily.
Deadpool was unaffected, drawing another gun: "You still don't get it. From the age of four, when I moved into the orphanage, I knew Santa Claus didn't actually exist, but what's speaking with us now is a manifestation of cosmic imagination. You don't understand what exists behind him. The trade conditions I proposed, he can accomplish."
"If he really is that powerful, he could reclaim all that he's lost himself. Have you thought about that? Now that he's in this predicament, it shows he's not omnipotent."
Peter immediately took away Deadpool's gun again, pointing out the flaw.
"You've got a point there... Alright, I won't kill him, but I absolutely won't work for free either. Mercenaries need to gain something." Wade thought about it, stood up, flexing his neck: "Don't you agree, cousin? Mercenaries can't have their pay delayed."
"Uh-huh."
Su Ming was at the fireplace nearby, fiddling with a peculiar statue, dodging Wade's questioning.
The statue in hand was a familiar Ancient God image, an octopus-headed winged creature squatting on a cubed base, eyes closed, the base etching some unknown symbols.
He was somewhat intrigued, this may be the most valuable item at Santa Claus's place.
No wonder Santa Claus seemed a bit mad; perhaps it's the effect of this little thing.
Forcibly memorizing the patterns and characters above, Su Ming discreetly placed the statue back into position. This intel Secret Guest might comprehend, as she, being the Lord of Hell Border, indeed needs reinforcement.
Holding a Hell Plane is crucial to Deathstroke's ability to intimidate other Lords of Hell.
Whether that territory is directly or indirectly in Su Ming's control, having a place with Hell attributes gives the possibility to launch a Hell Plane annexation war, utterly annihilate a Demon King.
Su Ming in terms of magic can't compare to The Ancient One. She can't rely on raw power to intimidate those unruly characters, so she can only use strategic plans to gain the upper hand.
Specifically, it's to recruit Secret Guest, letting two Supreme Mages join forces.
Up to 1955, although the surface of 40K Earth seemed not to have developed rapidly, its defense capability against alternate dimensions, other planes, and even parallel worlds had taken a leap compared to when The Ancient One was in office.
While Su Ming checked other things, Deadpool and Spider Hero's verbal spar had also subsided. Wade was just putting up a tough front; he couldn't possibly let kids worldwide not receive Christmas gifts thereafter.
However, don't assume that's Deadpool's conscience or humanity, but due to another reason.
In Deadpool's view, if a movie included scenes of killing kids or killing Santa Claus, it'd definitely be rated R-18 and above. But he aimed for a PG-13 rating, which relates to audience size, relating to popularity.
"Okay, if you're willing to provide me free peppermints for life, we're on."
Wade tentatively extended his hand to Santa Claus.
The old man grabbed his hand straight away, vigorously shaking it up and down, as if fearing Wade might regret it.