2013.08.17 - Trio of Trouble vs. Deadpool Discombobulation

The darkness is the time of the night the Bat family comes out to play. A half moon shining in the dark sky, the ambient light making the sky seem devoid of any sort of star. Currently Damian Wayne aka Darkwing's perched on the ledge of a building his optics up as he waits for the people below to engage in an act that would warrant him stepping in. The dark haired youth is just itching for a good fight, ever since he got into a fight with Drake and his father acknowledged him, he's not had a chance. He was essentially grounded for doing it. Below there's four heavily armed men standing on either side of two men who are currently talking, no violence has yet actually broken out but it is just a matter of time.

Nightwing hasn't been back in Gotham for long. Maybe a few hours before he was suited up in the black and blue armor and prowling the city skyline by flips and leaps that take him across the rooftops of buildings leading in a very particular direction. The optics set in his mask shift with the light so that he always sees things in either a digital green/black or moonlit white hologen. It's one of the first things a bat has to get use to, color variation in the optics.

His hand plants on an air conditioner unit and his whole body pivots over it with a runners momentum, vaulting up into the air and rolling into a slow forward flip. His landing is more of a roll that brings him right back to his feet at full speed and sliding at the end of the ledge to gaze down into one of the most notorious alleyways in all of Gotham City.

Crime Alley.

That there are armed men down there doesn't surprise the former Boy Wonder; there's always criminals down there... but he's here for a reason.

Why am I here again? Oh. Yeah. Procrastinating on that whole 'spy on the Avengers' task that the Bat strong-armed her into doing. Bastard. Huntress is on the same ledge as Darkwing, watching the same group of thugs. She knows she can't sneak up on the kid so she doesn't try, her attempts at stealth really only to keep those people below from noticing her. Once she's close enough, though, she greets the younger vigilante with a single word more breathed than whispered. "Hey."

Sneaking up on anyone in the Bat Family is pretty much impossible. They are taught to be stealthy and be aware of their surroundings. "We have company." Darkwing says before he jumps down as the men pull their guns, he's not terribly worried about his rate of descent. So they might have resolved things but guns drawn means something fully illegal was going on and that means that it's time for Darkwing to swing into action and inflict grievous bodily harm on those that would commit crimes in his father's city.

Nightwing spies the pair on an adjacent ledge almost as soon as he arrives at it. Like Darkwing, like all of the Bats, his keen situational awareness alerts him with just a casual glance of his surroundings. 'Never be surprised', Bruce's words fill his mind as he stares not across the gap at his company, but down into the alleyway beneath him, 'Be a surprise'.

The Prodigal son moves quickly, stepping out off the ledge and landing with one curled foot bent around the railing of a fire escape. His knee bends just enough to act as a spring that sends him cartwheeling through the air towards a ledge jutting out from beneath a window, temporarily anchoring his descent while his feet grip the stone and push off into an exaggerated backwards somersault over the orange glow of the street lights below.

Like a ping pong ball, he flips and twirls downward. In some cases barely avoiding the light, in others casting just enough shadow to 'draw' attention skyward, but not enough to make them fully aware of where it was cast from.

When he finally stops, it's kneeling on the railing of the last escape before the ground level. One arm cast across his knee, the other wrapped around the metal railing for added support. The optics in his mask adjusting for the orange glow, casting everything in a light magnification that uses the ambient glow and allows him to pierce the darker shadows after redirecting it across his visual field.

"Man. All this RP is taking /forever/," Deadpool grouses. He sits with his chin in his hand, hanging out across a window ledge and leaning on his elbows. He watches the gangsters slowly start to produce weapons and considers options.

We could stab them all. I am a fan of the stabbing. Yay, we agree on something! "If I might offer a counterpoint," Deadpool says. He rummages around at his feet, then produces an AT-4 rocket launcher. The defense cedes the point. Ooh, sexy! "Right? I mean, the up close and personal kill is cool and all, but /this/ will get us bonus points because there's more than five of them." MULTI-KILL!

Deadpool sighs happily, then glances through the FLIR sight at the descending BatFam. "Oh man, three more?! I'm gonna get like... uh..." He starts writing in the air with a fingertip, and then a +10! pops up over his head. "Wow, major bonus points! I might unlock the Rabid Rocket Launcher cheevo!"

Deadpool waits until everyone's /juuuuust/ about inside the splash damage of his rocket. Which, from Deadpool's perspective, literally looks like a giant red circle painted on the ground.

Ksssh WHOOOOOMPH.

