In the crowded streets of New York City, a battered yellow taxi crawled slowly through traffic that twisted like a giant metallic snake. Horns blared endlessly. Neon lights flickered against wet pavement. It was the kind of night that never truly slept.
Inside the taxi, Deadpool was in an unusually cheerful mood.
He leaned back in the seat and sang loudly in a completely off-key voice.
"I have a little donkey, I ride it every day~
One day on a whim, I patted its donkey butt~~~"
His strange remix of the children's song echoed throughout the taxi.
Why was he so happy?
Because he had managed to return without running into Colossus.
To Deadpool, avoiding Colossus was equivalent to escaping an annoying probation officer. It felt like freedom.
In the driver's seat sat Dupont, a young Indian taxi driver. He glanced at Deadpool through the rearview mirror with a curious expression.
"What language is that?" he asked.
"Is it Chinese?"
Deadpool shrugged casually.
"Yep."
Dupont's face brightened immediately.
"That's amazing. When I was a kid, I actually dreamed about living in China."
Deadpool raised an eyebrow.
"But my parents refused completely," Dupont continued with a sigh.
"I even fought with them over it once. For a while, I honestly thought I might not be their biological child."
He paused for a moment before muttering quietly:
"…Actually, I still kind of think that."
Thinking about his fiery temper of a mother clearly gave him a headache.
Deadpool leaned forward and patted Dupont's shoulder like a supportive therapist.
"Relax, Dupont. I can testify for you."
Dupont blinked.
"Testify?"
"Yeah," Deadpool said seriously. "You are definitely their biological child. No doubt about it."
Dupont frowned.
"How can you be so sure?"
Deadpool spread his hands dramatically.
"Think about it. In orphanages, the most popular kids are always the healthy, smart, and beautiful ones. Like Leonardo DiCaprio or Anne Hathaway."
He paused before delivering the punchline.
"If parents could choose… why would anyone pick you?"
Dupont fell silent.
The logic was terrifyingly convincing.
But somehow, hearing it made him feel even worse.
For several seconds, the taxi was filled with a heavy emotional silence.
Then Deadpool suddenly slapped his own forehead.
"Damn it!"
Dupont looked confused.
"You should've fired back!"
Deadpool said passionately.
"You should've said: 'At least I have a mother!'"
Dupont shook his head calmly.
"That wouldn't be polite, Mr. Wade."
Deadpool blinked.
"What?"
"My mother taught me never to show off what I have in front of my friends."
Dupont looked at him seriously.
"What? Didn't your mother teach you that?"
Deadpool froze.
Then suddenly—
"NICE!"
"DAMN!!"
"F***!!!"
Deadpool slammed the seat in excitement.
"You've got the spirit, Dupont!"
Dupont laughed and extended his hand.
"Thank you, Mr. Deadpool. You taught me well."
Deadpool shook it proudly.
"No, no, no. You already had talent."
"No, no, no—"
The two of them continued arguing politely about who deserved credit for the insult.
---
Meanwhile, across town.
Hell's Kitchen.
The legendary mercenary gathering place.
Sisters Margaret Bar.
Inside the dimly lit bar, Weasel stood behind the counter polishing a glass lazily.
That was when he noticed the woman standing in front of him.
She wore a modified red ninja outfit, sleek and deadly.
Her presence was calm, cold, and dangerous.
Weasel stared at her for a moment before speaking carefully.
"So… Miss Ketchup," he said.
"Did you just say you want to kill Daredevil?"
The woman refused to reveal her name.
But considering her bright red suit, the nickname was the best Weasel could come up with.
The woman's eyes were icy.
"Yes."
Her voice was quiet but filled with determination.
"I will personally participate in the operation."
Weasel raised both hands.
"Whoa, whoa, hold on."
"It's not about whether you're participating."
He turned to the large man sitting beside the bar.
"Buck."
"One hundred thousand dollars to kill Daredevil."
"Would you take the job?"
Buck slowly pointed to his bruised eye socket.
"See this?"
Weasel nodded.
"Guess who did that."
Buck took a deep breath.
"That guy is not human."
"He beat me for ten straight minutes, and I couldn't even land a single punch."
He leaned back heavily.
"Forget one hundred thousand."
"I wouldn't do it even for one million dollars."
Weasel turned back toward the red-clad woman.
"See?"
