"Is this the place?"
The group navigated through the sewers, turning left and right, the slippery floor covered in moss and unidentifiable filth, one careless step could send you tumbling into the adjacent rushing flood channel.
Fortunately, both Deathstroke and Deadpool had night vision gear, and the doctor brought a flashlight, so their pace in the pitch-black sewer wasn't too slow.
Guided by Monac, they reached their target location smoothly. It was a relatively dry large area, with a huge iron door guarded not far away.
It was unclear who those people were, wearing black raincoats, holding oil lamps, patrolling near the door. They had no guns and looked like dockworkers.
Right now, Su Ming and the others were hiding behind a nearby corner, the sound of the flood concealing their voices, allowing them to converse freely without concern.
Deadpool had just caught a big rat, ignoring its frantic struggles, he named it William Wallace and kept fiddling with it in his hand. After all, he's immune to all diseases; he himself is a virus, so this plague-spreading critter could well be his pet.
He decided that if he could go back, he'd bring it along. The moment he saw its sneaky little eyes, he felt a connection.
Vanessa always said she wanted a pet, just never got the chance. Now, catching a rat from 1942 seemed quite valuable.
"Ahem, stop playing, remember the plan?"
Su Ming nudged him with an elbow, warning him not to carve his own skin to feed the rat with his dagger, ignoring the disgusted looks from both the doctor and the mage.
"Oh, I remember, break the door, chop people, wrap it up. For Deadpool, this kind of plan is... uh, just perfect." He originally wanted to say 'basic and dumb,' but remembered the might of the Godslayer and shamefully changed his tune.
Of course, this wasn't Su Ming's plan; after all, each location's situation couldn't be identical. More detailed improvisation and key actions were more reliably handled by himself.
But for someone in the team tactically positioned as 'decoy' and 'punching bag,' Deadpool knowing this much was enough.
"Good, remember, charge at them and curse, say the nastiest things, get their attention, and leave the rest to me." Su Ming patted his shoulder, pushing him out of cover.
Deadpool glanced back, seeing the three huddled at the corner giving him a thumbs up. Suddenly, he had a bad feeling.
But he quickly forgot about it. Who's a threat to him in this era? Even if it were Thanos behind that door, he'd chop him down just the same, right?
So he drew out his samurai sword, twirled it, and with the other hand holding the rat, gave a thumbs up too.
Then he raised his long sword, letting out a strange cry, and charged toward the door.
Hiding in the shadows, Su Ming slowly polished the Godslayer with his palm, "Good, watch for a bit. If he doesn't step on a landmine, we can move in too."
Holloway's mouth twitched, unsure of what expression to make, "That's your cousin, right?"
"If he says so, then sure, explaining is too complicated," Su Ming answered calmly.
"Uh, aren't you worried about him getting into trouble?" Holloway scratched his beard, feeling the siblings had an unusual dynamic.
"He can't die anyway, his flesh alone could feed sewer rats, so he's perfect for clearing mines. Besides, Monac doesn't need to shift his casting cost onto him, does he? None of this bothers him." Su Ming first answered Holloway, telling him to just quietly watch, then turned to ask the mage beside him.
"No, passing the casting cost onto someone else just means another person shares the bad luck," Monac said, since evil gods are always hungry for souls, and he didn't want to involve someone clueless about magic, lest they remember his name.
Of course, that's his thinking. If it were up to Su Ming, even the evil gods wouldn't bear Deadpool's antics, just like how Hell from DC doesn't welcome Harley Quinn.
Harley once made a deal with a Devil through Zatanna, trading herself for a few ghost souls to play with, as per the agreement, the Devil returned the freedom of the souls, but Harley had to entertain the Devil in Hell for a month.
Yet, not even three days later, the Devil sent her back, unable to tolerate Harley's incessant chatter and madness. The Devil broke the contract himself, suffering the backlash, never wanting to see Harley's crazy face again.
Harley's face might still be considered pleasant, but Wade's face? He's just one big shriveled-up, dried avocado.
But Monac didn't want to, so be it. The chap is a righteous hero, after all, completely different in style from Su Ming.
With no more issues, the three poked their heads out from the corner, watching Deadpool charging at the enemy in the darkness.
"Wahaha, your Lord Deadpool is here, stick your necks out, you manure and DNA-spliced deviant freaks! Abnormalities grown from a butthole..."
Deadpool truly carried out Su Ming's tactics, spewing venomous curses right from the get-go. Even if Su Ming hadn't encouraged it, he wouldn't be able to hold back anyway.
Those patrolling near the door naturally saw the fast-approaching Deadpool and his bright, shiny long sword in the lamplight.
As Deadpool got closer, his filthy language became clear, which caused one of the raincoat-wearers to explode on the spot.
It was an actual explosion, not a metaphorical one.
The person's black raincoat was blown upward by a powerful airflow, their body swelling like a balloon being filled with air, right before a thunderous bang. Flesh and bones were torn apart from the burst belly, showering towards Deadpool's direction.
In an instant, Deadpool became a figure drenched in blood, with several broken ribs stabbed into his head and a piece of intestine draped over it.
The mix of flesh and blood caused him to slip, landing flat on his back.
"This..." Holloway grinned, watching from afar so couldn't see clearly, but this scenario—cussing someone into an explosion—that was a first.
"This isn't magic," Monac could manage a bit, yet still couldn't fathom why this happened, only able to voice his judgment for Su Ming to decide.
Of course, Su Ming knew this wasn't some DND level one spell 'Color Spray,' although that guy with guts and intestines spilling out wasn't dead.
With his keen eyesight, he saw that bloated figure, belly burst open, nonetheless flaunting proudly as if already confirmed as the victor.
That guy's abdomen was healing rapidly, with internal organs first, then bones, and finally muscles, fat, and skin.
Within seconds, he was restored to his original form.
Yet Su Ming calmly observed. The enemy might not be dead, but neither did he'd suffered casualties. He had roughly figured out who these folks were, so Deadpool could restrain them as he seized the opportunity.
With someone taking the front, focusing solely on offense felt this good? No wonder superheroes liked forming teams.