Disclaimer: Deadpool (obviously) officially belongs to Marvel Comics, as do any of the other licensed characters that may or may not necessarily appear through the course of this not-for-monetary-profit amateur work of fiction.
Deadpool's Awesome Fanfiction
Wade Wilson stared ahead, a pout hidden behind a layer of black and red cloth. His booted feet propped up on the table, and his arms crossed behind his head, he stared through the window, at the passersby's and the New York street, feeling slightly at a loss. Behind him the rest of the café was busy with activity, not nearly busy enough to entertain him, but busy enough to be considered normal. Normal not really being a frequent word on his vocabulary list, Wade began to wonder what he was doing there.
Steaming lattes were passed around, indiscernible gossip filled his ears. There was a level of clarity his main five senses had never reached before, but it wasn't because of any upgrade or evolution in his powers. There was just something… different. He couldn't quite place his finger on it, but existence in general just felt slightly off. For starters, no one seemed to notice or care that a masked man was sitting amongst the general public.
No… that wasn't so strange, really. It wouldn't make much sense if New Yorkers hadn't gotten used to the presence of super heroes and villains as part of their every day lives at this point in time, but the mercenary couldn't shake the feeling that something was off, whether or not it had to do with the fact that something wasn't exploding nearby at that very moment.
A waitress gave him a puzzled look as he put his hands up in a miming gesture, the masked mercenary miming a picture frame around himself as he peered through it and the pane of glass in front of him. She paused, set her empty tray on his table just by his feet and asked in a timid voice, "Is there anything I can help you with, sir?"
Wade stopped to look at her, ceasing with the gestures but leaving his hands up in the air. "Not unless you can tell me what issue this is. I think I've lost track…"
The woman worried her bottom lip. "Umm… issue?"
Wade resumed with the gesturing, this time bringing his hands closer to his own face. "This feels a little bit like a face panel." Turning in his seat to face her, he adjusted his mime to frame the waitresses' entire stature. "And… this is a full body panel of you. Now say some dialogue so that we don't waste space."
"Uhh…" She furrowed her brown eyebrows and uttered, "Some-dialogue-so-that-we-don't-waste-space?"
Wade dropped his hands and laughed. "Ha, ha! That's perfect!" Wade took the time to rub his chin in a thoughtful manner, adding, "Still… something's missing… Maybe they're experimenting and not doing panels right now? Maybe this is a full page sort of thing? Ooh! Maybe this is a movie! No one told me they were starting it yet, and I know Ryan Reynolds isn't what's under these tights! Oh, look, italics!"
The waitress shifted her gaze to her toes. "Well, umm… if you need anything Mr. Deadpool, I only have two tables right now. Just give me a holler." Wade nodded, grinning under his mask as he watched her retreat somewhere in the back of the café, aware of both the short skirt that was part of her uniform and the slightly less restricting sensation of a panel-less world.
If he stared long enough at an object, his vocabulary list got bigger, which was something that really impressed and excited him. If he had a typewriter he could probably dish out several novels right then and there about the Styrofoam cup he was staring at. Probably not very good novels, but full-fledged novels nonetheless.
Wade Wilson, otherwise known as Deadpool, and more affectionately, the Merc With a Mouth, stood, left a tip for the fairly attractive waitress and walked out of the café. Standing out on the sidewalk, he leaned back to gaze up at the towering skyscrapers of Manhattan, at the clear blue sky above them, and even above that, at-,
"Disclaimer?" Wade squinted hard at the sky, trying to pick out other details, but they weren't really defined. What he found wasn't exactly physically in the sky to begin with, it just helped to perceive it that way. It was the same with comics. If he stared long enough, from a different vantage point from the norm, especially while ignoring whatever struggle or conflict that happened to be occupying anybody else, he could recognize the boundaries of panels, see his yellow inner monologue boxes…
WHERE ARE THEY!!!?!?!