Huntress is clearly not one of the Bat's ilk. Nightwing's arrival is a surprise, but she's at least schooled enough to not let it show. Then he and Darkwing BOTH basically throw themselves at the ground leaving her behind. The hell? Fine. She opts to stay up high and pulls her crossbow. That's about the time that she sees the ... ROCKET start toward the ground. God, please let these two be listening to OracleRadio. "Incoming!" she says as loud as she dares, changing her aim to fire at the source of the weapon deployment.

Yeah. Darkwing was listening and uses a grappling gun to change his direction and swing up. "Whoever fired that is in for a seriously bad time." Because you don't take away the ability to beat on someone from Darkwing, especially when he's not in a bad mood. The AT round hits the ground and explodes creating a pretty good size crater in the ground and sending the criminals flying with burns and chunks of concrete damaging their bodies. Guns go off for a moment as the gunmen's have involuntary spasms from being knocked through the air by the concussive force.

Whatever Nightwing was going to do to stop these gangster, that all changes when the propellant on the rocket lights up his masks HUD like the forth of July. His head snaps upwards at the quickly approaching rocket and has only a handful of milliseconds to come up with a fan before the population in this alleyway is reduced to zero.

He drops down in that alleyway and lands with a kick already swinging. His booted foot comes straight out and smashes into a gangsters chest, hurtling him backwards and through an open window into the building. There's a good chance it wont save him if the rocket hits its target, but Nightwing clearly doesn't intend for it too. His head cants upwards, a pair of wing-dings clutched between his fingers.

There's no way he'll be able to hurl them far enough to detonate it safely above their heads. So when he does hurl them, there's still a very good chance that it will take out the roofs of both buildings to either side of them. Unless the wing-ding works.

Both are meant to tag the rocket, but one sends off an EMP burst about a foot wide. Hopefully firing the electrical components inside.

In case it doesn't, he turns and bolts towards another of the goons, dodges to one side so the man's gun follows him, then jukes back and dives into him with his elbows aimed at his solar plexus. Pushing him backwards and throw a side door into one of the buildings stairwells and rolling off to the side in case things get intense (and explodey) outside.

Intense and explodey are both /excellent words/ for what happens next, as things explode in an intense fashion. Deadpool whoops and tosses the expended rocket out the window, stooping and rummaging around where nosy Bat players can't see what his hands are doing. "With my twinkishly overpowered skills in either Go Ninja or Assassin, I can't decide which Crazy like a Fox, perhaps?  No, Gunslinger! Guns are the solution to all problems!  I can deduce that three ninja type Player Characters, one of them potentially of the /sexy/ variety, are on approach." Deadpool chintaps, waiting for the last minute. "Who calls them wing-dings, anyway? Batarangs sounds so much cooler. Maybe I have some PoolARangs." Deadpool reaches into a pocket and pulls out a rock, then kind of limp-arm throws it at Nightwing. "Hah! Eat PoolARang! I bet Batman loves you least of all! Also, you smell terrible! And yes, I read your +finger!" Deadpool shouts down at Nightwing.

"Wait, I was doing something. Something.... cool." He puts on a fez and bow tie. "Right, because fez's are cool. Come and get me, BatBoys and possible BatGirl type archetypes! Wakka wakka!" Deadpool stooge-dances away from the window and into the shadows.

Huntress shields her eyes from the glare of the explosion at the expense of her hearing, then aims to take another shot at the now fez and bowtie-wearing weirdo over there. He's out of the window before she can take the second shot, though. "Damnit, sniper up top. You two okay?" Of course, with the way that rocket-thing exploded, there's no telling if they'll even be able to hear her.

There is no batarang thrown but instead a knife is thrown right in the direction that Darkwing saw the missile coming from. "Whoever it is, I want to get my hands on them. I've been waiting hours for them to make a move and could have gotten killed. They're sloppy and unprofessional." Yes. He's critique an assassination. Deal with it. "Nightwing, you ok?" He asks grumpily as he swings down to the ground.

So there's that.

The explosion goes off like explosions often do. The wall eats some of it, but not nearly enough to call this a good evening. Nightwing brings an armored arm up to protect the side of his unarmored face when bits of brick and plaster fly inward and rain down upon himself and the gangster he just 'saved'.

The words 'why did you bother' and 'because it seemed like a good idea at the time' run through his head while his ears are still ringing from being only a few feet away from a rocket going boom.

Character development.

That's what he'd call this is he had any idea what a fourth wall was or any inclination to break it.

