Episode 2- dont call me Deadpool

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by F1mikeg

by F1mikeg

It was a crisp evening in the city of Emon, and the vibrant hum of the tavern filled the air as laughter, clinking tankards, and excited voices melded into a raucous symphony. On a worn and weathered table in the corner of the Drunken Dragon, a band of heroes sat, recounting their recent escapades with drinks that always seemed to refill themselves.

Among the rowdy crew were Percy, with his meticulously crafted inventions and a goblet of deep red wine; Pike, clad in her light armor, cradling a mug of ale; Grog, who was polishing off a turkey leg as if it were a meager snack; Scanlan, strumming his lute and embellishing tales of their feats; and the twins, Vax and Vex, playfully bickering over whose turn it was to sing the next ballad.

But they weren't just any adventurers; they were Vox Machina, legendary in their own right, and they had a special guest among them: Jamie, their first superhero who had been with them for a few months since he get back to the 21st century . Known as Nighthawk, he was more than just a man in a mask—he had a knack for breaking the fourth wall, causing much confusion but endless laughter whenever he made a quip or pointed out a narrative cliché. As a self-proclaimed protector of the night, he took especially great pride in his ability to call people on their shit.

After a round of whiskey shots, Jamie leaned back in his chair, adjusting the sleek dark jacket that glinted beneath the tavern's low lights. "All right, listen up, team," he began, a playful grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. "Before we dive into the next adventure, there's something I need to say."

"Let me guess," Scanlan said, eyebrow raised, "you want us to stop eating all the bar snacks before you get a chance to pay for them."

"Actually, that was last week's issue," Jamie replied, rolling his eyes theatrically. "What I really want to address is this ridiculous comparison to Deadpool. I'm not that unhinged! I'm way cooler, don't you think?"

Pike giggled, her eyes sparkling with mischief. "Only because you wear black, Jamie. It's the standard superhero attire—but the attitude? That's all you."

"I mean," Grog chimed in, nodding solemnly, "you do have that whole 'violent yet funny' vibe going on—as well as the smug comments about your own life. Seems pretty Deadpool-y to me."

Vax, smirk firmly in place, leaned back and crossed his arms. "Sure, you like breaking the fourth wall, Jamie, but how many times have you crashed the moment by pointing out tropes? Remember that time you made the villain fall into a cliché without even fighting him?"

"Hey, that's valid strategy!" Jamie shot back. "Besides, everyone knows that was just comic relief. And let's be real, I'm a much better dancer than Deadpool."

Vex burst out laughing, her sharp wit on full display. "As if your moves could ever rival mine, Nighthawk! You've got the grace of a drunken goat."

As the banter between them escalated into a playful roast session, the tavern's warm, flickering lights seemed to shine just a bit brighter, drawing in other patrons with their laughter. Jamie, finding comfort among his new friends, decided to take a moment for himself.

"Okay, hold on." He raised a finger, calling for attention. "I may break the rules, but I'm no one-dimensional character. If we ever face an epic showdown, I can't just prance around making wisecracks, right? I mean, Deadpool can't even keep a good relationship—it's mainly just about the humor!"

"Touché!" Scanlan admitted, lifting his glass in salute. "But you need to admit there's a little twinge of jealousy when you see the way he can slip in and out of genres and meta-commentary so effortlessly."

Jamie rolled his eyes dramatically. "Oh please! You know what I dislike most about that comparison?"

"What?" Keyleth, who had been sipping her drink quietly, asked curiously.

"Deadpool never had the honor of drinking with such an incredible group—Vox Machina, more than any zany anti-hero I know! You lot are complex, deep, and filled with varying shades of heroism and humor. I mean, we defied gods and faced our own traumas together! Besides," he continued, "the thought of being likened to a guy who breaks the fourth wall without a clue of who he is sounds a little... tragic, don't you think?"

Percy raised his goblet. "To Vox Machina then! To our journey together and the bonds we've forged, far surpassing anything that quirky wannabe in red spandex could achieve."

They lifted their drinks in a highly orchestrated cheer, the clinking of glass ringing out as a testament to their camaraderie. Jamie basked in the moment, feeling truly accepted among these people he considered family. Even if they occasionally teased him about being like Deadpool, each jab was laced with warmth and connection.

Through laughter, light-hearted banter, and the action-packed tales of past adventures, the weight of Jamie's monumental task as Nighthawk seemed lighter, magically intertwined with the essence of the friends who surrounded him. In that bar, among the familiar faces and the sound of raucous laughter, Jamie found not just acceptance but a home. And as the night wore on, he realized that sometimes, facing the harshest comparisons could yield the sweetest moments of truth.