Like Deadpool in the DC Universe.-Chapter 11: A date!!!!

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Blade looked up at the sky for a moment, then back down at the city beneath him, as if replaying the brutal highlights of his life. He sighed before continuing, his voice low but sharp as a damn razor.

"After I was left alone, I needed something to keep me alive. I heard about mercenaries, men who sell their skills for cash, who don't give a damn about heroes or villains—just the job and the paycheck. That... sounded perfect for me."

He looked down at his hands for a moment, then let out a sarcastic chuckle. "I was just a kid, not even old enough to hold a damn knife properly. But I wasn't just any kid. I was hungry. I was pissed. And I was determined. I found one of those gangs recruiting kids. Wasn't that hard... I joined as their first little soldier at eleven."

Raven watched him in silence, trying to process the fact that a child who should've been in school was instead training to become a killer.

"At first, I was just a runner—smuggling shit, watching targets. But after a year? They gave me my first real job... the first blood I ever spilled with my own hands."

His tone stalled for a second, as if he was reliving the feeling that overtook him back then. Then he continued, a cold smirk creeping onto his lips. "That day was the key... there was no going back after that. I was branded. No longer just some lost kid... I became something else."

Raven felt a faint shiver run down her spine, but she didn't interrupt.

"Years passed, and I sank deeper into that world. I wasn't just learning how to kill. I was learning how to think like the devils, how to disappear, how to plan, how to escape, how to fool everyone. I was surrounded by monsters, and if I wanted to survive, I had to become worse than them."

He looked up at the city again, as if it was just some meaningless backdrop to his story.

"By seventeen, I had reached my limit. I didn't need them anymore. I didn't see any reason to stick with the herd... so I decided to leave."

He turned to Raven with a small smile, but this one was different—darker. "But I didn't leave anyone behind to chase me... I wiped out the entire gang."

Raven said nothing, but her eyes held a storm of mixed emotions. Blade wasn't just some lunatic with a bad sense of humor. He was a nightmare forged in hell, carving out his place in the world.

Yet, despite everything, he was sitting right next to her now, talking about his past like it was just another story—not a scar burned into his soul.

Blade stretched his arms back, leaning against the ledge as he gazed down at the city. Then, with his usual mocking tone, he said:

"A year after wiping out the gang, I needed a new goal. Can't just be a wandering hitman with no ambition, right? So, I figured I'd try something a little... more exciting. I wanted to see if I could take down one of the big bad guys. Y'know, the ones with power, armies, and maybe even a criminal record longer than Starfire's damn grocery list."

He let out a short laugh, but his next words carried a strange seriousness.

"Naturally, because of my unmatched genius, it only took a week. One week of watching, planning, analyzing... and in the end? He was dead in my hands."

He raised his hands in front of his face as if replaying the memory, then lowered them again with a sigh.

"After that? I realized I had found my natural place. Killing for money? Easy. Simple. No emotions, no complications. I worked as a solo mercenary—no gangs, no teams, just me and my weapons. I was a ghost in this world, taking out whoever paid the most... and that's how I ended up here."

He turned to Raven with a smirk, then winked at her, saying:

"And before you ask—no, there wasn't some fancy uniform, no shiny membership card... but there was a whole lot of blood. And that's enough, isn't it?"

Raven didn't respond. She just kept staring at him, trying to make sense of the insane contradiction between the carefree joker sitting next to her and the cold-blooded killer narrating his past like it was just another bedtime story.

Blade smirked, his gaze drifting toward the horizon before he slowly turned his head back to Raven.

"You know... after years of being just a merc-for-hire, I thought I'd reached the top. Turns out, the top was even higher than I imagined. The government itself decided to put me on their payroll. Yeah, the same government with an army, intelligence agencies, secret operatives, and satellites that probably spy on stray cats just for fun... they wanted me to kill someone they couldn't get rid of themselves."

He let out a short chuckle, shaking his head.

"Can you imagine how desperate they were? They were willing to pay a batshit insane amount just because I was the one taking the job. Three and a half billion dollars... upfront."

He held up three fingers, then added a dramatic half-finger gesture.

"You know how long I needed to finish the job? I told them three days... but I killed the target in two. Yeah, two damn days! By that point, I was a goddamn murder machine, a psychotic strategist, an unstoppable fucking mind."

He waved his hand through the air as if painting a cinematic masterpiece in the void.