Deadpool tugged at his mask as if the fabric were his hair, pulling it down further against his head as he frantically looked around. "Caps lock, italics, but no yellow! I'm not in a movie, there's no HUD, so this ain't a video game; I have an excellent sense of vocabulary… check this out! Deadpool is rather loquacious don't you agree?" A man in a business suit that had been walking by shied away from Wade as the mercenary rambled. The masked man paused, as if expecting a reply from someone, but getting none whatsoever, Deadpool took off at a run down the street, all the while concentrating hard on his own thoughts.
Beginning inner monologue: I'm so confused. Everything is in italics, and not even with a yellow background. And what the hell happened to the Comic Sans MS font? This is a catastrophe beyond anything Marvel Universe has ever seen! Somebody call the Fantastic Four! Doctor Doom is messing with the fabric of the universe again!
It took a moment for him to realize that he was still running, and that he had reached Avenue of the Americas without realizing it. Somewhere nearby would be Stark Tower, and somewhere on the other side of the world Tony Stark was running S.H.I.…
…right? Tony Stark is Director of S.H.I.E.L.D. Or IS he? Storm should be married to Black Panther, and having awesome Storm/Black Panther sex while helping different super hero teams save the world across different titles at the same time.
Deadpool straightened, realizing that the scream hadn't come from his own mouth from the frustration and confusion he was feeling. A woman had screamed, and continued to scream, pleading for some kind of help. Wade tapped his foot, searching the tops of the skyscrapers for Spider-Man or Ms. Marvel or somebody better qualified and willing to help a damsel in distress for free. For agonizing minutes the screams continued and no super hero came to save the day. Finally, Wade pulled a handgun from the holster on his thigh and loaded it before stomping angrily towards the screams. Conveniently, he was led to a nearby alley, one that stretched behind the buildings along the lengths of Avenue of the Americas, wider and a lot cleaner than some of the more intimidating alleyways of the Big Apple.
Wade calmly followed the pleas, stopping at last before a pair, predictably, a man assaulting a young woman. He sighed audibly at the scene, at the generic balding form of the man, at the generic white tank top, at the generic stains on said generic white tank top, and at the generic rapist leer on the man's face.
Gee, I really hope that this isn't the plot device that's gonna get things moving today…
"You are such a NOOB!"
The girl stopped yelling. The man paused in his groping and tearing of her clothes. Wade pretended to examine his fingernails as the man turned around, confusion evident on his plain, plot-device-fabricated face. Behind the man his victim whimpered, finding it prudent to merely cower on the ground instead of taking the opportunity to run away from the situation all together.
"Dude, it is broad-freaking-daylight! What were you thinking? You do realize that Stark Tower is like right behind you, right? And that Iron Man can come out at any moment to fry you into a bean burrito? Not to mention the wife beater. Seriously, do you rapist types have like meetings every Monday where you decide how to be stereotypes so you can get more screen time on the newest Lifetime movie, or is there just a random trailer park hidden somewhere near Times Square? I don't get it!"
Sweat gathered on the man's forehead as he stuttered, "Y-you're Deadpool, aren't you?"
Wade rolled his eyes. "You know, I was gonna give you the benefit of the doubt and assume that you had multiple guys with you to rape this chick, because that's usually how these things go, but man, you couldn't even do that right, could you? Dude, on behalf of scoundrels and lunatics everywhere like myself, you suck at your job! Go find a tutorial on youtube!"
"Please don't kill me, man! I, I wasn't doing anything to her, I swear!"
Deadpool pinched the bridge of his nose. "I don't care about any of that! What do you think I'm doing here, anyway?"
The man glanced briefly at his prey behind him, who in turn whimpered and pressed herself closer to the wall. "Rescuing her, right?"
Not that the man could see it, but Wade grit his teeth. The story arcs gave him a lot of opportunities to be the cuddly hero type. Not that he minded most of the time. He still looked bad ass while doing it, and it sometimes landed him a chick's phone number, but right now he needed to find out what medium he was in, and being good usually led to him doing more good things for people, and before he knew it he would be distracted and forget what he had originally been doing in the first place.
"Dude. Just go home. I'm gonna pretend this didn't happen. Come back at night, with a different chick, some friends to help you, maybe a machine gun and some character development, and then we'll talk, okay?"
