Deadpool's name came from a joke.
The term "Deadpool" was originally just a pastime for a group of desperate people with no way out and no future. In their spare time, they would write their names on a blackboard and bet on who would die first.
That was where the cruel humor of the game came in. Wade Wilson—a cancer patient—joined the bet, and through a twist of fate, ended up gaining immortality.
Even if everyone on that blackboard died, even if everyone he ever knew turned to dust, even if his entire universe vanished, he still wouldn't fucking die. He would forever be the ultimate winner of the Deadpool game.
"I mean, for fuck's sake! Nobody wants to hear this boring origin story! Audiences these days just want to skip straight to the killing or the fucking!"
Deadpool practically flew forward using both hands and feet, and in no time at all appeared in front of Joey. It was his first time seeing such a young Superman:
"This version of you looks even better—and younger than Tom Welling when he first showed up on screen!"
Wait a sec—Superman?
Deadpool suddenly snapped back to reality.
"Hold on, where the hell did the TVA's shitty equipment dump me? Is this even still Marvel?"
A universe with a DeepDarkFantastic version of the X-Men didn't surprise Deadpool all that much. The comic editors had already exhausted every possible gimmick; even he sometimes had to play the good guy. The X-Men being villains wasn't that big a deal.
But X-Men and Superman existing at the same time was a little too absurd—especially given how strained relations had been lately between Darth Mickey and Dog Warner.
"Oh!"
Realizing this, Deadpool hurriedly motioned for his cameraman to change angles:
"Yeah, move the camera down. Just shoot me. Leave that red cape in frame, that's enough! I'm such a genius."
Deadpool wasn't Steven Spielberg. If he fully filmed Superman, he'd be in court with Warner Bros. tomorrow.
"So, anyway, Super—"
From the world's most copyright-respecting company, Deadpool nearly let it slip:
"Ahem. Cavill! Yeah, Cavill. What brings you here? Looking to party with these X—no, G-Men? I just came out of there. The party's almost over, so if you want in, you'd better hurry."
"No. Did you see a girl inside? Blonde, about this tall. Her name is Laurie. She looks kind of… dumb."
Joey clearly wanted to ask Deadpool the same question, but finding Laurie came first. Deadpool wasn't a good guy in any universe, but at least he was a familiar face—someone who could communicate normally.
Deadpool was sharp. Even without sneaking a peek at the script, he could tell from Joey's eyes what was going on.
Superman cared deeply about this girl.
But judging from what Deadpool had uncovered wandering the manor earlier, it could only mean one thing: this universe's good days were numbered.
What the G-Men were doing in secret made even Disney and 20th Century Fox look tame. Hell, it wouldn't even be allowed in a San Fernando Valley or Tokyo Cold production.
Maybe only those Czech films made specifically for Germans could show even a fraction of it.
Deadpool desperately wanted to tell Superman everything he'd found. After all, back when he wore a ring, he'd technically been half a colleague of Superman. The deal had fallen through, sure—but the friendship remained, right?
But Deadpool chose to refuse.
"Hold up, hold up… this kind of content is not coming out of my mouth! My stories are at most R-rated!"
Luckily, Deadpool already had a solution.
He blinked into the manor, found a poor bastard passed out drunk without breaking a sweat, grabbed him by the waistband, and teleported back in front of Joey.
"This guy definitely knows what the G-Men are really about."
The man was none other than the King Helmet who had earlier scolded Deadpool at the banquet table for eating like a starving rat.
"How does that saying go again—'A Lannister always pays his debts'!"
Deadpool straddled the unconscious King Helmet, yanked off his ridiculous Spartan helmet, and unloaded several brutal left-right combos straight into his face.
Thankfully, superhuman durability was no joke. After the beating, King Helmet finally puked up last night's dinner—and woke up.
"You son of a bitch, you have a death wish?!"
King Helmet clearly still hadn't grasped the situation. He raised his arm to strike back—but the gap between a debauched celebrity and a professional top-tier mercenary was obvious.
Deadpool drew the twin blades from his back 0.1 seconds before the arm fully rose, and ensured it would never rise again.
"Now, you're going to answer every question Cavill here asks you. I suggest you start with how the G-Men kidnap children—and how you turn those kids into one of your own…"
Ignoring the screaming, Deadpool casually wiped the blood off his blades with the man's clothes and sheathed them.
"Oh, and don't bother with the whole 'If I talk, they'll kill me' bullshit."
"The G-Men might only kill you. But if I don't get what I want, I'll kill your entire family, your friends, everyone you've ever known—and then I'll decide whether or not to kill you."
Watching this, Starlight felt her skin crawl. Even through the mask, she could tell Deadpool wasn't joking—let alone King Helmet, who was at the center of the pressure.
"That's enough."
Joey reached out and stopped Deadpool's threats, greatly improving Starlight's impression of him. It seemed Superman wasn't as bad as she'd first thought.
Then Joey's next action raised her opinion even further.
Joey fired heat vision from his eyes, instantly cauterizing King Helmet's severed arms. He found Deadpool a little too talkative:
"If you keep rambling, he'll bleed out and die. You—talk!"
King Helmet's already fragile mental defenses completely collapsed. Under this torture, he immediately spilled everything:
"I'll talk! Please, just give me a quick death!"
"Wait!"
Deadpool stopped the confession again.
What the man was about to say went far beyond Disney's content limits. If Deadpool wanted his movie to release, he needed to bail before any of it came out.
Deadpool pulled out the 3DS he'd swiped from the TVA—well, it looked like one. Its main function was dimensional travel.
He needed to find the right Wolverine in the next universe so they could become idols together and save his own universe.
"Thank you, Deadpool!"
Joey stepped forward and hugged him, patting his back warmly. "You've helped me more than you know!"
"Uh… you're welcome? But isn't this hug kind of… gay?"
Deadpool hadn't expected Superman to go in for a full bear hug. Even Batman probably never got this treatment.
"Not gonna lie, if we were a thing, that'd be niche as hell. Even on AO3, nobody would read it."
Leaving this bizarre world behind, Deadpool opened a dimensional gate and headed to the next universe.
"Whew! The last world was way better!"
Deadpool landed in a desolate wasteland—nothing but sand and bones as far as the eye could see. He knew he was in for a rough few days again.
Before he could get his bearings, the sand in the distance began to tremble. The approaching mass made the grains at his feet boil and jump—then a colossal sandworm burst from the ground, jaws wide, lunging to swallow him whole.
Deadpool reached for his waist—the time watch he'd stolen from Cable was still there, right? That thing could jump through time and teleport him. He just had to press the button—
Nothing.
A few days later, deep in the desert, a pile of black-and-red shit:
"Superman, you ****!"