"Define okay..." He says into his comm, coughing up bits of dust and pushing a rather large chunk of concrete out of his way. Because he hid from the explosion under some stairs.

After pushing up to his feet and looking down at the half face of a gangster staring up at him, he's getting hit in the head with a rock. Right at the corner of his left eye... "are you fucking serious..." holding the side of his head and kneeling over to clear the foggy vision.

Deadpool peeks around the corner, then throws his fists into the air. "Hah! Epic! I bet I couldn't do that twice if I tried!"

Another rock goes sailing past.

Deadpool grunts and looks at his left arm. "Ow. Hey, that was a hell of a throw. I'm what, three stories up?" He takes the knife and carefully puts it in a pocket. "But far be it from me to question the laws of reality, which I break arbitrarily." He pauses a beat, surveying the situation with a slight frown.

It's then that two arrows hit him- one, two, both in his upper chest. "Oh wow, arrows! Actual arrows! This would be a really scary fight if we were in, say, a Robin Hood epic!" He cups his hands over his mouth, shouting at Huntress. "Would you say you're more of a BatFam member or a Green Arrow kid who's mixed up with the wrong superhero patriarchy? Would you like to fill out a survey of some kind? Given that you're female and probably a superheroine, and therefore, hot, would you like to go out with me?"

"Also, seriously, I've been up here for like- three rounds now. I bet if Superman had unloved offspring of some kind, they'd be all up inz by now. I'm just saying!"

Deadpool produces a heavy barreled machine gun, lifts it to his shoulder, and promptly starts raking Huntress' position with hot lead, brass clattering to the ground with the chatter of the bolt slamming back and forth. "Also, they call this escalation of force! You've forced me to escalate! Get it?"

Deadpool hastily scratches on a giant piece of poster board: "I AM MOCKING YOU. ESPECIALLY NIGHTWING." *erase erase* I UNDERSTAND THAT YOU HAVE FOUL FOOT FUNGUS. AND YOUR MOTHER IS OVERWEIGHT.

"Oh my god, SHUT UP!" Huntress all but screams back at this really annoying jerk of a... hoshit. She ducks and scrambles to get clear when she sees Deadpool brandish the machine gun, flinching as the spray of bullets kicks up bits of brick and roofing material WAY too close for comfort. She switches out the wooden bolts in her crossbow for the heavier steel quarrels, waiting for a chance to take another shot at the lunatic across the way. Because, seriously? Asking her to go out? Sure, dude. Let's go out, so I can DECAPITATE YOU between the main entree and the dessert. Jerk.

Yeah. Deadpool is definitely on Darkwing's bad list. He takes to the roofs and works on getting over to deal with the man. Rushing isn't done, but rather the young teen is doing his best to move silently and blend in with his surroundings. There will have to be an explanation for Batman and this time Darkwing is NOT responsible for mass injury.

Nightwing shakes the cobwebs out and glances around at what was an alleyway not too terribly long ago. At the pieces of meat that use to be a real living gangster thrown every where like chum on the ocean. He reaches down and picks up a hunk of brick that use to be a wall.

Grapple gun from off the utility belt fires towards the roof and pulls him on the coil over the lip of an apartment one over from where the rocket was propelled, rolling up and running towards the door in the direction of the machine gun fire.

The former boy wonder runs straight at the wall where it curves around and jumps towards it. One foot plants and his body turns into the throw, sending the piece of brick at Deadpool, then all the way around to push him back down the hall he'd just come from.

Deadpool's enjoying the repartee between himself and Huntress too much to notice the brick flying at his face. "Glack!"

Deadpool falls back out of sight, the machine gun still chugging and sending a spray of bullets into the ceiling of the little room.

"Ow! My one weakness! Solid objects to the face! Curse you!"

The barrel of the machine gun sticks out of the tower and more or less at random sprays bullets into the street, though Deadpool is well hidden in the shadows. Maybe that's his superpower, hurling things? "I think it's more of a skill. And let's be fair, I think that's the dude we hit with that rock." I guess we had that one coming, then. Did the chick just tell us to shut up? "I'm sorry, I wasn't listening," Deadpool comments aloud, carrying on the self conversation. "I was thinking about tacos just now."

Huntress takes the moment of the machine gun fire hitting somewhere other than too close to her to take a quick look, then fire a quarrel at the first thing she spots -- the tip of that machine gun. Maybe if she gets a really effing lucky shot, her quarrel will jam the automatic weapon. She's not Hawkeye, after all, that kind of shot for her would have to be luck.

