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Not often a dude ruins your face, skull-stomps your sanity, grabs your future baby mama, and personally sees to four of your five shittiest moments. Let's just say… it's beginning to look a lot like Christmas.
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Oh, and that guy over there came in looking for you. Real "Grim Reaper" type. I dunno, might further the plot.
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This is how it's going to work. Adrenaline acts as a catalyst for the serum, so we're going to have to make you suffer. If you're lucky, your mutant genes will activate and manifest in spectacular fashion. If not, well, we'll have to keep hurting you. In new and different ways, each more painful than the last. Until you finally mutate. Or die.
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Wade, we have a ****ing problem, and by "we", I mean "you".
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Why don't you do us all a favor and shut the **** up, or I'll sew your pretty mouth shut?
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You don't wanna kill me. I'm the only one who can fix your ugly mug!
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You ever see 127 Hours? Spoiler alert. [Saws his hand off to escape from being handcuffed to Colossus] [Negasonic Teenage Warhead: [notices Wade cutting his arm off; disgusted] Oh, my God. Nasty.] [blood splats on Colossus' face] Oh, there's the money shot, baby. [Colossus gags in disgust] [looks at camera] "Are You There, God? It's Me, Margaret". [He finally finishes cutting off his hand, and jumps off into an oncoming dump truck below, leaving his severed hand on the handcuff, giving the middle finger to Colossus.]
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You know the funniest part of all this? You still think we're making you a superhero. You, a dishonorable discharge, hip-deep in hookers? You're nothing. Little secret, Wade: this workshop doesn't make superheroes, we make super slaves. We're gonna fit you with a control collar and auction you off to the highest bidder. Who knows what they'll have you do? Terrorizing citizens, putting down freedom fighters... maybe just mow the occasional lawn.
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You may be wondering, "Why the red suit?" Well, that's so bad guys can't see me bleed. [Points to a henchman] This guy's got the right idea! He wore the brown pants.
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You're about to be killed... by a Zamboni!
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You're clowning... you're not clowning? I sense clowns.