Deadpool X Boku No Hero Academia

LA CASA

Well, well, well, look who decided to drop in! Hey there, you beautiful readers! Buckle up, 'cause we're diving headfirst into another freakin' chapter of my masterpiece – or should I say, my dumpster fire of a fanfic!

Hold onto your chimichangas, 'cause here comes Chapter 7! Get ready for a wild ride, folks!

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(As the sun gracefully ascends, it bathes the sky in a breathtaking palette of light blue and golden hues. The dawn of a new day marks the beginning of the school year, and disgruntled kids reluctantly stir from their slumber, lamenting the perceived brevity of their summer vacation. Meanwhile, eager parents, bursting with pride, stand ready to capture every precious moment on film.

Amid this vibrant morning scene, a quaint little house comes into view. Its exterior boasts walls adorned in a soothing light brownish hue. However, upon entering, the charm dissipates, revealing a disarray of scattered garbage, haphazardly arranged shelves, and a wooden floor that wears the marks of neglect.)

{Nice job.}

(Thank you, I know)

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"Wade," a voice echoed from the murky depths of unconsciousness. "Wade." It called me! The voice resonated, pulsating through the darkness. "Wade!"

Yes, it's getting stronger! I felt a strange energy, as if the universe itself was addressing me. "WADE!" The call reverberated, shaking my very essence. God? God, is it you? Have I been chosen by the divine?

"WADE!"

I could feel my body shaking, the anticipation building. This was it – my destiny, my purpose, revealed by the almighty.

BANG!

"OH, FOR THE LOVE OF CHIMICHANGAS!" I screamed, abruptly pulled from my celestial connection. I looked down to find my freaking leg sporting a new hole. A bullet hole.

"Oh, it's about time," a frustrated yet somehow satisfied voice remarked. I squinted up, expecting a divine being, only to see an old woman with questionable fashion choices and oversized glasses.

"You fucking shoot me!"

"Yeah, no shit, Sherlock."

"You're an old woman with bad fashion sense and glasses!" I exclaimed, my disappointment evident.

SMACK! A pistol smacked me on the head. "Ouch!" I groaned.

"Don't call me old," she scolded, arms crossed in annoyance.

"Well, don't shoot me!" I shot back, indignant.

"Why did you even shoot me?!" I demanded an explanation.

"Well, do you remember yesterday when you said to me, 'Al! Wake me up at 6 am tomorrow! Thanks!'?" She glared at me, still visibly angry.

"OHHHHH," realization struck me like a ton of bricks. "I forgot."

"Jerk," Al grumbled, walking away as if my morning gunshot was an everyday occurrence.

"Well, time to start the day!" I mumbled to myself, nursing my leg wound and pondering the mysteries of life, death, and morning wake-up calls.

===

I staggered to my feet, dragging myself away from the warm embrace of my gray, blood-stained bed. "Well, isn't this a cozy little murder nest," I mumbled as I surveyed the room, decorated with more holes than Swiss cheese and a motivational cat poster that was clinging to life with a desperate 'hang in there' plea.

With a nonchalant shrug, I shuffled my way to the kitchen, a battlefield of chaos and garbage. Grabbing a bowl and a spoon – because manners, right? – I unleashed my culinary genius upon the unsuspecting cereal box. Chocolatey goodness poured into the bowl like the secrets of a million therapists, and then came the sugar, liquor, jam, and milk. A concoction only a merc with a mouth could truly appreciate.