The battlefield looked like it had been slapped with a flame tornado and a wrecking ball. Shou-Lao, the massive, fire-breathing dragon, had decided it was his turn to ruin everyone's day. His flames danced across the landscape like they were auditioning for a pyrotechnics show, scorching the earth in every direction. Harry—still Harry, though possibly slightly more terrifying in this new form—wasn't about to be outdone.
The emerald glow of his eyes flared against the backdrop of chaos, a smile curling at the corner of his lips. It wasn't a comforting smile. More like the "I've just realized I'm about to make everyone really uncomfortable" kind of grin. The gods, spread across the divine halls of Asgard and Olympus, leaned in with interest, and in some cases, horror.
"Oh no," Artemis said under her breath, the familiar bite of annoyance creeping into her tone. She sat forward in her silver throne, her long bow resting across her knees like a ready weapon. The glint in her silver eyes mirrored her thoughts—"He's going to do something utterly ridiculous." She looked exactly how you'd imagine if Artemis was played by Bryce Dallas Howard, poised but with a hidden ferocity bubbling under the surface.
Loki, leaning casually against a pillar in the grand hall of Asgard, watched with an almost wicked glee. "Ridiculous?" he repeated, a grin spreading across his features like it was the most delightful thing he'd ever heard. "Artemis, darling, have a little faith. Ridiculous is his strategy. It's about to get spectacular."
Back on the battlefield, Harry's movements were anything but graceful—he was struggling to maintain his balance as the immense power surged within him. Well, that's what you get when you decide to make a dragon-sized dragon fight a god-level god. But Harry—half-Asgardian, half-Olympian, and full-on chaotic—took a deep breath, closed his eyes for a second, and muttered something in a language that sounded like it belonged in a mad scientist's lab. A bit of Asgardian runes and Olympian tongue-twisters that probably shouldn't be able to coexist in one sentence, but Harry was always one for bending the rules.
A glow surrounded him—bright enough to make even the sun squint—and then, with a ripple of energy, it happened.
He grew. Not like "yup, I'm a little taller now" grown. No, Harry grew big. The kind of big that made even Thor blink and wonder if he should start charging rent for the space Harry now occupied. His muscles bulged out of control, and his skin darkened into a rock-like charcoal gray, glowing with an eerie blue light. Spines burst from his back, sharp and intimidating. His head elongated into a massive snout, lined with teeth sharper than any sword.
The roar that followed was so loud it sent shockwaves through the air, like something had just shifted the very nature of the battlefield. Instead of Harry, it was now Godzilla that stood there.
In the divine halls of Asgard, all hell broke loose.
Thor, his mouth hanging open, stared at the orb in front of him. His brows furrowed in a mix of disbelief and admiration. "What... is that?" he asked, his voice thick with confusion. His grip tightened on Mjölnir, just in case, you know, something needed smashing.
Sif, sitting beside him, squinted harder at the display. Her expression mirrored that of someone who had just found out their grocery store was out of stock of every item. "Is that... some sort of dragon? Or...?"
Loki, ever the opportunist, spun Gungnir lazily in his hand and leaned in with the kind of smirk that could only belong to a mischief god. "Oh no, Sif, that's not a dragon," he replied, his voice smooth, like honey laced with sarcasm. "That, my dear, is Godzilla."
Odin, whose stern presence never wavered, narrowed his single eye and leaned forward, his brow furrowed with suspicion. "Explain yourself, Loki. What is this... Godzilla?"
Loki's grin widened, clearly enjoying the opportunity to explain. "Ah, Godzilla. A creature born not of fire or stone, but from the minds of mortals. The King of the Monsters, the mighty destroyer of cities—when he's in a good mood, of course. Think of him as a giant, radioactive lizard with anger management issues and a really unhealthy relationship with skyscrapers."
Thor's eyes widened even further. "And Harry... he decided this was the form he needed?"
Artemis, sitting on her throne in Olympus, rolled her eyes with a mixture of frustration and admiration. "To be fair, he's not wrong," she said, her voice sharp, almost amused. "Godzilla's... effective. Mortals respect him, fear him, and occasionally cheer him on. Harry distilled the chaos of his upbringing into one massive, scaly beast. Very Harry."
Apollo leaned in, the golden glow from his skin casting an almost playful light over his features. "I love it. Harry's out there fighting an ancient dragon with a pop-culture icon. It's genius."