"If Daredevil could be killed for one hundred thousand dollars…"
"Kingpin would probably wake up laughing every night."
But Buck suddenly paused.
He thought of someone.
Someone crazy enough.
Someone insane enough.
Someone who might actually succeed.
Weasel immediately guessed who he was thinking about.
"You're not talking about Wade, are you?"
The red-clad woman frowned.
"Who is Wade?"
Weasel scratched his chin.
"Well… that's complicated."
He sighed.
"Fine. I'll give you his address."
"But you'll have to talk to him yourself."
"And for the record—"
"That idiot owes me fifty thousand dollars."
He added one last warning.
"Also… Wade probably knows Daredevil."
"But Wade values money more than people."
"As long as you pay him enough… everything is negotiable."
The woman turned and left the bar gracefully.
Her footsteps were silent.
Once she disappeared, Weasel resumed cleaning his glass.
"Why set her up like that?"
"Even you know Wade won't accept the mission."
Buck stared at his drink silently.
Then he finished the entire glass in one gulp.
"Daredevil shouldn't die."
Weasel raised an eyebrow.
"But he just beat the hell out of you."
Buck remained quiet for a moment.
Then he spoke softly.
"I deserved it."
---
Hours later.
New York traffic had only gotten worse.
By the time Dupont's taxi stopped in front of Deadpool's apartment, the entire city was glowing with bright night lights.
Deadpool bumped fists with Dupont to pay the fare.
Then he ran excitedly toward his apartment building.
His small hideout awaited him.
There was one strange detail about the world Deadpool had traveled to.
Time flowed differently.
Much slower.
Deadpool pulled out his phone and checked the internet.
The time updated.
Half a month had passed in this world since he entered the Captain America universe.
Deadpool froze.
Half a month.
That meant…
Dust.
A lot of dust.
Opening the door would probably reveal a disgusting layer of dirt everywhere.
Deadpool hesitated.
Maybe…
He could just go to a hotel tonight.
And face reality tomorrow morning.
Yes.
That sounded like a responsible adult decision.
But unfortunately—
Deadpool was not a responsible adult.
He grabbed the doorknob anyway.
Then suddenly—
He froze.
Something was wrong.
There was no dust on the doorknob.
Deadpool narrowed his eyes.
Someone had been here.
During the two weeks he was gone.
Could it be a thief?
That didn't seem likely.
Deadpool slowly pushed open the door.
The apartment was dark.
Silent.
He reached for the light switch.
Click.
The room lit up instantly.
And there—
Standing in the middle of the living room—
Was a figure dressed in dark red.
He held two short sticks in his hands.
Deadpool's eyes widened.
"It's him…"
He whispered dramatically.
"Batman."
He was absolutely certain.
A man who fights crime at night.
A man who senses the world like sonar.
A mysterious vigilante feared by criminals.
Who else could it be?
Wait.
You mean the billionaire Bruce Wayne from DC?
No, no.
Deadpool waved that thought away.
This was Marvel's version.
Daredevil.
Matt Murdock.
Deadpool grinned.
"Hey buddy," he said casually as he walked into the room.
"Do you know why I chose red and black for my suit?"
Seeing who it was, Deadpool relaxed immediately.
Because it was only Matt.
And Deadpool talked.
And talked.
And talked.
"Because if you wear pure red, you look like a walking ketchup commercial."
Deadpool pointed at Daredevil's suit.
"My god, I'm honestly afraid you're going to pull out a bottle of ketchup any second and smile at the camera."
"'Heinz Ketchup — natural and additive free!'"
Deadpool rubbed his chin.
"You should really consider changing your name."
"Forget Daredevil."
"How about Mr. Tomato?"
"Or Captain Ketchup?"
But Daredevil had no interest in jokes.
His voice was cold.
"You killed him, Wade."
Deadpool blinked.
"What?"
Daredevil's grip tightened on his baton.
"I never told you to kill anyone."
"I made that very clear."
Deadpool stared at him in confusion.
He wasn't hiding his identity anymore.
Because somehow—
Deadpool had already discovered it.
Deadpool scratched his head.
(Well… that's what happens when you read the comics.)
Then suddenly his eyes widened.
"Wait a minute."
"You've been waiting in my house for half a month?!"
That was terrifying dedication.
Daredevil didn't answer.
Instead—
His metal baton sliced through the air with a sharp whistle.
His voice carried anger.
"That was a human life!"
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