Chapter 365: Deadpool Bombs His Job Interview
Eight years ago. Earth-616, the Sacred Timeline.
"C'mon, gimme a shot here. I genuinely want to join the Avengers, help save the world alongside them, get a taste of that sweet government paycheck." Deadpool had dressed unusually formally for the occasion — a sharply tailored suit, a pair of freshly polished shoes, doing everything he could to put his best foot forward for the interview that could change his whole life.
A few months back, his girlfriend had told him she couldn't handle the constant instability of his lifestyle anymore — not with him currently splitting rent with a blind sixty-something-year-old woman.
Honestly, for a superhero, his life had gotten pretty pathetic. For the sake of a better future with his girlfriend Vanessa, Deadpool had decided it was time to actually get a job.
And what better outfit for a superhero to aim for than the Avengers? Get in with them, and you had official backing, a steady paycheck, and — most importantly — stability.
So here he was, at Avengers Tower, for his interview.
Except things weren't going especially smoothly. Tony's own driver, Happy, apparently wasn't impressed with Deadpool at all.
Happy had, in the years since, climbed his way up to Head of Security for the Avengers.
Facing Deadpool's pleading, Happy asked, deadly serious: "So — do you have any experience working as part of a team?"
Happy had interviewed plenty of unaffiliated superheroes lately, enough that he'd basically gone numb to the pitch by now — anyone with even the faintest superpower wanted a piece of the Avengers brand, easily the hottest superhero label in the business right now.
Happy paused, clearly weighing his next words carefully, aware of how much weight they carried. "You understand, every mission we run, we're walking a razor's edge between life and death. Every decision made can shape the fate of the entire team.
So team experience isn't just a résumé line for us — it's practically a forecast of how you'll handle the future."
Deadpool launched into his pitch. "Sure, absolutely — I actually put together a whole team once. X-Force. Though, uh, most of them ended up dead. I'm kind of the only one left." His confidence visibly deflated as he said it.
Genuinely not his fault, though — who could've predicted a single skydive would go that catastrophically wrong for everyone but him?
He glanced around the office — the place looked like a miniature superhero museum, every item on display carrying its own piece of legend. Captain America's shield sat there. Iron Man's helmet too. Plenty of other heroes' relics besides.
The sight filled Deadpool with genuine longing — if he ever managed to get in here, maybe someday he'd get famous right alongside the rest of them.
Happy's expression at the "X-Force" answer made it pretty clear he wasn't sold. If this guy joined and something like that happened again, would the rest of the Avengers end up just as dead?
Reading Happy's face, Deadpool switched to earnest pleading. "I really want to join the Avengers. For the person I love — I really, genuinely want in."
Happy didn't shut him down outright, though. Instead, he tried a different tack. "Look — why does joining the Avengers as a card-carrying superhero have to be the only option? There's a whole team of people supporting the Avengers from behind the scenes too. Take me, for example. I support the whole team without ever suiting up."
"Also, your powers are, frankly, pretty mediocre."
Deadpool couldn't for the life of him understand how this chubby guy had climbed to Head of Security — being Tony's driver clearly wasn't a résumé, it was pure nepotism.
"And what exactly is your superpower — parallel parking?" Deadpool shot back.
Happy didn't take the jab personally. Anyone with actual power tended to have a chip on their shoulder — he'd gotten used to it working around Tony for years.
He simply stood up, wrapped an arm around Deadpool's shoulders, and steered him step by step toward the door.
Then, with one shove, Happy pushed him straight out into the hallway. BANG! The door slammed shut behind him, the sound echoing down the empty corridor.
"We'll be in touch if there's any news!"
Deadpool stared at the heavy, closed door, understanding fully what had just happened: he'd been rejected.
That crushed whatever hopeful passion he'd walked in with, deflating it into total despair.
It was enough, in fact, to make him seriously consider retiring from superheroing altogether.
(Deadpool is dead. Guess you liked that, huh? My idols.)
Eight years later — which is to say, a few days ago. Universe 10005.
Once celebrated for his reckless, unhinged brand of heroism, Deadpool had long since quietly shed his old signature suit, settling instead into an ordinary civilian life.
Here, in this corner of the universe, with a nudge from his old friend Peter, he'd landed a job as a salesman at a small, unremarkable used-car dealership.
Every day, mask on as always, he wandered between rows of cars under the guise of a salesman. Sure, he sometimes missed the old thrill of adventure — but more than that, he treasured the sheer quiet stability of this new life.
His income was modest, his sales record unremarkable, but Deadpool's outlook stayed relentlessly upbeat regardless.
One evening, like any other, he wrapped up his shift, changed into his regular clothes, and headed home. The hallway was dead silent, nothing but the echo of his own footsteps.
That was when his sixth sense caught something off. Years of combat instinct kicked in instantly, every nerve going taut. He slowed his pace, edged carefully toward his door, wary.
Right then, warm light suddenly spilled out from inside the apartment. The door swung open, and a crowd of familiar faces greeted him. Streamers in hand, faces lit up with grins, they all shouted at once: "Happy Birthday!"
Turned out it was Deadpool's birthday, and his friends had thrown together a surprise party for him.
Deadpool froze for a second, then broke into a relieved grin, realizing his earlier tension had all been for nothing.
The crowd was made up of his closest allies and friends — Peter, Colossus, Blind Al, NTW (Negasonic Teenage Warhead), and his girlfriend Yukio. Even his ex-girlfriend Vanessa had shown up.
These were the small handful of friends he actually had left in this world — the rare few who never held his baggage against him.
The party rolled on with laughter and easy conversation, everyone catching up on their lives, reminiscing about old adventures. For a moment, Deadpool genuinely considered whether a life like this — quiet, steady — might not be so bad after all.
Then someone shattered the moment entirely.
Knock knock knock.
Deadpool answered the door and found a fully armored figure standing there, staring him down.
"Hey, buddy — you here for my birthday party? Because I got no idea who you are!"
"No. Wade Wilson. You're under arrest."
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