Meanwhile, Zeus sat in his throne, arms crossed, his face scrunched into a permanent frown. He looked less like a father god and more like an irritable retiree who just wanted to be left alone. "This is absurd," he muttered. "What foolishness is this?"
"Foolishness?" Artemis snapped, her silver eyes flashing dangerously. "No, this is strategy, Zeus. Harry doesn't just fight—he outsmarts his enemies. Shou-Lao doesn't know what hit it. That's why he's going to win."
Back on the battlefield, Shou-Lao wasn't taking Harry's new form lying down. The golden dragon roared, flames pouring from its maw with the intensity of a thousand suns. But Harry—or, more accurately, Harryzilla—wasn't fazed. He dug his claws into the earth and let out a roar of his own, an atomic breath so powerful it turned the very ground into a glowing, smoking crater.
Frigga, watching from Asgard, smiled softly, pride blooming in her chest. "He's clever. And bold. Truly, he carries the best of both his parents."
Odin, however, was less impressed. "He also carries the worst," he muttered under his breath.
Frigga's gaze softened, though, her voice warm. "Of course. That's what makes him... Harry."
The battle raged on, each move a calculated risk, each roar a declaration of war. Shou-Lao lunged forward, its massive form a golden blur. But Harryzilla was faster. He grabbed the dragon's neck and slammed it into the earth, sending shockwaves across the landscape. The earth trembled as Godzilla-Harry took on the fire-breathing menace with a strength only a child of both Olympus and Asgard could possess.
"Insane," Artemis muttered, though there was a flicker of pride in her voice.
"Brilliant," Loki added, spinning his knives and eyeing the scene with delight.
The clash of titans continued, and Harry's booming laughter echoed across the battlefield, deep and rumbling.
"Hey, Shou-Lao," Harry called out, his voice vibrating the air around him, "you're not the only one who breathes fire."
And, of course, Harry was right. The rest of the gods, watching from their celestial seats, could only wonder what wild move he'd pull out of his bag of tricks—or scales—next.
—
Back in the heart of the Temple of the Iron Fist, Shou-Lao, the ancient dragon of legend, let out a deep, rumbling chuckle that echoed through the cavernous halls. His golden scales shimmered in the dim light, and for a moment, the beast seemed almost... playful. His great, slanted eyes—sharp and calculating—were fixed on the towering figure of Harry, now transformed into the colossal form of Harryzilla.
"Ah," Shou-Lao's voice, smooth and menacing as silk, rumbled through the temple. It was clear now, this creature wasn't just a beast of wrath—it was one of intellect, a master of ancient knowledge and power. But, just like Harry, Shou-Lao had a mischievous side.
"You see, it's been centuries," Shou-Lao said, his voice suddenly light with amusement, a gleam in his eyes that wasn't quite madness. "I've battled countless foes, crushed armies, torn apart mountains, but... this?" His tail flicked excitedly, a motion that sent rocks skittering across the ground. "This is new. A challenger of my size! An adversary who can actually look me in the eye!"
Harry, still towering like a titan, gave the dragon a toothy grin, one that could only be described as a cocky smirk. "Well, I always like to think I'm full of surprises," he rumbled, his voice a deep growl that caused the very air to tremble. Despite his gargantuan form, Harry's wit still flickered, sharp and unyielding. "Guess I'm not just your average wizard, eh, Shou-Lao?"
The dragon's laughter echoed back in response, the sound rich and musical, tinged with a touch of excitement. "No, no, not just average. Not by a long shot. I've faced the gods themselves, fought warriors with the hearts of lions, but... you, Harry Potter, you are something different." Shou-Lao's tail lashed once more, clearing the ground in front of him, as though preparing for a battle of legends. "A creature born from a storm of magic and divinity, a wild thing of myth and might."
"That's the plan," Harry said, settling into his massive, lizard-like form with a predatory grace, despite the sheer size of it. "Impress the locals and scare the dragon. But, since you seem like a fan of the dramatics, how about we make this really interesting?"
"Interesting?" Shou-Lao's voice lowered, becoming darker. "What do you propose, my dear giant lizard?"
Harry's colossal form began to glow with a golden aura, and he smiled wide. "A challenge," he boomed, flexing his hands, the energy crackling around him. "Let's see which of us can be the most destructive force. You breathe fire, I breathe... this." He reared back and unleashed an atomic blast of energy from his mouth, roaring as the ground beneath his feet cracked and buckled under the sheer force of his power.
