A sharp, resoundingthwipbroke through the chaotic symphony of car alarms and distant sirens that marked a typical night in New York City. Spider-Man swung expertly between buildings, the glow of his mask's lenses reflecting the streetlights below.

"Another Tuesday," he muttered to himself, scanning the city for anything suspicious. His web-swinging momentum carried him to a rooftop overlooking an alley where faint clanging sounds echoed.

Peter paused, crouching on the edge of the roof. He strained his ears. Clang. .

"Great," he sighed. "Just what I needed—a late-night raccoon invasion."

Leaping silently from his perch, Peter stuck to the alley wall and peered downward. What he saw made him regret every life choice that had led him to this moment.

Deadpool was there, crouched in a dumpster, furiously rummaging through piles of trash like he was on a scavenger hunt.

"I'm forgetting something," Deadpool muttered, tossing a broken umbrella behind him.

Spider-Man stared for a moment before reluctantly chiming in. "Your dignity, maybe?"

Deadpool's masked head whipped up. "Spidey! Thank goodness you're here! I knew you'd come!"

"I didn'tcome," Peter corrected, leaping to the ground. "I heard banging and thought someone might be, you know,in of course, it's just you… dumpster diving."

Deadpool hopped out of the dumpster with a flourish, landing with the grace of a drunk ballerina. "Dumpsterexploring,thank you very much. It's like urban archaeology. You wouldn't understand."

Peter crossed his arms, his patience already wearing thin. "Okay, I'll bite. What are you forgetting?"

Deadpool struck a pose, one hand on his chin like a statue in deep thought. "That's the million-dollar question, isn't it? It's on the tip of my brain, but I can't quite grab it. It's definitely important, though."

"Morals, probably?" Peter quipped, deadpan.

Deadpool gasped, clutching his chest. "Morals?! Spidey, I'm hurt. Truly. Mortally wounded!" He stumbled backward dramatically before collapsing against the dumpster. "My moral compass may wobble like a drunk pigeon, but it's still pointing somewhere!"

"Yeah, somewhere south."

Deadpool sat up abruptly. "No, no, it's not that. It's… ugh, it'ssomething else." He pointed a gloved finger at Spider-Man. "You're good at solving mysteries, right? Help me out here, Scooby-Doo!"

Peter sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose under the mask. "I can't believe I'm doing this, but fine. Let's retrace your steps. What were you doing before you ended up in this dumpster?"

Deadpool rubbed his chin. "Good question. Let's see… oh! I was at the taco truck!"

"Of course, you were," Peter muttered.

"And then I was walking down 8th Avenue when it hit me. A sudden realization! I was forgetting somethinghuge!" Deadpool threw his arms wide for emphasis.

"And your first instinct was to dive into a dumpster?"

"Well, I thought maybe I left it in here."

Peter tilted his head. "Left what? You still don't know what it is!"

Deadpool snapped his fingers. "Exactly! That's the mystery! It's like a scavenger hunt, except instead of clues, I have existential dread."

Peter shook his head. "Okay, let's simplify this. What's something important you could be forgetting? Keys? Wallet? A ridiculously overpriced chimichanga?"

"Nope, got all those," Deadpool said, patting his utility belt. "And by the way, chimichangas are priceless, thank you very much."

Peter rubbed the back of his neck. "What about an appointment? Mission? …Explosion you were supposed to stop?"

Deadpool shrugged. "Eh, if it was an explosion, it probably already happened. No use crying over detonated C4."

Peter glared at him. "That's not how responsibility works, Wade."

"Responsibility?!" Deadpool scoffed. "Pfft. Who needs responsibility when you have guns, swords, and devastatingly good looks?" He struck a ridiculous pose, flexing his arms for no one in particular.

Peter groaned. "Fine. Let's try this—what were yousupposedto do today?"

Deadpool paused, tapping his chin. "Well, I was supposed to meet Weasel, but that's not it. Then I had a dance-off planned with Cable—still not it. Oh, and there was that guy who owed me money!"

"Did you collect it?" Peter asked, already regretting the question.

Deadpool nodded proudly. "Yep! I mean, not all of it, but close enough. I'll get the rest next time he regains consciousness."

Peter blinked. "I'm just… not going to ask. But none of that explains why you think you're forgetting something important."

Deadpool's head tilted. "Wait a sec… didn't I call you earlier?"

Peter frowned. "No?"

Deadpool snapped his fingers again. "Ah-ha! That's it! I called you! I needed your help with something!"

Peter threw his hands in the air. "You're kidding me. You dragged me into this dumpster nightmare because you forgot why you called me?!"

Deadpool shrugged sheepishly. "My bad."

Peter took a deep breath, counting to ten. "Alright. Let's just—wait." His Spidey-Sense tingled sharply. He spun around, scanning the alley.

"What's up?" Deadpool asked, drawing a pistol reflexively.

Peter pointed to a blinking red light on the side of the dumpster. His lenses widened. "Wade. Please tell me you didn't leave a bomb in here."

Deadpool tilted his head. "Bomb? Oh! Right! That's what I was forgetting!"

"What?!"

Deadpool scratched the back of his head. "So, funny story. Earlier, I was dismantling this bomb—don't ask why—and I thought, 'Where can I keep this thing until I figure out how it works?' And boom! Dumpster!"

"Why would you put a bomb in a dumpster?!"

"Because you can't just carry bombs around, Spidey. That's dangerous!"

Peter gawked at him. "And leaving it in a public dumpsterisn't?"

"Relax," Deadpool said, waving him off. "It's probably fine."

The blinking light suddenly changed to a steady, ominous glow.

Spider-Man's heart sank. "Wade… what does a steady red light mean?"

Deadpool paused. "Uh, it means we shouldprobablyrun?"

The two stared at each other for half a second before bolting out of the alley at full speed.

Behind them, the dumpster exploded with a deafeningBOOM,sending trash and shrapnel flying in all directions. The shockwave propelled both men into a pile of cardboard boxes on the opposite street.

Peter groaned, sitting up and brushing debris off his suit. "This is why I don't answer your calls."

Deadpool popped up, remarkably unscathed. "Hey, on the bright side, I'm not forgetting anything anymore!"

Peter glared at him. "Except common sense."

Deadpool gave him finger guns. "And that's why we make such a great team! You've got brains, I've got… whatever this is!" He gestured vaguely to himself.

Peter sighed, webbing Deadpool's mouth shut before swinging away.

"Mmff mmff mm!" Deadpool mumbled, giving him a thumbs-up.

Peter didn't bother to look back. He'd had enough Deadpool for one lifetime—or at least one night.