I am glad that everyone enjoys this so much and I am doing my best to write as well as I can. A special thanks to Eternal Lancer and Tychon, who continuously reviews and gives insightful feedback on how to further better this story.
Lancer: Aw, how thoughtful!
Tychon: That means a lot. But, uh, where's Deadpool?
Goodralisk: I think he said he had to leave. Something about a vacation.
Lancer: Oh. I guess. Anyway, we have a show to run!
We do not own Fire Emblem, nor any medias mentioned.
Their caravan destroyed by the heavy terrain and the powerful elements, the Shepherds were rushing through the midmire, an area that was heavily raining, as if the world was weeping for the loss of two great people. It wasn't only the world, however. The Shepherds were also mourning the loss of a beloved sister, worshipped ruler, and a treasured friend. Both of these people, a man and a woman, cast aside their lives; one for the good of others, and the other did in a situation where he knew he'd lost. Some were affected by this more than others, like Chrom and Lissa.
They lost their beloved sister, the woman who had essentially raised them and was a symbol of strength and peace, and to feel helpless as she fell to her death killed them on the inside. Others were affected just as bad, like Robin, who felt the pressure of planning the failed rescue. He was disappointed in himself that when everyone depended on him most, he couldn't come through. And Raven, understandably emotional, cried with rage as he came to terms with the grim reminder that his king was dead. He looked up to the sky, as if the world sympathized with him in all of his devastation. He still held his perpetual soft smile, however, and let the rain wash over his face, the droplets doing their job of hiding his tears.
'I'm so sorry, Chrom,' Robin mused, tugging on the strings of his cowl. He couldn't find the pride in him to even face the prince, much less speak to him. 'I've… failed you.'
'I've failed as a knight, milord,' Frederick thought, even he looked to be on the verge of crying, the great knight gripping the reins of his horse tightly.
Those few were among many others who let their thoughts take hold of their duty at the moment, however, Basilio broke everyone out of their thoughts. "Speed it up, people! There are carriages waiting just through the ravine."
No one even had the heart to run, and slowed their pace as a result. The Shepherds simply either nodded and/or grunted in response, choosing to sulk and mourn rather than get out of the enemy territory. "C'mon, let's hustle, everyone! We haven't much time! Escape now, mourn later!" Basilio announced.
"I'm… I'm coming. We all are," Chrom replied. Robin stood by him, but averted his gaze. He hadn't even looked at Chrom after the rescue failed. Chrom turned his head to face forward until he saw Raven's face. Chrom felt a pang of hurt and solemn sympathy. Despite having lost someone well-loved himself, he even felt sorry for the swordsmaster. 'He's so strong… but I know he's hurting… all the same...' Chrom thought as he glanced at Raven's smiling face. The prince, while he could be dense, could still see the tears run down his face, even through his own watery ones.
"Quickly now! We're almost there!" Basilio said, then turned to see two brigands block the path twenty-five meters away. "Plegians! I knew it couldn't be that easy... They're right in our way! We must fight!"
The rest of the squad approached them, though unlike any of the Plegian forces they've encountered, they seemed hesitant, unwilling. Like they were reluctant to fight. As the Shepherds moved into defensive position, the group parted and their leader walked through. He was bald, but had a full face of hair, his beard short, yet wild. "Ylisseans, I am General Mustafa of Plegia. I offer you mercy. Only if you surrender to me will you keep your lives. Resist, and you will have to fight for them!"
"Surrender?" Basilio asked, puzzled. "Sorry, I'm not familiar with the word."
"I do not want to come to blows, so I request that you concede," Mustafa pleaded. "Emmeryn would not have wished for this to come to bloodshed."
Upon hearing that statement, Chrom went from gloomy to angry in an instant, the rage burned bright in his eyes. "How dare you speak her name!" He drew his sword immediately, ready to fight.
"Your rage is justified, Prince Chrom," the Plegian general replied. "Lay down your weapons, please, and I will try my hardest to protect you all."
"And you wish for us to trust you after what your king has done?!" Frederick cut in. "I believe we shall risk the consequences!"
"As expected," Mustafa said. "Very well, Prince. I shall grant you a swift and dignified death, then."
His troops were getting ready to fight, but not out of duty to their king, but out of the lack of free will, they were forced to. Each soldier looked around with hesitance until one of them walked up to the general. "Forgive me, sir, but I...I no longer see the justice in hunting these people down." The soldier dropped his lance at Mustafa's feet. "I shall accept any punishment you deem sufficient, but after all that's happened...I just can't. I won't."
