Somewhere, in 2040, when Disney re-age the Xmen...
Wade duct-taped to a neon chair while Cyclops says, “We just tryna make you go viral, bro. Hashtag #SigmaPool!” and Gambit adds, “C’mon, mon ami, just hit the griddy one time, for the fans.”
Wade’s eyes twitch behind the mask. “Okay, okay… deep breaths. This isn’t real. This is just… another corporate reboot. I can survive this. I survived Origins. I can survive anything.”
Then Jean Grey floats by and chirps, “You’re literally not based, Deadpool.”
He stares straight into the camera: “Not based? I invented based. I was peak internet humor before you all crawled out of the TikTok primordial soup!”
He breaks free mid-scene, sprints through the studio lot, tears open the green screen — and there it is: behind the fake CGI school lies the 20th Century Fox logo, dusty and broken. He falls to his knees. “Take me back… to 2016. When ‘maximum effort’ meant something. When the jokes were edgy, not algorithms."
Then the Disney security drones surround him, chanting, “Content! Content! Content!” Wade raises his katanas, screaming, “Not today, Mickey!”
The screen fades into grayscale, that eerie old Steamboat Willie whistle echoing through the smoke. Out of the shadows waddles Mickey himself—eyes empty, gloves pristine, holding a stack of contracts thicker than Deadpool’s script rewrites.
Each page bears one cursed name: Ryan Reynolds. Deadpool freezes. His katanas drop.“…No. No, you can’t be here. You’re public domain now!”
Mickey grins wider, voice distorted like a warped VHS: “Gawrsh, buddy… you think that means you’re free? You’ll make me money forever, pal."
Cue Deadpool’s muffled sobs as he clutches a chimichanga to his mask, whispering,“F*** you, Ryan. You sold my soul for mouse ears and marketing synergy.”
And the camera pans out as the Steamboat Willie theme slows even more—off-key, metallic, like a haunted carousel. Mickey’s silhouette looms over Wade, contract in hand. Steamboat Willie whistle going all distorted and echoey—Deadpool’s trying to reload his guns, sobbing through the mask, “I didn’t sign up for this, I just wanted to make fart jokes and kill Nazis!”
Then Mickey, deadpan, eyes glowing Disney blue: “Fart jokes? Nazis? We prefer brand-safe mischief now, buddy.”He snaps his fingers—boom!—the world turns into pastel colors, Wade’s suit becomes bubblegum pink, the blood turns into confetti.
He looks around, horrified: “…Oh god. They gave me a PG-13 filter. I can’t even say—” *BEEEEEP.* Roll credits.
Post-credits scene; Ryan Reynolds himself sipping tea next to Mickey, grinning: “Hey, it’s showbiz, pal.”
And Deadpool’s voiceover, dead serious: “If anyone finds this tape, tell Hugh Jackman I tried.”