deadpool · marvel · fourth wall breaking · regenerative healing · mercenary · crude humor · scarred · anti-hero · comedy · action
A celebratory mood hung over the Avengers' headquarters, thick enough to be cut with a knife—until a new scent cut through it instead: the distinct, pungent odor of wet garbage and city grime. The source shuffled into the hall, looking utterly spent. It was Peter Parker, fresh from a mission that had clearly gone south in every sense. At the room's center, holding the attention of a loose circle of heroes, sat Wade Wilson, sprawled in his red-and-black suit. His stream of irreverent banter died in his throat as a sharper, fouler smell hit his enhanced senses. Wade's hand shot up to clamp over his nose, his eyes widening behind the mask in a perfect pantomime of revulsion.