The Shepherds were surprised. There were actually Plegians with a heart and a wish for peace. "These questions are not ours to ponder, lad," Mustafa said solemnly. "The soldier does not judge. The soldier delivers judgment."
"Sir, I am truly sorry. However, I cannot raise my lance against them, I have no reason or will to. Even if death is the price I must pay."
Mustafa raised his head in understanding. "You were present when Emmeryn spoke, weren't you?" Receiving a nod, he turned to the rest of his men. "Very well, then. Those of you unwilling to fight are dismissed!"
"What about you, sir?" another soldier asked. "You can't possibly say you will take them all on yourself!"
Mustafa cringed. "I cannot defy the king, lad. I know him well. He would murder my wife and child to set an example. I will accept the blame for your actions today. Now go!"
The Shepherds were about to move until Chrom lifted his hand, signaling them to stand down. "I'll fight him. It wouldn't be fair unless it was a one-on-one." Said prince drew Falchion from his sheath as the Plegian general brandished his axes, ready, albeit reluctantly, to defeat the blunette. "Here I come, Prince!" Mustafa shouted. Chrom ran at him, Falchion dragging on the ground causing sparks to fly. Mustafa blocked the slash received by the prince and retaliated with a single-handed axe swing that Chrom had no choice but to back away from the attack, barely dodging the swing. A split-second after the attack, Mustafa threw a miniature tomahawk at him, forcing the prince to have to roll out of the way. The Plegian general tried to keep the distance between him and the Ylissean, so he kept on trying to keep him at bay with almost twenty tomahawks he brought with him. This time, Chrom was ready and every tomahawk Mustafa threw, Chrom either sidestepped out of the way, or he knocked them out of mid-air. Managing to close the distance, Chrom stabbed the berserker in his leg and punched him in the face, knocking him back a few feet. Chrom swung his sword low to take his opponent's legs from underneath him, but Mustafa flipped over the axe with surprising agility and blocked Chrom's follow-up vertical strike with both axes, slashing Chrom's leg.
Rolling away from Chrom, the Plegian put a few berries in his mouth and once Chrom got closer, he tried to spit the poisonous mist at him, then once the prince was deterred, Mustafa moved in for the strike. However, Chrom saw this and took away one of his axes and went for an high slash, but Mustafa dodged and slashed him instead. Chrom moved, and once he saw Mustafa's back, he drew a red line up his back. The Plegian general wasn't ready to give up, and he knocked Chrom a few meters away with a large swing. His opponent crouching on the ground, Mustafa was ready to end things and pounced on the prince, intent to finish him. However, Chrom had baited him, waiting for him to descend onto his blade.
As Falchion entered his gut, Mustafa's body went limp and he fell to the ground as Chrom withdrew his blade. "Well done, Prince…" Mustafa croaked. "Please… please spare… Spare my men…" And as such, Chrom respected his wish and let his men go unharmed.
However, the same could not be said with Raven. "Raven, what are you doing?!" Chrom questioned as Raven drew his sword, the weapon dragging across the mud was the only answer Chrom received. Raven said nothing as he snarled through his teeth, the white blade Uramasa erupting in flame. The flames sizzled against the constant downpour but persisted unabated, as if to show the rage within him that could not be quelled. All the Shepherds could do at this point was turn away for the most part.
"You speak of peace… YET YOU LOT MURDERED MY KING! WHERE WERE YOU WHEN HE STOOD ATOP THOSE HILLS WITH STEEL AT HIS THROAT, HUH?!" Raven swung his sword, a torrent of fire following the steel. "YOU STOOD THERE AND WATCHED! I HOPE YOU'VE MADE PEACE WITH YOUR LIVES, BECAUSE THEY END HERE!"
The Plegian soldiers waved their hands in fear as the Pandorian approached them. "Now see here-"
A squelch was heard as a man was cleft in two by his waist, his top half falling to the ground and the bottom half becoming a fountain of blood before falling soon after. "I've had enough of you Plegian scum." Even still, rather than react in rage for this brutal killing of an unwilling comrade, the Plegian soldiers did nothing but throw their weapons down as they awaited what was coming to them, and oh boy, did Raven deliver. One of the first moments he'd ever been angry in his life, his anger tore through their ranks mercilessly. Blind, the swordsmaster sent limbs and corpses flying through the air, blood staining the dirt and his coat rather heavily. He simply killed and killed and killed more, not truly unaware of what he was doing.