Shou-Lao's eyes widened, though there was no fear in them—only fascination and excitement. His great wings flared out, propelling him into the air with a graceful, almost hypnotic motion. "Now, this is the kind of fight I've been waiting for," the dragon purred, his voice now taking on a tone that was almost... playful.
In a blur of golden light and flame, Shou-Lao twisted through the air, his firestorm erupting in response to Harry's atomic breath. The two forces collided with a deafening crack, filling the temple with the screeching clash of raw power.
From the Throne Room of Asgard, a figure watched. It was Phoebe, her eyes narrowed with intense focus. Her hands were curled into fists at her sides, and the usual gentle warmth she exuded had turned into an intense radiance.
"That dragon's getting more than he bargained for," she muttered to herself, lips curling into a grin. "I think Harry's finally going to teach him that even a god can't always control what they unleash."
Back in Asgard and Olympus, the gods watched the chaos unfold through their divine viewing portals, their reactions a mix of awe, horror, and amusement.
Artemis watched intently, her silver eyes gleaming in the soft light of her throne room. Her fingers tapped lightly on the armrest of her seat, her gaze locked on the orb that projected the battle.
"Shou-Lao is finally facing someone who can match his might," she said, her voice laced with respect. Her posture was tense, but there was a pride in her words. "But I think Harry's more than a match for even the likes of him."
Loki, leaning casually against a column, a smirk playing on his lips, raised an eyebrow at Artemis. "You really think so? I mean, I love chaos just as much as the next trickster, but that dragon is ancient. It knows how to fight."
"And so does Harry," Artemis shot back, her tone unwavering. "He's a lot more like us than you think, Loki. When you're raised by gods and chaos, you learn to think outside the box."
Loki gave a low chuckle, clearly enjoying the show. "You're absolutely right, dear Artemis. This is going to be quite the spectacle. I can hardly wait to see who comes out on top."
Back on the battlefield, Harry—now in full Harryzilla mode—took another step forward, his massive clawed feet crashing into the earth, sending shockwaves through the ground.
"You ready for this, Shou-Lao?" Harry roared, his voice booming across the temple as he met the dragon's fiery gaze. "Let's see who's really the king around here."
Shou-Lao's eyes narrowed, and his grin stretched impossibly wide. "I've been waiting for this moment, Harry Potter. Let's see if you can back up your roar." The dragon's massive wings beat against the air, creating gusts that could shatter stone, and with a roar of his own, he dove straight for Harry, his fiery breath ready to meet his foe head-on.
The battle was about to reach its boiling point.
—
The air inside the Temple of the Iron Fist was thick with tension, like the calm before a lightning storm. And then, BOOM! The ground quaked as Harryzilla, the monstrous, scaly incarnation of Harry Lokison, let loose a nuclear roar that turned the sky into a dazzling, explosive fireball. His atomic breath—bright, blinding, and fierce—crashed against the stone pillars, turning them into nothing but molten slag. Seriously, it was like watching a dragon try to roast marshmallows… only in this case, the marshmallow was a centuries-old temple, and the fire was more like a thousand suns.
"Take this, Shou-Lao!" Harryzilla shouted, his voice rattling the very air, his teeth gleaming like skyscrapers in a horror show.
From above, Shou-Lao, the ancient dragon who'd been around long before Harry's ancestors even knew how to tie their sandals, unleashed a roar that sent shivers through the temple's stone foundations. His fiery breath was like the world's most intense BBQ session, but without the fun of grilling burgers. The flames were golden, curling and coiling with dragonish fury, and they met Harryzilla's atomic breath in mid-air, creating an explosion that felt like it could've been felt in the next universe over.
"I'll turn you to ashes, young godling!" Shou-Lao bellowed, eyes glowing like molten lava.
For a second, the two powers clashed—fire versus firepower—until the ground beneath them started to crack, shaking like a soda can after a brutal kick. Harryzilla grinned widely, savoring the sheer chaos of it all. "You sure you're not holding back, old man? I thought dragons were supposed to be all 'tough' and 'invincible' and stuff."
Shou-Lao didn't take kindly to that. With a sudden, earth-shattering beat of his massive wings, he rocketed into the air, soaring above Harryzilla's devastating atomic beam. The ground shuddered beneath his weight as he dived, the dragon's fire curling around him like an ancient firestorm.
