Harley wasn’t sure what he expected from this supposed “road trip,” but riding shotgun in a beat-up van that Deadpool had hotwired was definitely not it.
“Where did you even get this thing?” Harley asked, clutching his seatbelt for dear life as Deadpool swerved around a corner.
“Get?” Deadpool cackled, honking the horn just because he could. “Sweetheart, I liberated it! Let’s call it a donation from the ‘Deadpool Needs Wheels’ fund.”
Logan growled from the back seat. “You stole it, didn’t you?”
“‘Stole’ is such an ugly word. I prefer ‘commandeered.’ It’s classier.”
Harley buried his face in his hands. “I’m going to jail. Or worse, I’m going to die in a stolen van with you lunatics.”
“Relax, Miami Vice,” Deadpool said, slapping him on the shoulder. “You’ve got plot armor! You’re not dying until at least the third act.”
Harley groaned. “I hate that you keep saying things like that.”
The van screeched to a halt outside what looked like an abandoned warehouse. Logan hopped out first, sniffing the air like a dog on the hunt.
“This the place?” Harley asked hesitantly, climbing out after him.
“Yep,” Logan grunted. “SHIELD’s bunker’s under here. Don’t ask how I know, ‘cause you don’t wanna hear the story.”
Deadpool twirled his katanas. “Ooooh, story time later, grumpy! For now, let’s crack this egg open.”
The warehouse door was padlocked, but Logan solved that problem with a single swipe of his claws. Harley flinched as sparks flew.
“Cool. Sure. Just casually slice through steel like it’s butter. Totally normal,” Harley muttered.
Inside, the warehouse was dim and dusty, filled with crates stamped with cryptic labels like Property of SHIELD and Do Not Touch.
“This place gives me the creeps,” Harley whispered.
“Creeps?” Deadpool said, popping the top off a crate to reveal rows of glowing blue cubes. “This is a candy store, baby! Look at all the shiny things!”
“Hey! Don’t touch anything,” Logan snapped, slamming the crate shut. “We’re here for intel, not souvenirs.”
“Party pooper,” Deadpool muttered, though he pocketed a cube anyway.
Harley wandered nervously through the maze of crates, his eyes darting around. Something about this place felt... off.
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“So, uh, what exactly are we looking for?” he asked.
“Anything that tells us why your comic’s gone haywire,” Logan replied. “SHIELD’s gotta have files on multiverse anomalies.”
“Multiverse anomalies? That’s a thing?”
Deadpool popped up behind him. “Oh, sweet summer child. It’s the thing. You think I’m the only weirdo jumping between universes? The multiverse is basically a cosmic free-for-all.”
Logan snorted. “And idiots like you make it worse.”
“Guilty as charged!”
As they searched, Harley couldn’t shake the feeling that they were being watched. He stopped by a crate labeled CLASSIFIED and peeked inside.
“Guys, I think I found something,” he called.
Logan and Deadpool joined him as Harley pulled out a sleek, black device humming with energy.
“What is that?” Harley asked.
Deadpool poked it. “Dibs on the cool glowy thing!”
Before anyone could stop him, the device activated, projecting a holographic display in the air. Harley’s jaw dropped as an image of a sleek, gray-suited agent appeared, their face stern and their tone cold.
“This is Agent Ravonna Renslayer of the TVA,” the hologram announced. “You are in possession of unauthorized multiversal technology. Cease your activities immediately, or face intervention.”
Harley blinked. “Uh... what?”
Deadpool clapped his hands. “TVA! Finally, the plot thickens! Also, hi, Ravonna! Love the outfit, very dystopian chic.”
Logan groaned. “Great. Just what we need—time cops breathing down our necks.”
“Time cops?!” Harley exclaimed, panic creeping into his voice. “You’re telling me time cops are after us now?!”
“Oh, they’re not just after us,” Deadpool said, casually slinging an arm around Harley’s shoulders. “They’re probably already here.”
As if on cue, a glowing golden portal opened behind them. Out stepped a squad of TVA Minutemen, their batons crackling with energy.
“Harley Davis,” one of them announced, their voice devoid of emotion. “You are charged with unauthorized disruption of the Sacred Timeline and multiverse interference. Surrender immediately.”
Harley’s mouth went dry. “What... what happens if I don’t surrender?”
“They prune you,” Logan said grimly, popping his claws.
“Prune me? What does that even mean?!”
Deadpool waved a hand dismissively. “Relax, it’s just a fancy way of saying they zap you into nonexistence. No biggie.”
“No biggie?!” Harley screeched.
“Less talking, more fighting,” Logan growled, charging at the Minutemen.
Chaos erupted. Logan slashed, Deadpool whooped, and Harley... well, Harley dove behind a crate, clutching the now-smoking TVA device like his life depended on it.
“This is insane!” Harley yelled over the commotion.
“Welcome to the multiverse, kid!” Deadpool shouted, dodging a baton swing with a cartwheel. “You’ll get used to it!”
As the fight raged on, Harley glanced down at the device in his hands. The screen displayed a swirling, glitchy map of timelines and universes, with one timeline flashing red.
“Uh, guys?” Harley called.
“Little busy here, kid!” Logan snapped, stabbing a Minuteman.
“No, seriously! I think this thing is—”
Before Harley could finish, the device emitted a deafening BEEP and unleashed a burst of energy. The warehouse dissolved into blinding light, and Harley felt himself being pulled... somewhere else.
When the light faded, Harley opened his eyes to find himself in an entirely new place—one that looked suspiciously like the TVA headquarters.
Deadpool appeared next to him, looking surprisingly cheerful. “Well, this just got interesting.”
Logan materialized moments later, growling in frustration. “Kid, you better figure out what’s going on fast, or we’re all toast.”
Harley gulped. “No pressure, right?”
Deadpool winked at him. “Oh, there’s lots of pressure. But don’t worry—your survival odds are, like, 60-40. Maybe 70-30 if you play your cards right.”
Harley groaned. This was going to be a very, very long day.