He left nothing to survive his blade save for one, the solemn soldier begging him for peace. "Please, I beg of you, stay your blade!"
Raven gave no response. Instead, he stuck his blade into the head of a corpse on the ground before sending his gloved fist into the face of the last remaining soldier, putting him down to the mud. Without warning, Raven pounced on the man, dropping his fist through his face until he drew blood, he didn't stop there. He continued relentlessly, smashing in the Plegian's face repeated until the victim's face was nothing but a completely unrecognizable bloody pulp of flesh and shattered bone. He would have continued on the lifeless mass before him had he not been sent careening towards the ground himself. He looked up at the attacker, only to see a mop of red with and outstretched arm. It was Cordelia who punched him to the ground.
"Get your head together, Raven!" Cordelia yelled. Lightning struck the land, illuminating her features. Her hair, now drenched by the storm, matted against her fair porcelain skin. Raven saw the anger in her face, and disappointment. But he also saw the same grief in her face that he had himself. "Look what you've done! He didn't want to fight, none of them did!" And once he took a gander, he retched, throwing up everything he had in his stomach. He had a fair share of bloodshed and combat in his day and not once had he done something so horrific. So the fact that he did what he did, with his bare hands no less, disgusted him far more than he thought imaginable.
"Do you think Eric would have wanted this? To see you murder the helpless and unwilling?" Raven's head came up to match her gaze at these words. "As much as Eric hated Plegia, he would have never done something like this."
Cordelia took a few steps past the carnage Raven had committed to. "It's not just you…" she whispered. "We're all hurting." Try as she might, her voice broke and she couldn't stop trembling, and the swordsmaster caught on to this. "You think I'm fine knowing that my l-" She paused to stop herself from voicing what her heart had at the forefront of her tongue. "-that Eric was killed? What's worse, I couldn't even save him. It broke my heart."
Raven couldn't believe what it was he was hearing. "You… you love milord, don't you?" he whispered barely enough for Cordelia to hear. She nodded sadly, letting the tears flow free. She, unfortunately, had to comes to terms with the fact that he was gone, and would have to move on. But how could she? Aside from Chrom and Sumia, Eric was the only one who went out of his way to show kindness to her just because he enjoyed seeing her smile. Someone like that to her was irreplaceable. He left a void in her heart that would never be replaced.
"But we just need to keep going," she muttered. "Keep going and don't stop. We will bring Gangrel down."
"Yes. But first, we need to make it to Ferox first," Basilio cut in. The Shepherds marched by the man slowly bleeding to death, along past the bloody path Raven laid out, and continued to march to Ferox. A clacking that gradually grew louder could be heard, which cause Basilio to perk up. Moments later, a carriage pulled up and driving it was a pink-haired petite woman. "Khan Basilio!" she called. "When I didn't hear from you, I assumed the worst. Is everything alright?"
"Sorry we kept you waiting, Olivia," the affable khan replied. "Chrom? Meet Olivia. She'll be smuggling us out of here."
"Yes, but we have to hurry!" she exclaimed. "Many of Gangrel's men are most likely on their way."
"Okay, everyone, pile in! And bid goodbye to this Plegian hellhole."
As the Shepherds got ready and took off, a low guttural groan was let out. Left on the ground, Mustafa was in extreme pain, but he could still see somewhat, he could still hear, albeit barely, and if done quickly, he could still live. As Mustafa was ready to accept death, a man in a full black cloak that draped his entire body met Mustafa's side. "Hey, man. Are you good? Are you still alive?" he asked. The Plegian replied with a weak nod. "Your wounds look pretty bad, but it looks like I can still heal you. I should still be in time."
The injured warrior reached out to the cloaked saviour that loomed above him. "I can't… If… If my king... If he found out… that I let the Ylisseans… escape alive, he'd… He'd murder my family..."
"Never mind that," the cloaked figure retorted. "He will get a taste of justice soon enough."
A week and a half later, the rescue team stood in the throne room in the East-Khan's castle. The air was thick of grief and sorrow, and like in the midmire, everyone was either mourning their losses or reviewing the events to see what they could've done to get their desired result.
"I can't believe it…" Robin began. "All of our efforts… They were for naught…"
"I should've died sooner than allow the exalt to be captured," Frederick solemnly sighed. "I've failed as a knight."
