You know, there was a time where I was like all the others. You know what I mean. All the other Deadpools. Well, that all changed when he showed up. Who's he? I'm not entirely sure. He just appeared out of nowhere. It all started with that shrink, Doctor Blighton. Who's Dr. Blighton?

He ran an asylum for the criminally insane. At least, on a super villain level. He said he could reform them, or some shit like that. Anyway, it was when the Professor brought me in. Come, my friends, as we go on a little adventure.


"Wade, don't!"

Deadpool smashed into the school. Currently, he was riding a Sentinel. Mutant killers. Pretty dark shit. But that is a completely different story.

In the present, a group of Sentinels had attacked the mansion on some nutjobs' orders. The X-Men had it handled pretty nicely, as they got attacked every other day. Wolverine was able to kill one by himself, but that was not that surprising. He once took on three with the only companion being his cigar.

Storm and Beast were able to short out the electric panelling on another. Jean Grey flew Scot Summers, also known as Cyclops, up to eye level with the next Sentinel. He was able to blow the thing's head off. All in all, things were going smoothly.

Then Deadpool showed up.

He was dropping by on one of his visits and saw the school in trouble. He took out one of his katanas and a handgun. He teleported onto the Sentinel's back, shooting out the control panel. Grabbing a control panel, he steered the robot into another, knocking it out of commission. Then he lost control. He began fidgeting with it, shouting, "It's cool guys! I got it!"

Unwittingly, he steered it into the school, crushing an entire wing. Wolverine was the first to notice, and he shouted, "Wade, don't!"


Later,

"Wade."

Said Merc with a Mouth was looking down on the floor. He had his usual mask on. His costume had a red chest with black sides, a red pelvis, black leggings, black sleeves, red gloves, and red boots with a black line on the tip. On his wrists were three silver arm bands, same as around his ankles. He had two handguns strapped to his thighs, two katanas on his back, and on his belt a knife, a couple of grenades and a coupon to a chimichanga.

"Wade, look at me."

He looked up at the man talking to him.

The man in charge of it all. Professor X. Also known as Charles Xavier, but that just does not sound as cool. He wore a pimp suit. Even had a suit a lot of X's on it. He also had a shiny bald head. The best way to describe him was Patrick-Stewart-looking. Yes, that is a term now.

Why are we still listening to this guy?

Because he's by far the smartest guy we know.

What about Cable? He's pretty fucking smart.

Deadpool frowned at his inner voices. "Not now, guys. We're being serious here."

Terribly sorry, but you know how some people are.

Yeah! Wait, are you talking about me?

No, of course not.

Okay, good.

"Guys!"

For the first time in several hours, the inner voices stopped talking.

Professor X frowned. He shook his head. "Wade. You do know what this means, right?"

Deadpool became excited. "I get to be an X-Man?"

Charles shook his head slowly. He said, "I'm sorry, but you're too dangerous."

"What do you mean?" Wade tilted his head.

"You've destroyed half of our school."

Actually only about an eighth.

Contorting his face into an ugly grimace under his mask, Wade hissed, "I swear to God, whitey, if you do not shut up, I will perform a lobotomy."

Charles shook his head again. He grabbed one of Wade's hands, and held it tightly. "We're going to send you to a brilliant doctor. He'll be able to fix you."

Wade pulled his hand from Xavier's grip. "What's there to fix?" He pointed to his head. "Sure, there's some messed up shit in here, but sending me to a-."

"This is not up for discussion, Wade," Charles swiftly interrupted with a wave of his hand. "Now, I don't want to do this anymore than you actually want to go through with it." He rubbed his temples. "You do realize that, correct?"

Deadpool nodded slowly. He then perked up his head. "But, that doesn't mean I have to go willingly." He went for his teleporter, but a hand gripped his wrist tightly.

He looked up and saw Wolverine standing there, shaking his head slowly.

Deadpool shoulders sagged in defeat. He held up his hands, a pair of handcuffs wrapping around his wrists.


"Sir?"

Dr. Blighton looked up from his work at the timid intern. She was cute. Brown hair, brown eyes, a decent complexion, but nothing overly there. Enough to get her into the popular crowd at least.

"Yes?" he responded.

She stuttered, "Y-You wanted to know when he g-got here?"

A smile crossed his face. "Yes, of course, let them in."

"Alright, I promise I won't gut each and every one of you! Only Logan."

