(Under the radiant embrace of the sun, a cloudless sky extends its limitless blue canvas over a lively scene below. The streets, adorned with the footsteps of anticipation, echo with the joyous laughter and chatter of children accompanied by their parents. A palpable sense of excitement permeates the air, as families navigate the bustling thoroughfares, each step a testament to the vibrant energy coursing through the community. The sun, casting its warm glow upon the scene, seems to paint a tableau of togetherness and shared anticipation. Parents engage in animated conversations with their little ones, each dialogue a mosaic of dreams and expectations. In this harmonious symphony of joy, the city streets become a stage for the unfolding drama of familial bonds and the promise of delightful adventures that lie ahead.)
"Sheesh, Yellow you here to rub salt on my wounds?"
{Yeah Yellow...}
(What's the problem with this narration?!}
{You talk about family bonds and how the parents are proud of their kids about joining a new school year when we are alone!}
(Oh... Yeah my bad)
{I mean, seriously, it's like hosting a pity party, and I'm the only one invited!}
{More like a pity solo, even Blind Al ditched this soiree.}
"Yeah, yeah, family bonds, the joy of school, blah blah. My life is a one-man circus, and the tent is looking pretty damn empty," I muttered, rolling my eyes. "At least Blind Al is around, though she probably hates me. You know, because of the whole kidnapping thing. Classic mix-up, really."
===
Strolling through the bustling streets, I found myself caught in the vibrant tapestry of life. Kids, with their backpacks slung over tiny shoulders, skipped off to school. Adults, like a herd of well-dressed penguins, marched to the beat of their 9-to-5 drum. And in the midst of this everyday chaos, people flaunted their quirks like the grand finale of a mutant carnival.
I watched in amusement as a man conjured ice cream out of thin air and handed it to a grinning kid. A guy, undoubtedly late for the bus, unfurled wings with the grace of a disgruntled angel. And then there was the mom – the superhero next door – using her healing quirk to erase the pain from her son's clumsy misadventure.
"Mmm, healing quirk..." I mused aloud, a tinge of sadness underlying the sarcasm. "Do you think my mother had a healing quirk?"
{Probably not.}
(Yeah, we got ours from Weapon X.)
{Technically Department K.}
(But Weapon X are the ones that injected Wolverine's DNA into ours.)
{Yeah, but we developed it after the experiments in Department K.}
(Yeahhh, but...)
"Guys, shaddap," I interjected, cutting off the endless bickering between the voices in my head. A brief moment of silence ensued, the only sound being the distant hustle and bustle of the city.
(Okay.)
{Okay.}
As I continued my aimless stroll, I couldn't shake the thought of my mother. The woman who had given me life, love, and a genetic cocktail that turned me into the walking enigma I am today. But in the twisted dance of experiments and memory wipes at Weapon X and Department K, the details of my past remained hazy, like a puzzle missing crucial pieces.
I found myself pondering whether she possessed a healing quirk, whether she had the ability to erase the pain she might have witnessed in her scarred son. But the answers were elusive, buried beneath layers of experimentation and the haze of forgotten memories. It was a somber realization, the juxtaposition of a chaotic existence against the backdrop of a mother's love lost to the shadows of my own fragmented past.
===
(Now my turn to narrate!)
{Not fair! I want to narrate. I never got to narrate, and it's already chapter 8!}
(Urgh... Okay, White.)
{Yay!}
{Okay, so like, we, uh, walk. Yeah, we're walking in the, uh, street, yeah. And then, like, there are people, and, like, we hear people talk and all that, and, like—}
(For God's sake, White!)
{What?}
(You suck.)
{Wha- Hey! No, I do not!}
"Yeah, sorry, White. I gotta agree with Yellow here."
{WHAT?}
(Yeah, White, you are banned from narrating ever again.)
{But—}
"No buts!"
(Hehe, butts...)
{Ha.}
(Haha.)
{HAHAHA.}
(HAHAHAHAHA.)
{HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA.}
(HAHAHAHAHA-)
"GUYS! SHUT THE FUCK UP ALREADY!" I bellowed at the voices in my head. People started turning their heads, and I began to panic. I never liked it when people are looking at me, so I started to run.
"Urgh! Shit! It's all YOUR fault!"
(What?)
{Yeah! What did we do?!}
"YOU'RE annoying!"
{Yeah, you got a point.}
(Agreed.)
As I sprinted down the street, my annoyance morphed into pure Deadpool-style frustration. I grumbled to myself, "Stupid voices in my head, making me look like a lunatic. I've got a reputation to uphold, you know!"
Meanwhile, Yellow and White continued their uncontrollable laughter in my mental soundscape. It seemed they found some unexplainable joy in the word "butt." As if on cue, they burst into another round of laughter, escalating into a symphony of cackles that only Deadpool's fractured mind could orchestrate.
"Enough with the butt jokes! Seriously, guys?" I muttered, glancing around to see bewildered onlookers who probably thought I was talking to invisible friends. I tried to regain my composure but failed miserably.
My frustration reached its peak, and I couldn't take the judgmental gazes any longer. With a theatrical sigh, I pointed at the voices in my head. "See? It's all their fault!" I declared to no one in particular. And then, as if escaping a horde of zombie fans, I continued running, leaving behind a confused and amused crowd on the street.
As I disappeared around the corner, I heard Yellow and White continue their laughter in my head, echoing in the Deadpool-induced chaos of my mind. "Never a dull moment," I muttered to myself, wondering if I'd ever get used to the madness that accompanied being the Merc with a Mouth.
===
Finally, I reached my destination—UA High School, the one and only. In front of me loomed a colossal structure shaped like an H, adorned with white and light blue windows that seemed to be gossiping about the students within. Guarding this fortress of education was a concrete fence, a stalwart defender against whatever the chaotic world outside might throw at it. The grand entrance was marked by a big blue gate, its yellow letters spelling out the enigmatic A inside a U.
("'AU'? I thought we were joining UA?")
"It says 'UA,' stupid."
(Ohhhh)
{Wait, if they want to guard the school, why did they put a big fence? Like what if a super-villain has a flying quirk?}
(Mmmm... Good question)
I stood there, contemplating the paradox of a school so concerned about security that it erected a fortress around itself. "Maybe they're worried about a mutant giant mole invasion," I suggested, my tone dripping with Deadpool's signature blend of sarcasm and absurdity.
(Or perhaps they're just trying to keep the school supplies from escaping! You never know when those textbooks might develop wings and fly away!)
{Yeah, because textbooks are notoriously rebellious.}
(Exactly! Watch out for those rebellious calculus books. They'll plot a quadratic revolution when you least expect it!)
As I chuckled to myself, the realization hit me—I was about to step into the chaotic world of UA High School, a place where superheroes-in-training honed their quirks and studied to become the next generation of defenders.
"Guyssss."
{What?}
"What if something bad is going to happen when I get in?"
{Like what?}
"Like-like... What if I will learn something!"
(Gasp)
(I don't wanna learn something!)
"Yeah!" I declared dramatically, as if the very thought of acquiring knowledge was anathema to my existence.
{But if we won't join, we will be in jail.}
"Look, is jail really this bad?" I pondered aloud, my mind flirting with the absurdity of becoming the Merc with a Cage.
{YES!}
"Urgh!" I grumbled theatrically, realizing I had no more options. "Fine, fine, we'll join the school of superhero shenanigans. But mark my words, this better not involve any algebra or trigonometry. I have a reputation to uphold, and it's not 'Deadpool, the Mathematical Marvel.'"
{Marvel is another universe.}
"Oh, shut up, Yellow. You know what I mean." I rolled my eyes at the voices in my head, wondering how on earth I got stuck with a pair of backseat narrators who had a penchant for taking things way too seriously.
"Well time to actually start the story!"
(Yeah the writer just wrote 8 all chapters and nothing happened so far!)
-Hey! Not cool-Writer
===
End of chapter 3
sorry that this one is short but next chapter I promise to keep intesting!