"Nothing could stop me—no walls, no security systems, no guards... and certainly not that poor bastard who didn't realize his days were numbered the second his name landed on my list."

Then he looked at Raven with eyes full of challenge, arrogance dripping from his tone as he leaned in slightly.

"If you think I'm just some idiot cracking jokes all the time, then you haven't seen the other side of the coin yet... and trust me, it's not a pretty fucking sight."

Raven didn't respond immediately. She just kept observing him carefully, trying to process everything he was saying. The man in front of her wasn't just some loud-mouthed fool. He was terrifying. A merciless killer. And—what worried her the most—a genius in chaos.

Blade took a deep breath, then exhaled slowly as he stared down at the city beneath them.

"But over time... I got bored. Yeah, bored. Being an unstoppable death machine, planning, executing, raking in millions... it was fun at first, but after a while? It became routine. Boring as hell—literally."

He waved his hand like he was wiping away an invisible scene in front of him.

"One day, after finishing yet another mind-numbingly easy job, I just sat there, on top of some building, looking down at the city... and I realized—it was over. There was nothing left to do. Money? I had enough to buy a small country. Killing? Became so easy it wasn't even fun anymore. Heroes? Villains? Same damn story, different day."

He turned to Raven with a sly smirk.

"So, I decided to do something new. Something that didn't require planning, killing, or even a clear goal... I decided to piss everyone off!"

Blade threw his arms wide open, as if announcing yet another grand victory.

"Yes! That's my new mission! Spreading pure, random chaos! Annoying the hell out of everyone for absolutely no reason! Cracking jokes at the worst possible moments! Driving people insane just by existing! I've gone from being a mercenary assassin to an unstoppable force of fucking irritation!"

He let out a loud, triumphant laugh before lowering his voice slightly, his tone carrying an almost amused resignation.

"And that's how... one way or another... I ended up here."

He cast a sideways glance at Raven, who was watching him with an expression he couldn't quite read—a mix of curiosity, disbelief, and maybe... just a tiny bit of admiration?

He wasn't sure, and naturally, he decided to ruin the moment.

"And now that I've shared my tragic, heartbreaking backstory... can we get some goddamn food? Because my stomach is about to stage a full-blown fucking coup!"

As Blade stood on the edge of the building, gazing at the horizon like a dramatic action hero, something suddenly hit him square on the head.

It wasn't a superpowered attack.

It wasn't an explosion.

It wasn't an ambush from some vengeful enemy.

It was just... a pigeon.

He froze. Completely. His entire body went stiff as his brain processed the sheer audacity of what had just occurred.

Slowly, he turned his head, locking eyes with the winged little bastard as it flapped away, completely unbothered—like it hadn't just committed a personal fucking war crime.

Without hesitation, he raised his middle finger skyward, but everyone—including Raven—knew he wasn't flipping off the bird. No, that message was meant for the writer himself.

"Alright, alright! I get it, you sadistic piece of shit! You wanna humiliate me? Fine! But I'm not going down that eas—"

And just as the words left his mouth, the universe decided to make him eat them.

His foot slipped. His balance wavered. And before he knew it, he was toppling backward off the goddamn rooftop.

"FUUUUUUCK THE WRIIIIIIITEEEEEEEER—!"

Before he could become a very painful smear on the pavement below, Raven's eyes glowed with purple light. With a flick of her hand, she caught him mid-air in a dark energy field, halting his fall just inches from disaster.

With an air of amused nonchalance, she levitated him back up, placing him right where he had been standing.

Blade dusted himself off, casually adjusting his mask as if nothing had happened.

Then, with the most obviously fake gratitude imaginable, he turned to her.

"Oh, wow, thanks, Goth Girl! I was just, uh... testing gravity! And guess what? You passed! Congratulations!"

Raven just shook her head, a small, amused smile creeping onto her lips.

Blade, meanwhile, turned his attention back to the empty sky, lowering his voice into a near-whisper—just loud enough for the writer to hear.

"Okay... listen, buddy. I may have... slightly overstepped. My bad. Totally my bad. So, how about we call it even, yeah? New page? No more sudden betrayals from fucking pigeons?"

Silence.

No response from the heavens.

Just Raven, watching him with a raised brow.

"Who the hell are you talking to?" she asked, genuinely confused.

Blade paused. Then, flashing a devilish grin, he replied smoothly—

"Oh, nothing! Just... making a deal with fate."

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