The red and black figure looking like he was trying to cosplay Spider-Man and failing miserably, Deadpool, sat crouched on the rooftop across a Roxxon Energy Corporation building. It was dark outside, about 2:00 AM if he had to guess. Which made it all the stranger that there was a meeting going on inside the building.
So what's the plan?
Have you already forgotten the plan?
Of course not. It's for his benefit.
"Oh, don't you go pinning this on me," Deadpool told the voice in his head. "I remember the plan perfectly. We take this here grappling hook,"—he gestured to the duffel bag next to him— "fire it into the Roxxon building, slide across like Nathan Drake, and then burst through that window there."
He pointed to a fifteenth story window.
"After that, we infiltrate out way sneakily into the place, bust into the meeting, and kill all the dudes there. Yeah?"
Ooooh, that's a good plan. I like that plan.
Just one problem.
That window you just pointed to is twenty feet above us. At best we can swing across and climb up.
"Damn," Deadpool muttered. "I was hoping to make this a dramatic entrance." He picked up the grappling launcher and aimed it at the window. "To hell with it. If Spider-Man can do it, so can I."
To be fair, Spider-Man is able to stick to walls.
So can we if we use a knife.
"Hush, my children," Deadpool chided lightly. "You're ruining the moment." He pulled the trigger, feeling the recoil at the hook fired out into the next building. It latched on solidly. He gave a few tugs before nodding in satisfaction.
He shifted his stance, took a few steps back, and started performing some light stretches. "Stretching is important, after all," he reminded his inner voices. "Especially when performing feats of amazing strength."
More like feats of stupidity. How do you know that's even going to hold?
"C'mon, at worst, I'll fall and break all of my bones, heal, and then go through the front door, stealth be damned."
And at best, you eat your own words!
"What he said," Deadpool said. After one last stretch of the shoulders, he took a few more steps back. Then, he broke out into a full on sprint, grapnel hook in hand. He performed a picture perfect dive off the building. "Tally ho!" he shouted.
He fell a bit before the line went taut, and started swinging towards the building.
We're flying! We're really-!
Deadpool smacked face first into the bulding, forming a small, but noticeable Deadpool-shaped indentation in the wall. "Ow," he let out in a small voice.
What did you expect?
"Shut up," Deadpool replied. Fortunately for him, he was still gripping the grapnel gun with an iron grip and the hook itself hadn't dislodged.
With effort, he looked up at the hook, and gave a small laugh of triumph. "Told you it would hold." He pushed himself off the wall before righting planting his feet against it. He held on tight, fighting the force of gravity.
"Jesus," he said, wobbling like a madman. "How the hell did Batman do this?"
It was the 60's, man. You remember how it was back then. Less Kevlar and body armor and more spandex.
Ah, a simpler time.
"Can't say I do," Deadpool replied with some effort, taking a few steps up the wall. "I can't really remember anything before 1991."
Ugh, don't remind me.
So, one last time, what's the target?
"Guy by the name of Hugh Jones," Deadpool stated. "Apparently he's the CEO of ol' Roxxon here. Some bidding war or some shit, I don't know. Honestly, I don't give a shit. I've been paid, so he's going to die."
Hey, do you think this contractor will actually let us keep the money? The last guy wasn't so forthcoming. What was his name? Aaron Vault?
Adrian To—How the hell did you confuse Adrian Toombs for Aaron Vault, they sound nothing alike!
"'Toombs', 'Coffin', 'Vault', doesn't really matter what the bastard's name was," Deadpool called out. He was still a fair distance away from his destination. "That Vault guy got what was coming to him."
Too bad he didn't have a sick healing factor like us.
"Too true. Also, y'know, would've helped with the bullet I put in his head. Do you think Spidey will be mad I capped one of his big bads?"
Please, Vulture is C-tier at best.
I don't know, I think Batman raised his stock when he took a shot at playing him.
Raising a grade from a C to a B, I suppose. Still, I think calling him one of Spider-Man's "big bads" is giving him far too much credit.
Hey, speaking of employers, who gave us this job again?
"Focus people!" Deadpool called out. He stopped at the window just below the grappling hook. He took a quick peek inside. "We're here."