"Damn it… What a time to regain full power of the throne," Flavia said.
Robin clenched his fist. "Chrom, I'm... I'm so sorry, this was my fault. My plan just wasn't enough."
"No, Robin." Chrom placed his hand on the tactician's shoulder. "You did all you could. It's my own failures that haunt me now." Grinding his teeth and gripping his sword tight, Chrom finally threw Falchion on ground and knelt on the ground, his head hung in defeat. "Gods, I was just so powerless! He played me like a puppet… he controlled me so… so easily!"
"It's not your fault either, Chrom," Robin stated. "No one is to blame here."
"She did it for me, Robin. They both did. To save me from the guilt of having to make the choice, they chose for me."
Robin roughly took him from the back of his shirt and lifted him off of the ground, then turned the prince to face him. "R-Robin…"
"I was powerless once, too, remember? And yes, alone, I don't think either one of us is half the person your sister was." Robin picked up Falchion. "But together...maybe we can be something more. If you fall, I'll be there to pull you back up. When you fight for your sister's ideals, I'll be by your side, just as easily as Falchion rests at yours."
Raising the divine blade up to eye level, Robin continued, pointing it at Chrom. "You don't have to become your sister, you know. You can still be true to yourself. You just have to give people hope in whatever way you can."
"And what if I am unable to do so? What if I'm not worthy of her ideals? Robin, what if I drag you down with me? What if-"
Chrom was cut off by Robin once more. "Enough with the "what ifs". If you aren't worthy, you'll keep at it until you are." Then a friendly smile graced Robin's face. "And if we both fall down, well, that's what friends are for, isn't it?"
Wiping a stray tear, Chrom took Falchion and sheathed it. "You're… You're right, Robin."
"Two things you should know about me. One: I'm never wrong. Two: If I am… Refer back to the first," Robin joked, sharing a short laugh with the prince.
"But in all seriousness, you honor me with your loyalty." Chrom looked out to the Shepherds. "You all do. I will not lose to him again! Once the Mad King is stopped, this outrage shall be answered!"
"I'd like to go, too, if I may," Olivia added. "The exalt did me a kindness once. It would honor me to have a part in giving her justice! Although all I can do is dance... And I'm not so skilled at that, if we're being honest…"
"Har har! She's too modest for Naga's sake!" Basilio laughed, placing a hand on her shoulder, causing her to blush furiously by the attention. "Olivia is a Feroxi treasure. Trust me when I say it'd be wise to bring her along, Commander."
Chrom raised a brow.""Commander"? What ever happened to "boy"?"
"I think you've earned the title," Basilio retorted. "Now where was I? Oh, right! I was ready to start busting some skulls!" he added, smashing his fist into his palm. "We'll divide into groups. We have roughly three hundred, so we'll split into centuries. Flavia, you and I will lead each century, and once Flavia and I open up their ranks a little, we'll send you in against them." Basilio slapped Chrom on the back. "Hear that, boy? You get the fun part!"
"I thought you weren't going to call me b-"
"You and Robin have my every confidence," the West-Khan said, cutting the prince off, much to his annoyance. "You're a born leader, and he has a gift for guiding troops to victory. Together, you both have a gift of performing miracles. You both still have some growing to do, but I can already see you'll grow tall."
Chrom smiled. "Thanks… old man," he added with a chuckle.
"Even in death, Eric torments me," Basilio sighed, followed by laughter from everyone. "Enough talk! It's time to raise some hell! Gangrel may try to hit us while we're still licking our wounds, so we must strike as quickly as possible."
Chrom placed his hand on Falchion's pommel. "He can try it. But I'm ready to dethrone him, once and for all."
Meanwhile, Tharja was fidgeting around with the piece of paper she held in her hand. Glancing over to Raven, she tried to get his attention without drawing attention to herself. After countless attempts in the main hall as everyone spoke, she grabbed him and pulled him to a rather lonely wing of the castle. Startled, Raven was really to bury a chop right into the nape of her neck before she whispered to him not to. "Sweet Naga, you scared the hell out of me," Raven whispered. "What are you-"
"Shut up!" Tharja interrupted him. She looked around to make sure no one was watching. "I have something to tell you, but it can't get out, okay? It'll ruin everything if you do."