Dr. Blighton walked in to see Professor X, Wolverine, Storm, and Cyclops. Cyclops had a bloodied nose. Wolverine was missing a couple fingers. Storm was untouched. Same went for Professor X. Deadpool was tied to a gurney by his wrist, legs, and chest. Wolverine was holding his weapons, while Charles steered the gurney.

Professor X walked up to Dr. Blighton with his arm stretched out. "Dr. Blighton, I presume?"

The good doctor smiled. "Why do you have to ask, when you can just read my mind and see for yourself?"

"You see, doctor," explained Charles, "I don't like intruding into people's minds without their consent."

Dr. Blighton nodded. "I see. How very considerate of you. Anyway, I'm assuming the man strapped down is Deadpool, correct?"

Professor X nodded. "I'm afraid he's become too much of a danger to both himself and others."

Wolverine shouted, "Professor!"

"May I?" Dr. Blighton motioned for him to attend to the situation. He walked over to Wolverine, and asked, "Yes, Logan?"

He shook his head. "It doesn't feel right, Chuck. I mean, yeah, Wade's a loose cannon, but sending them to these quacks? That's just wrong."

"I'm sorry, Logan, but this isn't up for discussion." He turned to Deadpool. "I'm afraid we'll have to put him in better hands."

Deadpool lifted his head. "Is there a bathroom around here? Because I really need to go. Hey, Storm, how 'bout you come and help? Because, with that kind of outfit, baby, I'm going to be missing a lot."


"Get in there!"

Deadpool was shoved violently into the room. He was tied up into a straight jacket or, as he called it, a hug-me jacket. He looked back at the two large men, shouting, "Thanks, guy! Same time next week? Great!" The two men sneered, one of them wiping blood off his nose. Deadpool turned to look at the man sitting at the table. Dr. Blighton. "Hey, doc. So, what's on the agenda for today? I squeeze a stress ball whilst you write down some notes about my childhood?"

Dr. Blighton groaned. This would be a difficult one, he could tell. But, he's had worse.

"Now, Mr. Wilson-"

"Please, call me Deadpool."

Dr. Blighton could see Deadpool's best troll-face behind his mask. "Deadpool, how about you take a seat so we can get to know each other." He motioned towards the chair next to him.

Immediately, Deadpool was sitting down.

Think of something different this time!

Yeah, the one about you being a lonely child whose best friend killed your dad is kind of a downer.

"It all started when I was a midget, and I fell in love with that dolphin. Mom told me it wouldn't work out, but I didn't listen." He noticed Dr. Blighton looking bored. "Doc, shouldn't you be writing this down? Let me tell you, I'm going to give you enough material to write a bestselling book." He leaned closer. "On New York Times." He sagged back into the chair.

Did the author do his research when typing that?

Doubt it. But then again, when does he?

Dr. Blighton asked, "Tell me, you are a trained assassin, are you not?"

"I prefer mercenary, but go on."

Dr. Blighton stood up from behind his desk. "You claim to have the ability to regenerate. Does that mean growing back lost limbs?"

Deadpool shrugged. "Yeah, but some take longer than others. I mean, a few years ago, my no-no parts got cut off, took an entire month to grow back completely. I was still able to get one out, but still."

"You're also capable of teleportation through a device on your belt, correct?"

Deadpool nodded. "Yeap. One time, I teleported into the X-Ladies bathroom. I got to see Emma Frost, Storm and Jean Grey in all of their natural glory." He leaned in closer once again. "And I do mean all of their natural glory. Know what I mean? Eh? No? Okay."

Dr. Blighton walked towards a pad on his bookshelf. "This is the problem with you, Mr. Wilson. You lack focus. If only you could focus on something for more than five seconds, you would have more of a name in the world. But as it is now, you're just a nobody assassin."

"Hey! I take offence to that!"

"In order to fix that, we must delve into your mind." He pressed a few buttons. "And in order to do that, you must experience pain."

Whadya think he means by that?

Not entirely sure. But it doesn't sound good.

"Hey, doc, I'm sure whatever you have planned is fun, but I don't want to expiAAAAAAHHH!"

Dr. Blighton had finished inputting the last of the code. Deadpool fell to the ground, contorting in pain. He arched his back. If he wasn't screaming, the breaking of his vertebrae could be heard. Dr. Blighton was happy indeed. The start of his domination of Earth.

Fight it! Don't let him win!

Killing us! Killing you!

Get out!

"AAAAAAAAARRRRRRRGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHH!" Blood dripped between the fabric of his mask.