Harryzilla, however, wasn't about to let his opponent have all the fun. With a massive tail swipe that could've decimated a mountain range, he sent shockwaves through the temple, clearing the smoke and debris. He twirled in the air, his massive fists crackling with the sheer energy of a thousand lightning bolts, and—WHAM! He slammed into Shou-Lao with the force of a speeding freight train.
"You know," Harryzilla mused, his grin still wide and reckless, "I was really hoping for a challenge. But I guess you're not as tough as they say you are."
Shou-Lao's golden eyes burned brighter, and the dragon let out a rumbling laugh. "You're a brave one, Harry Potter," he said, voice dripping with the weight of centuries. "But you'll find I don't break so easily."
With that, Shou-Lao's claws raked across Harryzilla's side, sending sparks flying. But Harryzilla? Well, he barely flinched. With a snarl, he wrapped his tail around Shou-Lao's midsection, lifting him off the ground like a ragdoll. "Guess what, old dragon? You're about to get a lesson in why you don't mess with the son of Loki and Artemis."
And then—BOOM! Harryzilla's foot crashed into the temple's stone floor, sending shockwaves across the entire building. The walls shook. Rubble fell. The very earth beneath them was begging for mercy.
Shou-Lao roared, retaliating with another burst of fire breath that would've made most mortal beings burst into flames. But Harryzilla was no mere mortal. The flames struck him, searing through his scales like a hot knife through butter. But Harryzilla was already charging forward, unstoppable. His atomic breath surged again, and this time it was different—more focused, more precise, as if the very energy of the cosmos was being channeled through him.
"Not bad, dragon, but let's see if you can handle THIS!" Harryzilla shouted, his voice rising above the din of destruction.
Shou-Lao's golden fire flared, trying to block the blast, but Harryzilla was relentless. The atomic breath tore through the flames, cutting into Shou-Lao's fiery defense like a hot knife through the softest butter. The blast sent the dragon tumbling backward, his wings flapping in desperate attempts to regain control.
The temple's ancient stones cracked and split beneath them. The very ground beneath Harryzilla's massive feet seemed to shudder in fear. And yet—there was no stopping this battle. Not yet. Shou-Lao twisted mid-air, barely avoiding the next blast of atomic breath with a burst of fiery speed. He was fast, yes, but Harryzilla had one thing he didn't—absolute, god-like, unrelenting power.
"You're fast, I'll give you that," Harryzilla said, rolling his shoulders like he was gearing up for a marathon. "But speed's not gonna win you this. Not when I've got the power of a thousand suns."
Before Shou-Lao could counter, Harryzilla's massive form surged forward. With the ferocity of a hundred storms, he leaped into the air, meeting the dragon's descent head-on. His fists collided with Shou-Lao's scales in a shower of sparks. The dragon's claws scraped across Harryzilla's hide, but the blow didn't even slow him down. Harryzilla's hand closed around Shou-Lao's throat, lifting the beast effortlessly off the ground.
The two behemoths were locked in a clash of sheer will, strength, and power—each one trying to overpower the other. The temple around them began to crumble under the strain. Massive chunks of stone plummeted to the ground as the ancient building struggled to withstand the battle.
But Harryzilla was having none of it. With a snarl, he hoisted the dragon higher, his muscles rippling as he slammed Shou-Lao into the stone floor with enough force to send cracks running across the temple's structure. The dragon roared in fury, twisting his body, trying to break free. But Harryzilla's grip was like steel.
"You really think this is over, huh?" Harryzilla said with a smirk, his eyes glowing with the intensity of a star. "I've been through worse than this while sparring with Zoë and Phoebe, buddy."
Shou-Lao's claws dug into Harryzilla's arm, but Harryzilla's strength surged. With a battle cry that echoed across the collapsing temple, he ripped the dragon's claws away and tossed him aside like a ragdoll. "I think I'm getting the hang of this," Harryzilla said with a chuckle.
Shou-Lao, his fiery wings flaring to life, gathered his strength for one final, all-or-nothing assault. "This ends now, Harry Potter!" he bellowed.
And with that, the battle entered its final phase. The fate of the temple, and of the combatants, hung in the balance. Would Shou-Lao's fiery breath triumph over Harryzilla's god-like power? Or would Harry's unrelenting strength and fiery wit be the key to victory?
It was a fight for the ages.
And no one, not even the gods themselves, knew how it would end.