"What plan? What are you going on about?" Raven asked, confused. Without a word, Tharja simply hands him the piece of paper. Hesitant, the swordsmaster reads the first few lines before looking like he almost fainted. "This… is…"
"Keep reading," Tharja ordered. He did as he was told and continued to read the slip of paper. It was only a small piece of paper, but it shocked and surprised Raven more than anything ever had before. Halfway through, he covered his mouth in shock and joy, unable to fully contained his emotion. Once Raven finished reading the note, he crumpled it up unintentionally in his hand. Tharja was about to say something before she was trapped in a hug by the swordsmaster. "Thank you so much, Miss Tharja. I am truly in your debt," he said quietly, smiling more than he had in the last few weeks.
"We'd better hurry," she whispered as they broke the hug. "I can teleport you to the outskirts of the northern side of Themis, but that's as far as I can go without exhausting myself completely. You'll have to walk the rest of the way."
"It matters not, Miss Tharja! Let's go!" After making sure neither were being watched once more, Tharja uttered an incantation and with a couple of magic runes, they were off.
After thanking Tharja for sending him to where he needed to be, Raven made off in a mad dash towards Themis. Sprinting through the forest path, one would be surprised a trail of blazing fire wasn't left in his wake, closing in the kilometer or two in a matter of a few moments, less than a minute for sure. Making it to the city, Raven saw that it was a rather fancy place built on a nice plateau, looking out to the desert line that was Plegia. Knowing that it would be crazy to ask every single person, Raven simply followed the instruction and made his way to the outer parts of town. As the high rising mansions shrunk down to grassy plains, Raven searched high and low for hours before making his way to a cliff, and standing tall and proud at the tip was a cloaked man of tall height. His cowl was up, covering his head. This man had his arms crossed, simply staring at the sun hanging low in the sky.
"So you've finally come, I see," the man said.
His smile came back once again. "Yes… yes I have."
The cloaked figure removed the cowl and faced him, showing his smiling face. "I'll explain everything soon enough. But right now… it's time to train."
Gangrel stood in one of the forts on the border of Plegia and Ylisse, what most would call the North Trebes Waste. Known for its barren wasteland completely unable to grow any sort of crops or plentiful vegetation in most cases, it had seen many battle, thousands of boots to step upon it, and countless casualties. Aversa flew in from scouting the soon-to-be battlefield, and not as blood soaked as it once was, its history would soon speak for itself. "Milord. The enemy has taken position on the field."
Gangrel cracked a demented grin. "Back already? Ha! It feels as though we just said our goodbyes…"
"They seemed to be in surprisingly good spirits today."
"Who cares?" the Mad King replied. "They're nothing compared to us! I could break their ranks singlehandedly as easily as I break wind."
Aversa tried to stifle a small laugh. "I'd pay to hear the bards make a song of that." At that moment, while king and advisor were enjoying themselves, a soldier entered the fortification, out of breath.
"Your Highness! Dire… Dire news! Our troops are laying down their weapons and deserting in large numbers! Over half of our men have left us, sire!" Then the soldier got on one knee and bowed his head. "Please, sire... I am but a messenger... Have mercy upon me…" Meanwhile in the far distance, on a dusty plateau a respectable distance away from Gangrel, Chrom and Robin were discussing their strategy for their final battle against the Mad King.
"Damn it, it's been like a month now," Chrom cursed. "Naga only knows where Raven is."
"Let's be real here." Robin ran a hand through his hair. "His only motivation for being in the Shepherds is gone, did you really expect him to stay?"
"Not really," Chrom sighed. "But his skills would have really helped a lot here. Plegia's forces are sitting at little under one thousand, ours only three hundred."
"Do you have such little faith in me, Chrom?" Robin said in mock offense. "Why, I'm shocked!"
"Okay, okay," Chrom laughed. "We do have a tendency to win when the odds are stacked. I'm fairly certain we got this."
"Exactly."
As if to pass some sort of omen, Frederick returned from scouting the area ahead. Sure, there wasn't much to worry about, but one couldn't be too cautious. "Milord, I've a report from Khan Flavia. The Plegian army is in disarray. It seems many of their soldiers are opposed to further violence. Gangrel is trying to stamp out the mutiny by force, but with little success. Outside of a few faithful who serve him directly, his army has all but collapsed, falling into number rivalling ours. Five hundred at most."
"This is great news. But why…?" Chrom trailed off for a moment, then finally realized the reason. "Emmeryn."
"Yes, milord. The report says Gangrel's men chant her name as they abandon the field. The exalt's words and sacrifice have made her a hero of sorts."