"I would tell you to relax, that it might ease the pain," Dr. Blighton explained. He spun a circle on the pad. "But I would be lying to your face then, Mr. Wilson."

The worst pain he had ever experienced lance through Deadpool's body. His inner voice's were crying.

Make him stop!

We don't want to die!

Please! Stop!

Stopitstopitstopit STOP IT!

Noooooooooooooo!

His teeth cracked under the pressure. His spine was completely shattered. Deadpool shouted, "GET OUT!"

Then, the pain stopped. It no longer hurt. His spine healed back up, the cracks in his teeth disappeared and his mind. He could see clearly.

Hello, Wade.

Who was that?

"There, all done." Dr. Blighton placed the pad down. "Feeling better?"

Deadpool looked up at the doctor. "Better?" He got up to his two feet. "Doc. That doesn't even begin to feel what I'm describing." His arms flared out, freed from the jacket. "You should really teach your boys how to properly secure a hug-me-jacket."

He lunged for the doctor, wrapping his arms around his neck. Dr. Blighton's arms grasped for the merc's, but he couldn't get a proper hold. He spoke through ragged breaths. "This isn't *ack* how it's suppose to *cough* suppose to happen." He was able to get Deadpool's arms off from around his neck long enough to shout, "You are under my control!"

Deadpool smile underneath his mask. "Does it look like you're in control, doc?" He applied more pressure, asking, "Where'd the hairy monkey put my weapons?"

"The third floor, room AC."

Deadpool patted his head. "Now, that wasn't so hard, was it?" He reached for a pair of scissors on Dr. Blighton's desk. "Now, now. Don't you know not to have sharp obejcts lying around crazy people?" He plunged the scissors into the doctor's stomach, slowly slicing it open. "You'll have to be punished."

A loud yell could be heard throughout the building. "NOOOO!"

Deadpool fired two bullets into the guard's head. He hated that guy. He was the one who put him in that jacket. In his right hand was the gun. In his left was his trusted utility belt. Already strapped to his back were his katanas. Already in place were his handguns. At least, one of them anyway. He was also able to procure a couple gallons of gasoline. Those were currently sitting by his feet.

He heard the pleas of the other inmates. Fools. All of them. Caught up in this false existence. They had no idea. That's fine. It will be better that way for them. Better to die ignorant than live knowing what he did.

He heard numerous deals. He said, "No deals. All of you die. That's the way things need to be."

Good. You're doing the right thing.

What was that new voice? It had only said two sentences. Yet that was all it needed. He knew. Their existence was a lie.

He poured the last bit of gasoline onto the guard's head. He put the belt on, clicking it into place. He lit a match and looked towards the other prisoners. "Just know this. All of you are being put out of your miseries." He noticed a girl. Brown hair, brown eyes, decent complexion. Looked to be an intern. She was cute. Too bad she had a hole in her head.

He flicked the flame into the guard's head, walking out out of the front door as the flames consumed the inmates.

The oil trail slowly made its way towards a stockpile of barrels. All of them contained oil. Behind him, the asylum exploded into pieces.

"Hope you don't mind me asking," Deadpool spoke in a tone suggesting he didn't even do anything, "but who are you?"

We both know who I am, Wade.

"Oh. What happened to the former tenants?"

You don't need them, Wade. Can I call you "Wade?" Or do you prefer "Deadpool?" Well, Deadpool, I'm the only box you need. Besides, I was hungry.

Something churned in Deadpool's stomach. "I kind of liked them."

But you don't need them, do you? You've never needed them. Me? You need me to be one of the spectators for what's to come next.

"Who are the others?"

Just look in front of you.

He did. And he saw you. Yes, you. The reader. His eyes widened in realization. He finally knew what he was talking about for all of these years.

They've been spying on you this entire time. Watching us laugh, cry, hurt, die, all for their amusement.

Deadpool chuckled. "Well. Guess what little Peeping Tom? I know you're out there now. That's fine, though. Wanna know something? All of these heroes you love? Their not real. But to me, they can feel. They can feel pain and suffering."

He stepped closer. "But you enjoy that, don't you? You enjoy all the suffering, all the pain, all of the hate we must go through!" His hand slid towards the handgun on his right thigh. "It's fine. I find it funny, too. Don't worry. You're going to watch. You're going to experience this world's end. All of your favorite Marvels die." He pointed his gun in front of him. "You're going to watch this world burn."

He fired.