"Right, welp. Nothing else for it. RNG Gods! Tell me where to go!" Deadpool (almost typed Daredevil for some reason) covered his eyes with one hand and pointed straight ahead with the other. Then he began to spin. He spun and he spun! He spun in the sun, he spun for fun! He- "SPIN TO WIN!" -spun 'till he won.
He spun until he got so dizzy he collapsed and almost puked in his mask. Finally he opened his eyes and found that he had fallen right on top the foot prints. "Hope this has something good at the end of it." He said as he got up, brushed himself off and started following the selected trail.
An hour later just as Deadpool had begun to get bored her arrived at the end of the trail. His destination was a rope ladder that ran up the cliff face of a mesa standing all on it's lonesome in the middle of a large swath of flat wasteland. Deadpool could see Smoke rising from the top. "Must be some sort of camp up there. Fantastic sight lines and easily dependable position with a single access point. I wonder if there are any of these guns I've been told so much about up there?"
One long ladder climb later and Deadpool was peaking his little red-clad head over the edge of the Mesa. He saw that he was right in his estimation: there was indeed a small camp and they did indeed have guns. There were five guys grouped around a small campfire, roasting marshmallow and small-mammal shishkebabs. Three of them where generic badguys in Deadpool mind: Leather outfits, full face masks, a tasteful amount straps and pouches (Not like Cable back in the nineties, that was just excessive) and guns nearby. Of the other two, one was clearly the leader. Taller and thicker than the rest of them, he wore a heavy coat that went down to his knees and had metal doodads all over. The coat had a ridiculously big collar and it worked with the bigass hat the dude wore to hide his face. However, Deadpool's attention was all on the last of the five.
"Holy shit!" Deadpool whisper-yelled to himself. "That midget is fucking ripped!"
Indeed the fifth man, if you could call him that, of the the group was both tiny, no more than 2 feet tall, and heavily muscled. All he wore was a mask and a pair of pants, no shirt. He was also probably insane. Instead of sitting and roasting kebabs on the fire like his fellows he ran in circles around the fire pit, screaming random words and noises and waving some sort of axe about until the big guy backhanded him out of the circle with little more than a "fucking midgets." Shorty lay on the ground for a few seconds, stunned, before hopping right back up and running around the circle again, starting the cycle over. Deadpool laughed at their antics while he came up with a genius plan.
[] Full assault.
[] Stealthy sneaky.
[] Fuck it. Leave.