Clearly bewildered, the man turned and took Deadpool's advice, retreating down the alley as quickly as he could, all while Wade shook his head in disappointment.
I didn't even get to shoot anything, he thought. Holy guacamole, Batman! Third person narration just finished my inner monologue!
Enlightened by this new discovery, Wade quickly started back the way he came, eager to test out the theories forming in his brain, that is, until the softest of voices called out to him.
"E-Excuse me, sir?"
Wade turned, finding the girl by the wall, straightening out her clothes. "Oh. I almost forgot you were there," he answered with a shrug. Now that he finally got the chance to get a good look at the damsel, he was pleased to note that she was attractive, as most damsels tended to be. Mentally, he began to pick out a description for her.
Long blonde tresses, curling ever-so-softly over her slender, pale shoulders. Her wide, frightened eyes were viridian emeralds, reflecting both the fear and natural curiosity she held for her daring rescuer. Oh, hell yeah, my vocabulary IS getting awesome!
She timidly approached him. "I want to thank you for rescuing me."
Deadpool looked the girl up and down, surveying everything on her figure rather blatantly. She smiled gratefully back at him, and he noticed with some amusement that her clothes were completely wrinkle free after adjusting them from her encounter with her assaulter. Every blonde strand atop of her head was in perfect order, no portion of her makeup was smeared, lip gloss in perfect shine. It didn't exactly surprise Wade, as perfect female appearances tended to be commonplace in comics. Still, that rule tended to apply mostly to super heroines, and that was only if looking bruised, bloody and battle damaged didn't satisfy teenage male's fantasies.
"Yeah, that's all well and good," he said, "but seeing as I just told your friend to come back with like a big group of guys and maybe a machine gun to try again, I don't think you should be thanking me just yet."
"Oh." Her gaze went downcast for a moment before finding Deadpool's face again, an idea making her green eyes bright. "Well, why don't you come over to my place then?"
If Wade had a drink to spit out, he would have done so. Instead, he ended up sputtering for a moment or two and then choking a little out of astonishment. "All right!" he exclaimed. "That's a great idea!"
She nodded enthusiastically as Deadpool watched her scarcely covered cleavage with the same amount of enthusiasm, if not more. "That would be so great! You can protect me from all the others on our way back home!"
Deadpool grinned under his mask as they began to walk. "Sure!"
"I mean, it's just so hard being me on a daily basis. Everyday I'm afraid to walk home for fear of being abducted and ravished…"
Ravished… now that's a nice word.
"…and all the guys in my class just won't leave me alone. You know, this is the first time I've ever been able to talk to a guy like this, Wade."
The mercenary paused. "What?"
She turned around, already several feet ahead of him. "Wade, is everything all right?"
Deadpool didn't even notice as several others on the sidewalk pushed impatiently past him. "Hey, I never told you my name."
Beaming, she ran back to him, clasping both hands together. "Who wouldn't know your name?"
He thought about it for a moment, remembering that he wasn't exactly the secret identity type. Sure, he wore a mask, but that was for an entirely different reason. "Guess you got a point there," he conceded. It was nice to be recognized every once in a while by people who did not also wear masks and/or wished to murder him.
"My name is Gwen," she said when she began to lead the way again, her smile radiant and a bit blinding, if Wade had to be honest. "Gwendolyn Robinson."
"Uh-huh," he murmured, his eyes finding a hot dog stand and concentrating on the scent long after they passed it. Eventually she led him to a section of Fifth Avenue where he expected to have the cops called on him for merely being in public. Carrying two katana and firearms probably didn't help.
Gwendolyn stopped before a revolving door. "Almost there." Deadpool leaned back to stare up at the building as she went through. The building reminded him of the ones the characters lived in on Gossip Girl. Another woman exited after Gwen entered, carrying a tiny dog in her arms close to her bosom. Deadpool watched her saunter away, a glittering cell phone pressed against her ear, the puppy excitedly licking her collarbone. By the time she was gone, Wade lost sight of the original female he was following around, who he speculated was Gwen Stacey brought back to life, no longer interested in Spider-Man.