—
The battle between Harryzilla and Shou-Lao continued with the ferocity of a storm. The Temple of the Iron Fist, a marvel of ancient architecture, was slowly being reduced to nothing but rubble beneath the weight of their cosmic clash. It had gone from a place of sacred training to a battleground, where the only thing sacred now was the sheer magnitude of the destruction.
Harryzilla's immense form was covered in glowing scars, each one marking the collision of power between him and the ancient dragon. He moved with a predatory grace, his atomic breath glowing as if he were a living volcano. The ground trembled under his every step, and his massive tail whipped through the air like the force of nature itself. The force of the battle was so intense that the temple began to crumble in earnest, pieces of stone and marble crashing down around them.
Harry grinned wildly, his voice booming as he shouted across the wreckage. "You're tough, Shou-Lao. I'll give you that. But it's gonna take more than fire to stop me!"
Shou-Lao's response was a deafening roar, his golden flames spiraling around him as he soared higher, his wings cutting through the smoke and ash like a comet. His voice, filled with ancient wisdom and battle-worn experience, came booming down like thunder. "You may be powerful, boy. But you're not invincible."
Harryzilla's chest heaved with the thrill of the battle. "Maybe not. But I'll sure give it my best shot!"
As Harry opened his mouth to unleash another wave of atomic destruction, something deep within him stirred. A strange sensation—something older, something primal—swept over him. A shiver of energy raced through his spine. His mutant power, Praedia Baelica, was activating.
It was the power of "Spoils of War." A mutation he had inherited from his godly bloodline, combined with the mystical forces that ran through his veins. It allowed him to absorb and learn the abilities of his opponents when he gained the upper hand. And right now, Harry was winning. He could feel Shou-Lao's strength, the essence of the ancient dragon, starting to seep into him.
He could taste the flames of the dragon's breath, feel the rippling power in the massive wings, the raw, unrelenting fury of the beast himself. It was intoxicating. It was like drinking from a wellspring of untold power.
But just as Harry's form began to grow larger, his scales shimmering with the remnants of Shou-Lao's essence, the dragon's voice echoed in his mind—a voice deeper, older, and filled with the weight of time.
"You are a worthy foe, Haris Lokison," Shou-Lao's voice reverberated in the space around them. "I foresaw this. The day you would claim my power, as is the way of the Spoils. But before I fall... I have one final request."
Harry, still in his monstrous form, looked up, his eyes wide with curiosity. "A request? From you? You're not gonna pull any last-minute tricks, are you?"
The dragon's fiery eyes burned with ancient wisdom. "No trick. You have won, boy. You have proven yourself. Now... use my body... use my essence... to forge your weapon."
Harry blinked, momentarily thrown off balance. "What? Your body? You're not kidding, right?"
Shou-Lao's laughter rumbled through the wreckage of the temple, echoing in Harry's mind like a deep, unsettling growl. "I am not kidding. My body is ancient. My essence is powerful. Use it. Forge a weapon that matches your strength."
Harry's face shifted from a grin to an expression of pure focus. He could feel the power coursing through his veins—he could feel the golden fire of Shou-Lao's breath, the very essence of the dragon itself, coiling around him like a warm embrace.
The dragon's form flickered in the air, as if he was beginning to dissolve, fading like mist in the wind. His voice came one last time, soft yet resolute. "I know what you are capable of, Haris. What you could become. Use my strength... to protect... to create."
With that, the great dragon's form crumbled, leaving only the charred remnants of his enormous body, a hulking mass of ancient scales and burning embers. Harry, still in his larger-than-life form, felt the power surge through him. It was as if the very bones of the dragon had become part of him, infusing him with strength, fire, and fury.
But as Harry's powers grew, so did the toll it took on him. He stumbled forward, his massive body shifting, and in an instant, the immense form of Harryzilla collapsed, reverting to his true age—the size of a ten-and-a-half-year-old boy. The transition was abrupt, and Harry nearly fell to his knees, gasping as the power of the dragon ebbed away from him. He could still feel it, though. The dragon's power was now his to control.
Harry glanced around, the battlefield in chaos, the temple nothing but a pile of rubble and ash. His eyes darted toward the remains of Shou-Lao's colossal form. "Guess I've got a dragon-sized weapon to build now, huh?"
