It was rather inevitable that a Harley Quinn and a Deadpool in the same game would have to find each other. Harley had become DC's answer to Deadpool who was Marvel's answer to Slade. They were the Inception of each other. Kind of. Sort of. Maybe not really? It sounded deep as hell though.
It was also rather inevitable that they would meet in a way that defied any and all logic of how normal people meet. Deadpool had found himself wandering after the Masquerade, and somewhere between the party and the beach (Footnote: See his post if you want some idea of the tortured chronology we're trying to follow here) he found himself in a theater. There was just one other person there, and if he was allowed to break the fourth wall, he was such a fan.
Except.
One, since he'd rather intentionally botched the Masquerade, thus breaking the game from the word "go", he appeared to be Ryan Reynolds. The mask had become the face. Joke's on you, guardians!!! With a face like Donald Trump's ass after too much tennis and too much sitting and sweating into wrinkly tennis shorts material, why wouldn't he prefer to look like Ryan Reynolds for a while?
"Hold up. Stop. Let's give her a chance to ruminate on that imagery for a while. Really just sit there and picture it. MMMM MMMM, that's some juicy fine imagery, ain't it? That's the kinda thing that'll stick with you while you try to eat. That's some mighty good dinner time conversation right there."
(We finally find a Harley Quinn to play with and now she will never, ever play with us. Way to go.)
"Pfff. If she can take the Joker's crinkly nipples, she can take Donald Trump's ass."
ANYWAYS, two, he didn't see Harley Quinn, for he'd found himself bad touching the mask too. No seriously, he got all up in there with his fingers. That shouldn't be a bad thing to picture, but it sure sounds bad, doesn't it? So who did he see?
"Vanessa..." He frowned with his big fat Ryan Reynolds face. "I...I..."
And most importantly, three, she clearly didn't see Deadpool. Whoever she saw, she was utterly furious at, which interestingly played right into his own delusion. And since he was paralyzed with shock, he was a prime target for losing his head.
The Play's the Thing (CW: Donald Trump's Ass)
It was also rather inevitable that they would meet in a way that defied any and all logic of how normal people meet. Deadpool had found himself wandering after the Masquerade, and somewhere between the party and the beach (Footnote: See his post if you want some idea of the tortured chronology we're trying to follow here) he found himself in a theater. There was just one other person there, and if he was allowed to break the fourth wall, he was such a fan.
Except.
One, since he'd rather intentionally botched the Masquerade, thus breaking the game from the word "go", he appeared to be Ryan Reynolds. The mask had become the face. Joke's on you, guardians!!! With a face like Donald Trump's ass after too much tennis and too much sitting and sweating into wrinkly tennis shorts material, why wouldn't he prefer to look like Ryan Reynolds for a while?
"Hold up. Stop. Let's give her a chance to ruminate on that imagery for a while. Really just sit there and picture it. MMMM MMMM, that's some juicy fine imagery, ain't it? That's the kinda thing that'll stick with you while you try to eat. That's some mighty good dinner time conversation right there."
(We finally find a Harley Quinn to play with and now she will never, ever play with us. Way to go.)
"Pfff. If she can take the Joker's crinkly nipples, she can take Donald Trump's ass."
ANYWAYS, two, he didn't see Harley Quinn, for he'd found himself bad touching the mask too. No seriously, he got all up in there with his fingers. That shouldn't be a bad thing to picture, but it sure sounds bad, doesn't it? So who did he see?
"Vanessa..." He frowned with his big fat Ryan Reynolds face. "I...I..."
And most importantly, three, she clearly didn't see Deadpool. Whoever she saw, she was utterly furious at, which interestingly played right into his own delusion. And since he was paralyzed with shock, he was a prime target for losing his head.