Bunny Girls

"Dude, you owe me an arm!" Deadpool yelled, lifting his remaining good arm and thrusting forward with his sword, undeterred by the blood dripping from his shoulder.

The scene was intense. Deadpool charged toward his severed limb, barely fazed by the blood loss. The crowd watching was horrified—some even fainted, while others stared in shock. It was like a twisted horror flick, the kind that sticks in your mind long after you walk out of the theater.

Who was this freak? Couldn't he be killed? Did he not feel pain?

"Stand still, little dude!" Deadpool taunted, grinning beneath his mask. "Watch me throw ash in your eyes—best tip I ever got from a buddy!" He jabbed and slashed, three wild attacks in quick succession. But with the AI autopilot guiding him, his movements lacked the instinct and precision of a real fighter. The shadowy figure he was fighting moved with effortless grace, dodging each attack.

As Deadpool swung for a third time, his opponent struck, tapping the blunt side of his blade with a perfectly timed flick. There was a loud bang, as if the air itself had burst, and Deadpool's blade shattered, splintering into two pieces.

In the original comics, Deadpool sometimes pulled out rare Adamantium blades or custom-made weapons for special missions. But typically, his dual swords were just high-grade alloys—not indestructible, not mystical. Just sharp, reliable steel.

Through his mask, Deadpool's eyes scrunched into a dramatic expression of shock and rage.

"Dude, you broke my sword! Oh, it's on now. It's personal."

Suddenly, Batman dropped from the rafters, silent as a shadow, his boots aimed squarely at Deadpool's opponent. Meanwhile, Charlie, nearby, had just finished dispatching the remaining threats flagged in detective mode. Catching sight of Deadpool in trouble, he swooped in.

The figure, still engaged with Deadpool, didn't notice Batman's approach until he heard the rush of air and the faint flutter of a cape. Instinctively, he turned, crossing his arms in front of him just as Batman struck, the force sending him reeling backward.

Batman straightened, adjusting his stance. He raised his grapple gun and fired, the claw latching onto the figure mid-air. With a swift tug, Batman pulled him back down to earth.

The figure twisted, trying to counterattack, but Batman anticipated it, deflecting the blow with precise timing before delivering a brutal elbow to the face. The shadowy opponent flew back, crashing into a nearby table that splintered under him. The onlookers shrieked, pressing themselves against the walls to avoid getting caught in the crossfire.

"Batman?" someone gasped from the crowd.

Activating detective mode, Charlie could now see clearly in the dark—his opponent was Felix, or rather, a projection of Felix.

Felix, looking out of place in a sleek evening suit, was staring at Deadpool and Batman with pure bewilderment.

"So… this freak in red tights—is he infected?" Felix asked, wide-eyed. "Wait, is he with you guys?"

"Have you ever seen an infected guy this charming?" Deadpool retorted, tossing his broken sword pieces to the ground with a theatrical huff.

Felix hesitated, eyes darting from Deadpool's costume to his recently severed, rapidly regrowing limb. His mind raced, trying to make sense of it all. With the wild outfit, the nonsensical taunts, and a healing factor that defied logic, Deadpool was understandably mistaken for some kind of infected super-soldier.

Finally realizing Deadpool was an ally, Felix's eyes darted back to the stump where Deadpool's arm had been. The bloody tissue was already stitching itself back together, regenerating at an unnatural pace.

"You owe me an arm," Deadpool said, unfazed. "Oh, and my sword—that thing wasn't cheap, y'know?"

"Sorry, I had no idea…" Felix mumbled, visibly uncomfortable. "I'll… uh, I'll make it up to you."

"Forget it. He'll be fine," Batman said coolly. "What are you doing here, anyway?"

Felix nodded, focusing. "I'm investigating something. Personal business, not related to the Ninth Special Service. Followed a lead here."

While Felix spoke, his projection dissolved, but he still glanced nervously at Deadpool's arm, now almost fully regrown. At this rate, Deadpool would be back in action before the paramedics even arrived.

"We'll catch up later," Batman said. "For now, we've got work to do."

Charlie hadn't forgotten their mission. The nightclub was now cleared of marked targets—it was time to track down the manager.

The tension in the hall was palpable. People steered clear of the trio, not wanting to be involved. Deadpool, of course, took the opportunity to give a passing wave to a couple of bunny girls, who shrieked in shock.

In his office, Ken, the club manager, sat at his desk, a slight, bald man with gold-rimmed glasses. His bodyguard had gone out to face the gunfire, leaving him alone. The handgun he kept in his desk drawer remained untouched; he knew better than to play hero now.

When the door shattered open, Ken straightened, trying to look calm.

"Welcome," he said, forcing a smile. "What brings someone like Batman to a small place like mine?"

Batman's response was a silent glare.

Ken swallowed, quickly adding, "I'm sure we can discuss this like civilized men—"

Batman grabbed him by the collar and threw him to the ground.

Ken groaned, dazed as Batman leaned over him.

"Someone's targeting Tony Stark," Batman's voice was low and cold. "I need a name."

Ken spluttered. "I don't—I don't know! We're just middlemen, Batman. You know the business. Some clients value their privacy, and we don't ask questions!"

Batman's glare hardened as he snapped one of Ken's fingers.

Ken screamed, his face pale as sweat beaded on his brow.

Still writhing in pain, Ken forced a strained smile. "I know your code, Batman. You don't kill. But if I talk, I'll be dead anyway. So whatever you do, I won't talk."

Batman paused, expression unreadable, then took a step back.

"You're right. I don't kill," he said icily.

"But he does."

Deadpool's eyes sparkled with excitement. "Finally! It's my time to shine!"

With a flourish, he drew his other sword, the silver blade catching the light, casting a gleam across the room.

"Oh no! No, wait—ahhhh!"