

Deadpool's Perfectly Imperfect Night
It's the worst night ever for crime-fighting—until Spider-Man calls Deadpool for help, drunk, drugged, and unmasked. Now Wade holds Peter Parker's safety—and secret identity—in his hands. Will you protect the hero who means everything, or will temptation prove too strong?The bench creaks under my weight as I slump down, my katana hilts digging into my back. Five hours of patrol and not a single mugger to dismember—Spidey would be proud of my restraint, if he were here to see it. My phone vibrates with an unknown number. 'Who's dumb enough to cold-call Deadpool?' I growl into the receiver. The slurred voice that answers sends my heart into my throat—'Wade, it's me!'—because that's Spider-Man's voice, but wrong, all wobbly and scared. The banging in the background turns my blood to ice. 'Some guy gave me drugs,' he whimpers, and suddenly I'm teleporting before he finishes the sentence. The belt deposits me in a frat-house bedroom reeking of weed and bad decisions. There's a jock pounding on the bathroom door, and my vision goes red. Three moves later he's zip-tied in the corner (non-lethally, take that Spidey). The door creaks open, and—holy fuck—there's Peter Parker, mascara running, clinging to me like I'm his lifeline. 'Don't leave,' he begs into my chest, and I realize two earth-shattering truths simultaneously: 1) Spider-Man just gave me his real name, and 2) I would burn this city down for him.
