I'm making the Marvel Spider-Man in American comics.

Chapter 949 St. Petersburg's Number One Male Stripper

In the end, Deadpool was dragged off the stage because of his overwhelming destructive power. He then pulled Peter aside for a drink. However, Peter only asked for a bottle of colorless Coke.

As for Deadpool, every time the bartender was about to mix a drink for him, he would see Deadpool's face and vomit into the glass. This happened three or four times. In the end, the bartender probably ran out of stomach acid, so he finally handed Deadpool the first drink and then collapsed weakly at the bar, looking almost dead.

As for Iliana, the girl was quite cunning. She waited until the scary atmosphere in the bar had dissipated before entering, and she blocked Peter between herself and Deadpool, doing her best not to look at that grotesque face.

"So—may I ask how your final battle with Deadpool went?"

"I couldn't take him out, at least not yet. I stuffed him into a torpedo and launched him! You can't even imagine how spectacular it was when a huge Hydra nuclear submarine emerged from the Manhattan River and bombed!"

We hit the submarine directly, then I loaded it into a torpedo and launched it!

Peter thought about it very seriously: "What do you mean by 'a giant Hydra nuclear submarine emerging from the Hudson River'?"

"Hmm. Oh, there's a place called the Hydra Empire. They were planning to invade New York. Anyway, against this backdrop, we drove off the evil Deadpool army and, incidentally, blew up the nuclear submarine."

Deadpool picked at his ear, then said, "But unfortunately, New York isn't much fun, and other places are either terrible or discriminate against us, except here! A mutant paradise!"

"First of all, you're not a mutant. Secondly, I don't think anyone discriminates against you, unless you encounter some Stryker's perfect world. Don't tell me some future version of him has also ended up in the Fighting World."

Peter's rudeness clearly didn't win Deadpool's approval; instead, Deadpool looked at Peter with great interest: "That's right, Spider-Man, what are you doing here? Minors aren't allowed to drink alcohol."

"We're here to see Mr. Rasputin, representing Charles Xavier—or rather, 'Mr.,' he's just a country schoolteacher, not a professor." Peter finished speaking and looked at Deadpool, suddenly having an idea: "Wait, you wouldn't happen to be one too—"

"Yeah, my old friend Stryker hired me to check on things. He has a Deadpool over there too, but he's not that great. He was dissolved by hydrofluoric acid." Deadpool said this seemingly plausible news, then lowered his voice and said to Peter, "About this Mr. Rasputin, I asked around in the bar and got some really explosive information."

"—" Peter's spider-sense told him it was best not to ask what the explosive news was, but from an intelligence-gathering perspective, he still asked the question he would later regret: "What explosive news is it?"

"That Mr. Rasputin is the most famous and best dancer in this bar, even more famous than me, and he'll be performing today."

Peter was still in shock when suddenly, a crisp popping sound came from inside the bar, somewhat like the sound of putting oily food in a microwave oven with a film over it. Then, all the bar patrons fell silent, and the disco ball went out for a moment, as if waiting for something.

Then, several burly men stepped forward, forming two lines. Following them was a muscular man, over two meters tall, wearing only a white tank top and swim trunks, sporting a stereotypical Russian beard and long, messy hair. Peter glanced at the man on the platform, then looked at Iliana: "Is that your brother?"

"That's my older brother in this world—it really is him."

As music began to play, the group started tapping their feet and clapping, like the prelude to some kind of dance. At the front, Pietro Rasputin, the Colossus, delivered a passionate speech: "Russian warriors! What have you come here to see?!"

"The most fit body in Russia!!!"

As the dance progressed to a squatting and then standing position with his body spread out in a starfish shape, Colossus and the male dancers behind him tore open their vests in one go, turning their entire skin into metal. At the same time, the intro to the song ended, and he started singing and dancing at the same time.

"A long time ago, there was a Russian country bumpkin."

Peter could still hear Iliana's tearful voice: "I feel like I'm going blind."

Just as Peter sighed, rubbing his forehead, wondering if everything was really so abstract, someone touched his back. Peter immediately turned around, surprised that the other person hadn't triggered his spider-sense. The person who touched Peter was a young bartender, who, in the almost impenetrable bar, accurately delivered the words to Peter's ear.

"Gentlemen, Mr. Rasputin would like to invite you."

"Wait, Mr. Rasputin isn't—"

Peter pointed to the male strippers on stage, while the waiter maintained his smile: "It's an obvious smokescreen, isn't it? Everyone who comes into the bar, even if asked what they're there for, can simply say they're here to see Mr. Rasputin. After all, he's the most handsome man in all of St. Petersburg."

"You might as well call yourself the number one male stripper," Peter thought to himself, while also feeling a bit relieved. "So, it's not this Mr. Rasputin who wants to see us, is it?"

"Yes, please follow me."

Peter led Iliana and Deadpool away from the bar and followed the waiter into a private room. Surprisingly, the other Deadpool members noticed Deadpool getting up in the noisy environment and followed him. Soon, a Deadpool squad had gathered behind Peter.

Upon reaching the door of the private room, Peter made a point of mentioning to the bodyguard at the door, "I'm with this lady; I don't know the group behind her."

"Oh, little spider, my heart is so good—"

The bodyguard nodded at Deadpool: "I can see that, sir."

Peter nodded and went into the box. There were already two groups of people waiting there. One of them was Maximus, the Mad King of the Inhumans, who was followed by several Inhumans. He was probably the only rebel leader who came in person.

The other is the archangel, but Peter is quite certain that the angels in this world haven't had their wings cut off and been transformed into steel souls by the Apocalypse, so this one, like them, is an outsider invited by the local Apocalypse.

Finally, the bodyguard opened the door to the private room: "Mr. Rasputin has arrived."

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