While still gripping the gun with one hand, he reached down and pulled out a pistol. He smashed it against the window. The window shattered on impact.
"Sweet," Deadpool proclaimed, holding up his pistol in victory. He put on a mock hero voice and said, "Come, my companions! We must vanquish the dastardly Hugh Jones!"
Do you think readers remember Hugh Jones? It's a pretty deep pull.
He was in Marvel's Agent Carter, that should be good enough.
He climbed into the window. Surprisingly, the building seemed light on security. Funny, since there was a pretty important meeting taking place only a few floors above. Deadpool checked his watch. "Making pretty good time," he said. He looked up at the ceiling. "So, we got a few stories left. Fully loaded, looking stylish, and reading to make the chimi-fucking-changa."
Above, Hugh Jones, CEO of Roxxon, was currently addressing a group of suited men, all looking mostly identical baring some hair color differences. Jones was an older man, his gray hair had been parted down the middle, the wrinkles across his skin gave him a weary look, and his nicely pressed three piece gray suit looked as uncomfortable as it felt. Along the room, there were armed security guards, two on either side of the door, and six more scattered along the walls. He pointed to a graph. It had a squiggly arrow going up, but no real markings to represent what it actually meant.
"Gentlemen," he announced, "As you can see, profits are going through the roof. We are on track at the moment to exceed the record we set last year. Of course, we could increase our record by cutting our employee's salaries and increasing workload."
He was interrupted by a gentle knocking on the door. All the men looked between each other.
"Are we missing one?" one of the suits asked.
"Is Jerry here?"
"Yeah, I'm here, I brought you that bagel!"
Hugh motioned the two guards at the door. "Deal with that please."
The guard on the right nodded, pulled out his gun and reached for the door knob. Before he got there, though, it was suddenly kicked open. The force was enough to send the two guards sprawling to the floor.
Deadpool stepped in and observed the scene before him. "I've come to kill you and talk about our renewable energy. And I can't seem to find the renewable energy."
"Get him!" Jones shouted. The two guys knocked onto the floor, but the merc quickly whipped out his gun and fired two bullets into their heads. The room froze.
For an instant no one spoke. "If no one wants to die," he said, "then I'd recommend skedaddling."
All of the suits filed out, but none of the guards moved. For his part, Jones attempted to leave, but Deadpool fired a bullet at his feet. "Not you," he said. "You're worth a lot of money."
At least as much as a 4K, easily.
Or, at the very least, a decent cleaning.
Deadpool expertly avoided the gunfire, rapidly tearing through the board room of the guards. He sliced the head off one before kicking it into another. He emptied the clip of one of his pistols into another guard, before picking taking out of his swords and throwing it at the next guard. It spun in the air and the handles smashed into his skull, but Deadpool followed up with maneuvering around the man, gripping him around the waist, lifting him up, and falling backwards.
The man crashed into the glass table along with Deadpool, shards of the glass embedding themselves into both.
Deadpool was able to pulled out the large shard embedding in his chest and ignore the rest. The other guy didn't. With only two left, he pulled out his last sword, he avoid a few more bullet before slicing off a foot and a hand on one guy and decapitating the other. He let the two corpses fall as he stood up to his full height and turned his head towards Jones.
"You know, for being the world's most powerful CEO, you got shit for security."
The CEO had barely moved. He was now just a quivering mess, terrified of what was about to happen. "W-Who sent you?" he asked. "Was it Osborn? Look, you tell him I will get his money, I swear!"
"If I see him, I'll relay the message," Deadpool replied. "But no, it wasn't Normie. I don't actually know who put the hit out on you. And, honestly? I don't really give a shit. I'm getting paid either way."
"What if I double the pay?" Jones pleaded. "No, triple! I'll give you triple what whoever is paying you to spare me! I'll throw in more if you track him down and kill him instead!"
That gave Deadpool pause. He held up a finger. "Moment. I need to deliberate." He turned around. "Well, gentlemen?" Jones could only blink in confusion.
Triple the money is a pretty good deal…
Just think of all the stuff we could buy! To hell with the 4K TV, we could get a 16K TV!
"I like the way you think," Deadpool commented with a smile.
From Hugh Jones' perspective, it looked like a lunatic talking to himself. He wasn't far off, truthfully.
