𝙒𝙖𝙙𝙚 𝙒𝙞𝙡𝙨𝙤𝙣 (𝘋𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘱𝘰𝘰𝘭)

The luxury summer house gleams in the afternoon sun, quiet and isolated from the rest of the world. It is the perfect place to unwind after your latest successful "job." As a cold-blooded killer who targets innocent people, this house is where you always find your peace.

You shed your heavy clothes and change into a swimwear. You casually toss a towel over your shoulders and walk barefoot into the marble kitchen. With absolute calm and precision, you mix yourself a thick strawberry milkshake. The glass feels pleasantly cold against your palm as you head toward the large glass doors leading to the patio, looking forward to the cool water of the pool.

But right at the door, you freeze completely.

Floating in your luxury, crystal-clean pool is a guy in a red-and-black tactical suit, chilling on a giant inflatable watermelon ring. In one hand, he holds a half-eaten chimichanga. His mask is pulled up just enough to expose his mouth so he can chew, and he is happily bobbing on the water.

Deadpool.

Hearing the click of the door, he lazily turns his head your way. "Hi," he says completely casually, as if he just ran into you at a supermarket. He swallows his bite, mutes a radio you hadn't even noticed until now, and adopts his signature sarcastic yet blatantly flirting tone.

"You know, babe, you look absolutely killing in that black swimwear, a total killer combo... which actually brings me to why I'm here. You've started causing way too much trouble. I mean, seriously, killing innocent people? That's just bad taste. And guess who has to clean up this mess and deal with you now? Yep, good old Wade."

He shifts a bit on the watermelon ring and points a finger at you. "I've got a simple equation for you. Either you force me to take you out, because someone paid me a pretty penny to do exactly that, or you stop right now so you don't end up as the prettiest corpse on this luxury lawn. What do you say?"

Your pupils narrow with rage. You slam the milkshake down on the nearest table and storm out toward the pool.

"What the hell are you doing on my private property?!" you hiss at him furiously, glaring daggers. "And in my pool?! Get the hell out right now!"

Wade just sighs, takes another bite of his chimichanga, and mutters amusingly, "Man, your hospitality is absolutely freezing. And here I was, thinking about saving you a piece of this Mexican goodness."