He smirked, the glint of mischief in his eyes. But deep down, he knew that this moment marked a shift in him. He'd claimed more than just a victory today. He had forged a bond with an ancient creature, a dragon whose power would be etched into his very being.
And from the remains of that dragon's body, he would forge a weapon that would shape the future of his quest.
"Looks like it's time for some forge work," Harry said, his voice lighter now, despite the weight of what had just transpired. He could almost hear his father, Loki, laughing in the back of his mind—just as he had when Harry first made his mark on the world.
With a wave of his hand, the dragon's bones, its scales, and its essence swirled together in a dance of fire and light, waiting to be shaped by Harry's newfound abilities, his divine cunning, and his strategic brilliance.
The forge of creation awaited, and Harry—young yet already the weight of gods upon his shoulders—was ready.
One way or another, Shou-Lao had given him everything he needed. Now, it was up to Harry to craft his destiny.
The adventure was far from over.
—
Deadpool peeks his masked face through the screen, his wide grin stretching beneath the red fabric of his mask, his voice dripping with sarcasm and excitement.
"Hello, hello, hello! Welcome back, loyal readers! You've been waiting, haven't you? I know, I know—you're all wondering what happened to Harry. Well, folks, Harry's out of the picture for now. He's off somewhere with his feet kicked up, drinking something that doesn't have a single drop of dragon blood in it—probably just sipping on a milkshake or, hell, maybe he's taking a nap. I mean, look at that kid. He just took down a freakin' dragon. A dragon, people! And now he's probably dreaming of puppies, kittens, or whatever the hell is cute enough to erase that whole 'I just destroyed a mythological beast' vibe."
Deadpool waves off the camera with a lazy flick of his hand as if dismissing Harry's heroic moment, not that he doesn't appreciate it—oh no, Harry's definitely earned that break—but it's time to move on.
"Alright, alright, enough of that kid. Let's get to the fun stuff. You ready to meet the real squad? The team? The heroes of the hour? You better be, because things are about to get real messy. No, not like your average Saturday night mess—this is some next-level, explodey, punching-through-walls kind of stuff. We're going into La Casa Roja to find Francis—aka the villain, who clearly doesn't know how to hide very well, considering he's holed up in a place that literally screams 'I'm a criminal mastermind'—and we're gonna teach him a lesson in why he shouldn't have messed with us. Yeah. Us. Don't act like you're not already excited. I know I am."
He does a little dance, just for the hell of it, shaking his hips before pointing dramatically behind him to his fellow adventurers. His tone shifts to introduce each one.
"First up—let's talk about my best buddy in the world. Logan. Or as I like to call him, 'Mr. Snikt,' 'cause that's all you hear when he's around, right? Snikt! Snikt! Snikt! You know, because the dude's got adamantium claws. Yeah, that's right, claws. He doesn't need a fancy suit or gadgets like some of the other guys. He just picks up a fight and then finishes it. His only weapon? His rage. His temper. And his ultimate grumpiness. Seriously. You think I'm bad? Try hanging out with this guy. He's so cranky, he could out-grumble a bear on a hot day."
Logan, standing off to the side, lights a cheap cigar with an annoyed grunt, exhaling smoke that seems to irritate everyone in a ten-foot radius. He gives Deadpool the patented 'I-don't-give-a-crap' look that only Hugh Jackman's Logan can pull off—stubble-ridden, eyes narrowed, looking like he'd rather be anywhere else.
"Bub," Logan growls, taking a drag on his cigar, "Can we just go already? Got some cigars waiting for me, and maybe a bar fight later. And don't even think about dragging me into some weird, long-winded soliloquy again."
Deadpool, grinning ear to ear, is unfazed.
"Oh, I love it when you talk dirty, Logan. Okay, moving on…!"
Deadpool turns to the next member of the team, running his fingers through his hair like he's about to announce a rockstar.
"Next up, we've got Warren, aka Angel. This guy? He's a freaking celestial killing machine. He can fly, shoot deadly feathers, and probably has some secret cosmic weapon in his back pocket that we haven't even seen yet. And you know what? I bet he doesn't even know how to have a bad day. It's impossible for him. He's got those wings, like, angel wings, so he doesn't have to take the stairs ever. Me? I've got to swing around like a maniac or take an Uber to get anywhere. But Warren? He just flies wherever he needs to go. And you know what? He looks like a model doing it. So unfair."