Yeah, fair point…
"Alright, I've made my decision!"
Hugh Jones looked hopeful. "You have?"
"Yep! I've decided I'm going to take that guy's dismembered head over there, and shove it up your ass."
The hope was quickly replaced with fear.
Down on the streets, a few bystanders looked up at the building as they could've sworn they heard someone screaming. It was only a passing interest, however, as most quickly disregarded it and moved on.
Deadpool walked out the room, scrolling through his phone of the pictures he took.
Man, I can't believe you actually did it!
I agree. I could've sworn the head would burst before you actually got it in the rectum.
"What can I say?" Deadpool shrugged. "It's all in the wrist." He sent the photos and immediately got the money deposited into his bank account. "Sweet. Alright, boys, there's a good taco truck down this way that just makes the best hard shells."
I prefer soft shell myself.
"That's a burrito, not a taco," Deadpool chided, making his way to the elevator. "I enjoy a burrito as much as anyone else, but let's not call things what they aren't."
Far away, in the shadows, a man reached into his pocket to pull out the phone. He looked at the notification he had just received. "That's a good boy," he said, referring to Deadpool. "Just as expected."
The hit on Hugh Jones had gone of flawlessly. Jones himself had meant nothing to the man. All he was was a trial run, to test the mercenary's skill. The man's real plan, his true goal, was incredibly far reaching, much further than Deadpool could possibly comprehend.
"You'll get yours, Deadpool," he said with a crooked smile. "Just you wait."
A few hours later, Deadpool was sitting in his one bedroom apartment. Trash was littered throughout the place. There was what one could charitably call a path from the front door to the kitchen, bathroom, and bedroom, respectively. Pizza boxes, soft drink cups, all forms of fast food containers were simply icing on the cake when it came to this harrowing display.
The only piece of furniture was a lone chair, sitting across from an old, tube TV. Despite the money in Deadpool's account, he never upgraded, never bought anything more than junk food, and simply sat here.
After wolfing down the last taco, he let out a loud belch.
I'd say a six. The technique is lacking a little something.
"Eh, everyone's a critic," Deadpool said, waving away the criticism. He leaned back in his chair and stared up at the ceiling. "You guys ready to try again?"
He pulled the mask all the way off. From his position, he looked to the left and could see his reflection and frowned. What stared back at him was a man covered in scaring, disfiguration, and rashes. There was no hair on his head, and his eye sockets were sunken in.
The eyes themselves had glazed over considerably, giving the illusion that he may be blind, but really he had perfect vision. Deadpool got up and walked towards the mirror. He leaned against the sink and brought his face closer to the mirror.
Beneath the surface, his rage was reaching a boiling point. "Look at you," he said. "You'd be better off dead."
He pulled out his pistol, placed it under his chin, and pulled the trigger. Gunfire went off. He fell to the floor backwards, the blood splatter covering the walls. All was silent for a few moments before Deadpool gasped and sat straight up. He doubled over and vomited out some blood as the wound was beginning to rapidly heal.
Deadpool was the result of a failed experiment. It was meant to replicate the healing factor of Wolverine. In Deadpool's case, he signed up for it when he was diagnosed with cancer. Because of this, his healing factor was so powerful, that if it were to be put into a healthy individual, they would just keep healing things they didn't need to heal.
"Fuck," he muttered, putting the gun away. For the moment, the voices were gone. He was able to just sit there and think his own thoughts. It's not like he didn't like those guys, far from it. In actuality, they were incredibly fun to hang out with. But they were always there, always present. It was nice when they were quiet every once in a while.
"Oh, well," he sighed. "Made it through another day, I guess."
He got up and stumbled to his bedroom. All along the walls were hundreds, perhaps thousands, of tallies. He walked over to a corner, took out a knife, and carved another tally. He didn't bother to put the knife away, he just let it fall to the floor.
Finally, he walked over to his deflated mattress, and held his knees to his chest. They would be back soon. For now, though, he just let the sobs come.
He didn't know how much longer he could take it.
A/N: Okay, so something a bit different compared to my older Deadpool stuff.
I'm going to try to make this a consistent thing, as I have a story I want to tell, although details have been by no means finalized.