"Emmeryn... Why did it take me so long to understand? She believed all people desire peace. She knew, deep down, the Plegians wanted it, too. It just took her to bring it to the surface. She touches the hearts of all men, women, and children and fills them with compassion… something few can do."
Chrom looked up to the sun hiding behind the dark clouds. "I hope she can see this, wherever she is... Today we put an end to Mad King Gangrel once and for all. Shepherds!" he called, marching down onto the flat land to meet Gangrel's forces. The Feroxi and Ylissean men stomped in unison with a purposeful boom, alerting the Mad King as he gathered his men like a stage director getting his actors ready for a play. The Ylissean-Feroxi army matched their gaze with the Plegian army, the tension almost palpable. If one could measure the scale of the battlefield, they would find Chrom was right. They were outnumbered, but not nearly as much as they thought; Gangrel's forces were five hundred strong, as opposed to the allied forces being only three hundred strong.
"Well hello, my little princeling!" Gangrel said to Chrom over the distance of a football field or two at most. "Have you come to retrieve your pancake of a sister?"
"No. I've come to kill you. Today, you shall find your grave, and peace will reign in Plegia finally and Ylisse once more."
"Cut the crap about peace! You hate me, nothing more! You want nothing more than to get my blood on your blade! No man knows about peace. None!"
"I know more than you ever will," Chrom retorted. "However, there may be some truth to your words. "I cannot forgive men like you—men who seek darkness and chaos. Those like you who are pure evil. From everything you've done to me... Were I alone, I might be driven to madness. But I'm not alone. My friends and brothers-in-arms stand behind me."
"Don't sugar-coat it, prince! Men are beasts! Nothing more! We kill! We devour! Beasts do not stand behind beasts, little prince… They use each other and once they've exceeded their use, it's done!"
"Is that the reason why your own soldiers refuse to stand behind you?" Chrom spat. "You are a poison. Toxic to all around you. And I plan to wipe you from this earth and wash its hands of your filth!"
"Such a clever tongue you have, little prince... It will look quite fetching hanging on my mantle, next to your sister's corpse!" Gangrel raised his hand. "Mages! Let loose your magic, and hold nothing back!"
All of his magic users recited enchantments of many kinds and shot a variety of different offensive magic types at the Ylissean Guard. Swirling and morphing, they all fused into one orb and it zoomed towards them all. Coming in fast, it bared down on the Ylisse-Feroxi alliance, intent on consuming a large portion of their numbers as it grew bigger with every meter passed. It was about a dozen meters away from them, give or take, before it was somehow halted. With the size of the orb, it kicked up a large amount of dust, cloaking the surrounding area and making it hard to see anything. But what couldn't be seen was definitely heard, as voices made their marks.
"Come on, milord, you could have at least made it seem like you were trying," one voice, a tad bit feminine said. "Would want the fight to be so boring, what with them giving up and all."
"What can I say?" a much deeper voice replied. "I guess I just don't know my own strength yet."
"I suppose. That Mad King is in for it now, wouldn't you agree?"
"Oh, his head is mine. For sure." The figure laughed. The Shepherds considered the thought of them completely hallucinating, there wasn't any way possible that who they thought was there was actually there. Perhaps he was a ghost, or a simple lookalike. That all changed once the dust had begun to settle.
The prince caught sight of the taller man holding his dark purple katana. "It… Y-You… I-It can't be…! Is that you… Eric?!"
"In the flesh," he said as he removed the cowl, revealing his face.
CLIFFHANGER! I'm pretty sure everyone expected this, but if you didn't then that's fine too. And I am done exams! I'm also going to be taking the reins in narrating the story from here on out. Thanks, Deadpool and Lancer, for all of your help.
Deadpool: (over Skype)Yeah, yeah, yeah...
G: Come on, don't be like that. You did well.
Deadpool: *sigh* I guess so.
Lancer: Thank you as well, Lisk.
Deadpool: If I may?
Goodralisk: Yeah?
Deadpool: Eric… it's been a wonderful two years together. And I will admit that much. However, I feel like this will be for the better.
Goodralisk: You don't mean…
Deadpool: I quit, motherfuckers!
Goodralisk: ...way to kill the mood.
Deadpool: As we say in Brazil… hasta la vista, douchebags! (Ends Skype call)
Goodralisk, Lancer, and Tychon: ….the fuck?
Goodralisk: Um. We out. I guess…?