Quiet and stealthily, Darkwing makes his way up to the tower that Deadpool is hiding in. He keeps radio silence though for the time being. He doesn't particularly want to dodge a machine gun at this close of a range. His blue eyes are taking stock of the area, even as he palms one of his batarangs of the electrical variety. He doesn't have many but some.

Nightwing has to play by the laws of reality, but in his reality, he's a detective trained by Batman and Deadpool is a loud mouth that gives him plenty of things to deduce. So he rolls down the hallway and slides into one of the rooms of the apartment. When he speaks it's through his comms, but also loud enough to be heard in the relatively empty building once the machine gun stops temporarily.

"So, this guy is special, amirite? I mean like football bat, all hands on sandwich, special..." Creeping along the wall, "Not sure what all this 'character' business he was talking about is, but I suspect he's one of those Dungeon and Dragon players." Smirking to himself and glancing out the window, canting his head to look along the ledge.

"I'm judging by his 'character' he's probably PTSD. Knows a ton about guns too with that rocket reference." Grabbing the fire escape and pulling himself out on the ledge. "Probably REMF though. His sort always gravitate towards sarcasm. Hide the fact that they're about as 'real soldier' as a bottle of mustard."

Into the next room and a little closer to where Deadpool is shooting.

Huntress is not /that/ lucky, but she's a good shot. Also, we like her player! The shot hits the barrel of the machine gun, causing the stream of bullets to leave a long arc of tracers over the Gotham night, the rounds- unbeknownst to all the characters- absolutely /ruining/ the stock of the local Volkswagen dealership.

"Ah, sho ve are playing amateur psychologist, ja?" comes Deadpool's voice from inside the room. "I'll have you know I served with Colonel Sanders in the great condiment wars! I've sailed with Cap'n Morgan in the rum wars! And you Bat-tastic types are ones to talk! 'Hurr, luukit me, I am the night!' 'Fear my ninja skills, for I trained in secret for years as a somewhat competent nonlethal alternative!' " Deadpool chortles, then there's a sound like someone just ate three tacos at once. "mmmph. I bet you don't even get /tacos/. You probably eat, like, rabbit food. Salads, and whatever it is rabbits eat. Maybe other rabbits, I don't know."

"Seriously though, these tacos are /awesome/. I give my sidekick tacos /all the time/, even when she's all 'Deadpool, I don't want more tacos!' or 'Deadpool, it's two AM, why are you here with tacos!' or 'Deadpool, this is a hot dog cart, stop choking the guy for tacos!'"

"Man, I seriously want some tacos. Hey, if I order tacos, will you guys all chip in? Don't pull my leg, I don't want to get stuck with the bill like the /last/ time I ordered tacos. Batman totally said he didn't want any, then the taco truck got here 'cause I kind of stole it, and then he was all 'we don't get tacos this way', and then I had to eat 'em all."

"So seriously though, tacos- yes, no?"

What the HELL is this freak going on about? Huntress rushes for the edge of her rooftop and scrambles to get to the next rooftop over, knowing her crossbow bolts lose accuracy the further she is from her target. Thank the powers that be that she can't hear Fez the Freak over there talking about tacos. 'Cause she missed dinner, damnit, and she's hungry.

Quiet as he can, Darkwing activates the electrical batarang and throws it in a single smooth movement from his hiding spot at the freak with the big mouth, "Do not speak of my father you scum!" He says angrily, letting his temper show as he palms a couple knives. He wishes he'd brought his actual sword with him tonight so that he could cut this guy right and proper.

"Seriously, if someone trains as a ninja at Walmart they're doing it wrong and I have never said 'I am the night'..." Nightwing scoffs, darting out of the room and down the hall towards the room where he'd last heard gunfire. "Darkwing, have you ever once uttered that you were the night? Sounds like something they would say in a cartoon, honestly." Bobbing his head in a 'suddenly getting it' way, "Which doesn't surprise me with this guy... Did all your best training in his parent's basement, did ya? You had a thing for Bugs Bunny in lipstick?" Mildly accusatory.

An adhesive explosive is put on the wall leading into the last place he's at least moderately sure there was someone shooting. "You don't have to hide it anymore... We'll be Jack to your Robert Paulson. Talk it out big guy..." The timer is set and Nightwing is running, silently for a ninja, away from the resulting explosion.

