Deadpool was not having a good day, but then again, not-good-days were generally his idea of good days. The only other sort he had was catastrophic-earth-smashing days.
He blinked at the bronze mirror in front of him. He was sitting in his apartment, on his old sofa which was now springing with springs and was a cherished home to a small community of peaceful cockroaches.
He'd been having a cleaning day. Usually, this consisted of grabbing massive piles of junk and lobbing it all into on Galactus-level pile of junk. Everyone knew that you didn't actually clean anything on cleaning days, didn't they?
Anyways, he had found the bronze mirror quite accidentally when his good old Mr. Huggikins ripped open. After he'd stopped crying over the loss of his dear stuffed bear, he'd noticed the mirror.
At first, he thought it was nothing more than an amateurish attempt by some rotten writer to begin some strange treasure hunting plot, but then the mirror had started to register in his memory and was now trying to log in.
Hence the blink.
"Mirror mirror in my hand," Boomed Deadpool in a dramatic baritone, "How many lame jokes can the reader stand?"
Unsurprisingly, the mirror did not respond.
"CURSE YOU BLOODY THINGAMIJ!" He roared smashing it on the floor repeatedly, as if locked in some invisible game of whack the mole.
Suddenly, the mirror started to glow.
The mad mercenary stopped and looked at it curiously. "Ooh, shiny, shiny." He said in a vaguely hypnotic way.
Then something clicked, and he remembered.
"Bloody knickers of Kratos," He whispered. "It was all real, wasn't it?"
Wade Wilson was not having a good day. but then again, not-good-days were generally his idea of good days. The only other sort he had was nearly-boiled-alive-by-monsters days.
He sighed at the bronze mirror in front of him. He was sitting in a forest, on a rotten log which was now crackling with cracks and was a fortress used by a large army of warlike termites.
He'd been on a quest. Usually, this consisted of him jumping from one bush full of monsters to a bush filled with bigger monsters, but that was demigod norm, wasn't it?
Anyways, he'd found the bronze mirror when it hit him in the head while he sat here. He'd felt like Newton; Every randomly falling antique object is pushed by a force consisting of mythical Greek gods, and antique object + demigod head = big lump.
He'd been wrestling with it for nearly an hour now, and he had achieved- wait for it- NOTHING. A very exciting superpower of nada, with the magical arts of nope.
Hence the sigh.
"Mirror mirror of the gods," he said hopefully, "Help me escape those accursed Lords?"
Unsurprisingly, the gods did not listen.
"Damn this!" He yelled, smashing it on a rock.
Suddenly, the mirror started to glow.
The Son of Ares looked at it curiously. "Did it work?" He asked cautiously.
Then there was a shift in the air, and he paused.
"There's something very big behind me isn't there."
Something growled.
"Bloody podex of Hitler." He said in a small voice.