In the back of a taxi, Deadpool sits in his jumpsuit and mask, with Balochi music playing in the background. He grabs at a pamphlet for 'Haunted Segway Tours' from a setback and stuffs it into a pouch on his belt. He fiddles with the window control and undulates his hand outside as the car drives along, feeling the wind whooshing through his fingers. He pulls a wad of chewed gum off the roof above him and flicks it off his glove. It lands on the camera lens, and he wipes it off. He pops his head next to the driver through a small window that separates the backseat from the driver's seat.

"Kinda lonesome back here," Deadpool said. Deadpool grunts as he moves his way to the front seat from the small window. "Yeah, little help." He climbs clumsily into the front, momentarily flashing his red jumpsuit-clad crotch towards the camera.

"Okay, um, just, I have to keep my hands on the wheel," the driver said, clearly uncomfortable by the situation.

"Excuse me. Whoo!" Deadpool exclaimed, relieved at having gotten himself situated and having found some company to talk to.

The driver chuckles at this. "Farooq," the driver introduces himself.

"Pool. Dead." Deadpool introduces himself, shaking Farooq's hand. Deadpool's attention is then grabbed by the photo of a woman situated next to an air freshener. "Hmm, nice."

Farooq sniffs the air, assuming Deadpool is referring to the air freshener, titled 'Peppermint Patty. "Smells good, doesn't it?"

"Not the Peppermint Patty. The girl," Deadpool clarified.

"Ah, yes. Nanjiani," Farooq said, upbeat at the mention of the girl's name. "She is quite lovely. She would have made me a very agreeable wife. But, um..." His mood suddenly sours. "Nanjiani's heart has been stolen by my cousin Kumail. He is as dishonorable as he is attractive." Hints of anger and jealousy swarm around Farooq's words like bees around flowers during pollination season.

Underneath his mask, a revelation smacks Deadpool right in the face, and he turns towards Farooq. "Farooq, I'm starting to think there's a reason I'm in this cab today."

"Yeah, sir, you called for it, remember?" Farooq said, misinterpreting Deadpool's meaning.

"No, my slender brown friend. Love is a beautiful thing." Farooq nods, believing he understands what Deadpool is trying to tell him. "When you find it, the whole world tastes like Peppermint Patty." Farooq grunts in understanding. "So you gotta hold onto love..." Deadpool holds up his pinky finger, with Farooq doing the same. They proceed to link pinkies. "...tight!" Farooq winces in pain at Deadpool's grip on his pinky. "And never let go. Don't make the same mistakes I did. Got it?"

"Yeah," Farooq said, nodding slightly, allowing for Deadpool to let go of his pinky.

"Or else the whole word tastes like Mama June after hot yoga."

"Sir, what does Miss Mama June taste like?"

"Like two hobos fucking in a shoe filled with piss," Deadpool clarified. "I can go all day, Farooq."

"Okay, enough," Farooq said, grossed out and not wanting to hear any more idioms pertaining towards Mama June.

"The point is, it's bad!" Farooq nods in agreement.

"Uh, why the fancy red suit, Mr. Pool?" Farooq asks, intrigued.

"Oh, that's because it's Christmas Day, Farooq," Deadpool answered. "And I'm after someone on my naughty list. I've been waiting one year, nine weeks, three days and, oh..." He proceeds to check his watch, which is themed after 'Burt Reynolds', to make sure he has his timing right. "4 minutes to make him fix what he did to me."

"And what did he do to you, Mr. Pool?"

"This shit." He pulls up his mask, revealing his severely scarred face. "Boo!"


On an airfield, an African American man with a bald head sits cooly and eats an orange as he watches a large helicopter land, as some goons stand idly by, the sound of chopper blades filling the air. A man with a thick, dark gray mustache approaches from the chopper with two men in army uniforms behind him. The African American man pats a large metal case.

"They won't disappoint," he said as he stood.

"They'd better not," the man with the mustache said. "And what about next month's shipment?" the man insinuated.

"There won't be one," the African American man answered. "You're not the only one with a war to win, Mr. Trexler."

Trexler doesn't appear satisfied. "That won't do." The two men eye each other.

The African American man inhales deeply, slightly annoyed by Trexler's persistence. "See, we've had this small disruption to our supply chain..." He proceeds to lift Trexler off his feet by the throat, holding him in the air with one hand. Trexler's army men and the man's goons draw their weapons, preparing themselves for the worse. "We'd appreciate your patience, Len."

Seeing that he doesn't have many options at the moment, Trexler relents. "Okay," he said.

The African American man appears satisfied by this answer. "We'll deliver in full the following month." He releases him, allowing for Trexler to catch his breath, and for Trexler's army men and the man's goons to lower their weapons. "Pleasure doing business with you." The younger man walks away.

"Fucking mutant," Trexler says in disgust, as he turns back towards the helicopter while his army men grab the metal crates.

A caravan of SUVs, motorcycles, and a truck drives off the airfield, as the helicopter containing Trexler, his men, and the shipment fly off to parts unknown.


Back in the taxi, Deadpool pats his suit and checks the backseat, anxious. "Oh, shit!" He yells out in anger. "I forgot my ammo bag."

"Shall we turn back?" Farooq asked.

"No, no time," Deadpool said, annoyed at having made such a stupid mistake. "Fuck it, I got this." He pulls out his handgun and counts the bullets in his magazine. "9, 10, 11, 12 bullets..." He loads up his handgun with the amount of bullets he currently has on hand. "Or bust. Right here!"

Farooq, startled, hastily slams on the brakes, smack dab in the middle of the bridge, his tires screeching as he comes to a halt. Several drivers honk on their horns as they pass him, not understanding the current situation and perceiving him as rude.

Farooq proceeds to check his speedometer to figure out the total cost of the trip. "That's, uh, $20.09."

"I... I never carry a wallet when I'm working," Deadpool said. "Ruins the lines of my suit." Farooq looks displeased by this. "But, uh, how about a crisp high five?" Deadpool holds up a hand, which Farooq takes a consolidation. "Merry Christmas." Deadpool proceeds to exit the vehicle and heads towards the edge of the bridge.

"And a convivial Thursday in September to you too, Pool!" Farooq called out to him, wishing him luck on whatever endeavor Deadpool has in store for the future.