"Hey, anyone else suddenly get this weirdly campy sense of foreboding? Like Adam West is listening to everything you say?" BaZOINK! The batarang soars into the window above where the machine gun is still chattering, clattering against something inside the room. At that precise moment, Nightwing's explosives go off, shattering a portion of the wall and creating a massive cloud of dust. The SAW chatters a few more times, then goes silent, and in the resounding silence of the blast, muted, comes garbled moans, as if suffocated by the concussive blast and the dust.

"Finally," Huntress mutters as the machine gun stops, turning to head for where the weirdly low-yield explosion just went off. She races across the rooftop she's on but stops behind the last bit of cover to make sure that no one's going to shoot at her before she proceeds. Nothing? Good. Maybe one of the Bat-ilk finally managed to shut him up.

The explosive isn't enough to reach Darkwing where he's crouched. "I think I am going to find someone to beat on... Since Batman would prefer it not be Robin, I think I shall find a good fight." He says before he begins swinging off. He doesn't have any intention of sticking around to see if the man was killed or injured. He'll leave that to Nightwing and Huntress, even Drake couldn't screw this up.

Metaphysico-theologo-cosmolo-nigology, Nightwing is suddenly a student of Dr. Pangloss when he hears the explosion go off and the resulting silence of the machine gun being replaced by the moaning of someone inside the room.

At first he doesn't even want to go look, but this guy just fired a rocket at a bunch of criminals (and Nightwing) and was firing his SAW out the window into traffic... So he knows that he has to.

Each step is measured, slow, and quietly bringing him to the edge of the blasted wall. "Stand by on calling Emergency response." Rattling off the address back to Alfred in the Batcave for routing to the police as he peeks around the corner into the dust settling room.

Deadpool's disembodied voice comes out of nowhere, choking dust filling the room. "One thing, one thing you never, ever put into a trap, if you're smart, if you're very, very smart...."

The SAW is stuck under a pile of rubble, a ratchet strap tied around the trigger. A partially inflated sex doll is deflating slowly in the middle of the room. Deadpool's voice echoes from all corners of the room at once. "...is The Doctor. Or, also, me."

There's an odd sussurance of noise from behind Huntress and Deadpool literally pops out of the shadows. A foot rises and falls in a crescent kick aimed to connect under her left ear, a debilitating strike meant to incapacitate almost instantly, and a katana flicks towards Huntress' throat, stopping just shy of breaking the skin. Measured strikes designed to stun and control, not kill.

Deadpool's other hand comes out from the small of his back with a small remote detonator in his grip, and his mask stretches in a smile. "I hope you have... BatSurance?"

A chain of demolition charges go off inside the room, packed into cupboards and under sinks and one of them cleverly disguised as a book, with 'Deadpool And the Man in the Yellow Hat!' written on it in crayon.

Deadpool looks down at Huntress' prostrate form. "BatSurance? That was weak. Sorry!" he yells towards the unoccupied roost. "I can do better, come back to me on that one!"

"Maybe something with, uh, Bat EOD? I don't know, I don't usually work blue." Tacos! No wait, I've got it- BatBombRepellent!

"How do we feel about BatBombRepellent? Are we still getting that Adam West vibe?"

Huntress is about to move to get to that building over there when she hears the odd noise. It's the only warning she gets, and it's not nearly enough. At least this time she managed to NOT let go of her crossbow. The prick of something dangerously sharp touching her neck keeps her from moving, even if doing so didn't feel like she'd end up puking up the dinner she DIDN'T eat. "... the fuck're you talking about?" Okay, so she won't win any awards for eloquence.

This is why he crept up because Nightwing just got the kind of vibe off Deadpool that even if he were dying, he'd be rambling. Then get into some sort of half brained argument with Death about how he rolled his save on a constitution check.

The point is, Nightwing wasn't buying that Deadpool was dead... or even all that hurt. So when the bombs start going off after the flashy display of martial artistry, the former Boy Wonder sucks his teeth in a distinctly, 'I told you so' way that will only really matter to himself.

The first bomb goes off and he's running in the other direction. The second and he's juking away from the wall that just flew out at him and half spin, half rolling beneath it. The remainder have all but destroyed the structural integrity of the building and caused the floor to start caving in beneath him (because this dictates appropriately dramatic or why the hell else would Nightwing be leaving?)

He dives as the last bit of the floor falls from under foot and smashes against the wall trying to grab hold and finding the carpet offers little in the way of handholds. Falling backwards off the edge and straight down onto the next floor down in a painful heap of rubble across the small of his back.

