The courtroom was one of those older ones — dark wooden benches, high ceilings, and a fan that rotated slowly above like it was stuck in 1953. It smelled like old paper, stale perfume, and bureaucracy.
Matt stood beside Alex at the defendant's table, calmly reviewing the file with his fingers as if he could read Braille through sheer confidence alone.
Alex, on the other hand, looked way too calm for someone accused of murder.
He leaned over and whispered, "You sure this is gonna work?"
Matt didn't look up. "Let's put it this way — if it doesn't, we're both going to jail."
"…What?"
Matt turned slightly toward him, just enough to smirk. "Kidding. Mostly."
Before Alex could ask what the hell "mostly" meant—
BANG.The courtroom doors flew open.
"OBJECTION, YOUR HONOR!"
Everyone turned.
And in walked Deadpool.
Wearing a pink suit jacket, red leggings, sunglasses, and what looked like a plastic sheriff's badge pinned to his chest.
Behind him: Butcher, Hughie, Frenchie, and Kimiko — all visibly trying not to be seen with him.
But it was too late.
Deadpool strolled in like he owned the place, throwing finger guns at the bailiff.
"Relax, buddy, I'm here as moral support! Also possibly legal counsel. I watched four episodes of Suits this morning, I'm practically qualified."
The judge blinked. "Who the hell—?"
"Name's Wilson," Deadpool cut in. "Wade Wilson. The Wade Wilson. Merc with a Mouth, menace with a moustache—wait, no moustache. Whatever. Let's move on."
The judge banged the gavel. "Sir, this is a court of law—"
Deadpool pointed dramatically at Alex. "That man is innocent! He's as innocent as a baby dolphin! He's so clean he makes Clorox feel insecure!"
Matt, still perfectly composed, turned toward the judge. "Your Honor, I apologize. He's not with the defense."
Deadpool leaned in. "Technically, I am with the defense. Just not… legally."
Alex whispered, "Why are they even letting him walk around like that?"
Butcher grumbled from the back, "Because I threatened to vaporize the front desk if they didn't let us in."
The judge massaged his temples.
Matt stood tall. "Your Honor, if we can get back on track—"
"No objections," Deadpool chimed in. "I'll be in the back. Quiet as a mime. Swear on my next reboot."
He sat in the gallery, pulled out a bag of popcorn, and loudly whispered to Kimiko, "Tell me when Matt starts speaking Latin or does that super-cool 'I've got you trapped in your own logic' move."
Alex groaned.
Matt leaned toward him again. "I've handled mob bosses, corrupt CEOs, and supervillains. This? This is just another Tuesday."
Alex exhaled. "Good. 'Cause if he yells 'Plot twist!' one more time, I'm jumping out the window."