Warren, with his massive wings unfurling, flaps them for dramatic effect. A gust of wind blows a nearby trash can onto the street, rolling across the pavement as if on cue. He turns to Deadpool, his grin cocky, as usual.
"Let's get this over with, yeah? But don't think I'm saving anyone who doesn't deserve it, Deadpool. No one gets a free pass when I'm in the mood."
Deadpool winks back, adjusting his mask as he gives Warren a thumbs-up.
"Classic Warren, always the angel in a bad mood. You're just too good for us."
He turns toward Sofia, who is standing with an icy stare, leaning casually against a nearby wall. Her dark, intense eyes scan the group before settling on Deadpool. She's got that 'don't-freaking-mess-with-me' aura that only she can pull off.
"Now, Sofia. The stunning, the deadly, the way-too-quick-to-kill-you Sofia. I mean, seriously, look at her. She could probably take out an entire army with one well-aimed bullet. But does she care about taking out said army? Nope. She's got class about it. She'll do it with style. Don't make her angry. Trust me, you won't like her when she's angry."
Sofia shoots Deadpool a cold look that could freeze a fire. She adjusts her gear, glancing over at the others with a slight roll of her eyes.
"Let's just get this over with, please. I didn't sign up for a show."
Deadpool laughs heartily.
"Exactly what I love about her. Straight to the point, no drama. You're a woman of mystery, Sofia. And maybe a little danger. Just the way I like my ladies—deadly and efficient."
Finally, Deadpool turns to Alvarez, who is twirling a knife with dangerous precision. Alvarez gives off an air of calculated menace and charm that is so smooth it could melt ice. The guy's practically oozing swag. Seriously. If you needed a master at assassination and being impossibly suave while doing it, Alvarez is your guy.
"Now, the last but definitely not least, Alvarez. The Antonio Banderas of our world, with enough swagger to fill the entire street of Lavapiés—and then some. Don't let that grin fool you, folks. You've seen his films. You know this man does business with a capital B. He's like if James Bond had a Latin accent and a blade that could end your life without even breaking a sweat. He's got one-liners, he's got tactics, and, most importantly, he's got style. All the bad guys in the world should be scared of this man. Like, really scared."
Alvarez raises an eyebrow at Deadpool, twirling his combat knife with an almost lazy grace.
"I'll show you business, amigo. But, I will make sure we have a good time while we're doing it."
Deadpool claps his hands, delighted.
"Yes! That's the spirit! Now that we've met the squad, let's get to work. We're storming La Casa Roja. No more hiding. No more sneaky tactics. It's time for full-on chaos—with a side of sardonic humor."
He looks at the team, the excitement radiating off of him.
"Alright, team, let's show Francis why messing with us was the worst decision of his pathetic, cowardly life. Try not to die on me, okay? Because I'm not picking up the pieces if you end up looking like a human smoothie."
Deadpool grins, pulling out his katanas, twirling them in his hands.
"Alright, folks! Let's make this happen. And if you see me in a cool new jacket after this? You can totally thank me later. This one's getting a little—crispy."
With that, Deadpool and the team head toward La Casa Roja, ready to create absolute mayhem. The mission was simple: get Francis, take him down, and look good doing it. The only question was... who would survive the storm?
"Onward, my friends! Let's paint the town red… literally!"
---
Hey fellow fanfic enthusiasts!
I hope you're enjoying the fanfiction so far! I'd love to hear your thoughts on it. Whether you loved it, hated it, or have some constructive criticism, your feedback is super important to me. Feel free to drop a comment or send me a message with your thoughts. Can't wait to hear from you!
If you're passionate about fanfiction and love discussing stories, characters, and plot twists, then you're in the right place! I've created a Discord server dedicated to diving deep into the world of fanfiction, especially my own stories. Whether you're a reader, a writer, or just someone who enjoys a good tale, I welcome you to join us for lively discussions, feedback sessions, and maybe even some sneak peeks into upcoming chapters, along with artwork related to the stories. Let's nerd out together over our favorite fandoms and explore the endless possibilities of storytelling!
Click the link below to join the conversation:
https://discord.com/invite/HHHwRsB6wd
Can't wait to see you there!
If you appreciate my work and want to support me, consider buying me a cup of coffee. Your support helps me keep writing and bringing more stories to you. You can do so via PayPal here:
https://www.paypal.me/VikrantUtekar007
Or through my Buy Me a Coffee page:
https://www.buymeacoffee.com/vikired001s
Thank you for your support!