If any other bats are in the area, Nightwing has definitely set off a distress alarm on his gauntlet. Rallied through Oracle if need by. He's done all he can for one night and while he feels mildly like his first scene ends with him being a chump, it's 3am and there's work in 7 hours.

Deadpool watches Darkwing swing off into the shadows, and the top story of the apartment building collapse in on itself. He hunkers down, peering at Huntress, and rubs his jaw contemplatively. "I'm not gonna lie, that worked out /perfect/," Deadpool informs the archess. "Like, bam. Squish. I'm really bored lately, you know? I mean, /really bored/," he explains to the woman. "I'd love to go another round with the Bat. Just because, y'know, why not? Maybe this'll get him to stir his stumps and throw down with The Situation. I'm calling myself The Situation now," he explains, adjusting his fez. "And I'm still wearing the fez. Fezs are cool," he informs Huntress. "How'd I do? Scale of 1 to 10, 10 being perfectly executed, 1 being something that a hero in his first cameo appearance in someone else's comic would have done. Be honest- we appreciate positive feedback here at Deadpool Corps."

Huntress flinches at the sound of the first of the bombs going off, hissing and keeping still when her reaction makes the tip of Deadpool's sword draw blood. "You fucking bastard." As much as she ALMOST said it, she keeps the 'if you hurt one hair' cliche comment to herself. "That fez makes you look phallic, and not in the good way." Maybe if she distracts him she can try to get clear. Now if only her ear would stop ringing.

"There's a /bad/ way to look phallic?" Deadpool sounds a bit baffled. "And hey! no name calling. What would your boss think?" He clucks under his tongue. "I don't let /my/ sidekick use that kind of language. Then again, my sidekick is super smart, and she gets tacos. No tacos for you," he informs Huntress, munching down on one with his free hand. "How you wanna play this? I mean it's late, if you want me to just, like, let you go so you can pose out, that's cool. Or we can fight, or like, talk. We never talk anymore! I think it's because you never call to see how I'm doing. Makes me sad," he sniffles. "I guess I could do something hilarious, like, truss you up and hang you from a billboard in the middle of Gotham. How'd you feel about that?" he asks Huntress, plopping his full 300+ pounds of muscle and guns onto her back and using her as a convenient padded seat. "Wow! You do /not/ curve in all the comfy places," he grouses, squirming back and forth and keeping a hand on the katana angled across her neck. "It's like sitting on a rock. U even lift bro?" he asks.

Pose out? What the fuck does that mean? Huntress looks rather thoroughly confused now, but not for long. She OOFs and actually starts to growl in annoyance as Deadpool actually has the audacity to COMMENT on how comfortable she is as a SEAT. It DOES, though, put his ASS into very conveniently close range of her crossbow. Keep wiggling, jerk.

Deadpool's phone rings. "Hello?" he says, flipping it open, because cool people still have flip phones. "Hey, boss! What's up?" He covers the mouthpiece and leans towards Huntress. "It's my writer," he whispers hoarsely. "What, time for bed? Wussy! This girl, she can go /all night/!" He elbows Huntress in the ribs several times. "Eh? Eh? Ahhhhh, forget it. Ok, wrapping it up." Deadpool hangs up the phone and flips it around, putting his head next to Huntress' and putting little bunny ear fingers behind her head. "Smile for the camera!" *click* "Awesome. This is going /right/ in the middle of Gotham." He ruffles Huntress' hair and bounds to his feet, the katana vanishing into the scabbard. "Well, it's been real, but I gotta bounce. You tell your... bros... that if they wanna, uh, throw down, they should go cry to their /dad/ and have him come play. 'cause it's been brought, wrapped, served up and set on the table!"


 * crickets*

"Hey, I'm tired. Don't judge me. Fine, I'm leaving!"

BAMF.

BAMF. "Also, y'know, if you wanna get some coffee sometime, y'know, just, like, call me, or whatever."

BAMF.

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Message: 11/6                     Posted        Author

Billboard Pic? Sun Jul 21   Gotham Gazette

-=--=-

There's a giant picture of a man in a black and red mask cheek to cheek with the vigilante known as Huntress. She's obviously restrained, uncomfortable, and /extremely/ upset, given her expression, and the masked man- known to some as Deadpool- is giving her little bunny ears in the photo. Twelve electronic billboards across Gotham, the big twenty foot ones, now sport that image. Many wonder /why/ someone would do that, and most citizens have no idea who or what the people are. The most popular theory is that it's some kind of viral marketing campaign aimed at Batman, with "Hey Bats!" captioned in one corner.

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