I always looked better in red, anyway, he thought as he allowed the revolving door to circle him in and out of the entrance about three or four times. Satisfied that his vision was spinning by the time he was done, Wade joined Gwen by the elevator.
Feeling a hand on his bicep he focused on Gwen's dizzy form. "Is everything all right, Wade?" He blinked, bringing a hand to the side of his head, as they entered the open elevator. "Oh, you didn't get hurt during the fight, did you?"
"I feel so horrible! You, getting injured because of me!" Suddenly there were hands examining his torso, searching for the mysterious injury that had apparently occurred when Wade had called Gwen's rapist an incompetent. He tensed, his first instinct to reach for a katana for all the sudden probing by strange hands, until he remembered that the source was a possibly resurrected Gwen Stacey.
"Seeing as I have super-fast healing powers, and not a single blow was landed during the entire thing," he began, "which totally sucked, by the way… is this the part where we start making out?"
Gwendolyn froze, her hands firmly on his abdomen as she stared up at him in amazement. "Healing powers? Wow!" The elevator halted with a ding, Gwen's face immediately taking an unexpected turn for the solemn. "I have something to tell you, but we'll have to go in my apartment first. It's safer there."
Wade's shoulders slumped as she left. He had really been hoping for an elevator make-out scene. If he got really lucky, then a resurrected Green Goblin might have thrown a pumpkin bomb inside, and it would be a really fun ride back down, complete with explosions.
There was a long walk down a bland corridor, and then Gwen stopped at her apartment. As soon as she unlocked and opened the door, a black cat came running out, though not fast enough to avoid Gwen. She picked it up, snuggled the feline close, and announced, "He doesn't have a name yet, unfortunately. I just found him the other day, following me home. That happens to me a lot."
He entered with her, and immediately Wade stopped, halted by the immense living space before him. Gwen hurried off to wherever the bedroom was, and Deadpool called out, "So, are your parents home?"
"No," she called back, "my parents died a few years ago in a car accident-,"
His eyes widened and he cheerfully interjected, "Are you Spider-Man!?"
She reappeared around the corner, her yellow eyebrows knitted together. "Huh?"
"Well, because you know, Peter Parker's parents died the same way."
Her face brightened. "Oh, I have a few classes with him! He's really nice, though I don't like that Mary Jane at all..." Deadpool cocked his head to the side in intrigue as her face considerably darkened, her green eyes suddenly black. When they lightened again they were purple.
"Anyway, what I wanted to tell you, is that I'm a mutant…" Her tone serious, and her expression grave, she added, "You're the first person I've been able to tell this to. I just… I didn't know how to handle it when I got my powers."
Take a look everyone: the newest member of the X-Men… Crayola Girl! Over 28 colors available for every emotion, including Macaroni-and-Cheese! As a matter of fact, her eyes then changed from purple to a deeper blue.
Deadpool walked around, noticing the baby grand piano in the corner of the living room, the Apple laptop on the coffee table, and the shining appliances in the kitchen. "Must be such a problem," he answered, standing in the middle of the living room with his hands on his hips and looking around, "with your parents dead and working through college."
Please tell me she's a single mom too.
Suddenly she was in front of him. Deadpool nearly stumbled back, eternally grateful that he did not trip backwards against the oak coffee table. He would have hated to destroy a perfectly good Apple laptop.
"You're the only one who understands me, Wade. I'm so glad we've met. It must be fate!" She leaned towards him, and Deadpool's usual first instinct regarding a member of the opposite sex quickly degraded into a sick feeling in his stomach. "I mean, the last person who really understood me was my brother Logan who I haven't seen in over fifteen years."
Deadpool stiffened, carefully stepping around the coffee table. His eyes were wide under his mask, everything now so perfectly and painfully clear. "The lack of panels, the noob rapist, the bitchin' vocabulary, the resurrected Gwen Stacey who turned out not to be Gwen Stacey and instead was a convenient plot-device for next month's issue of Wolverine..."
The girl stared blankly at him. "What?"
"You see, this can only be one of two things," he stated. "Either Marvel has finally reached the ultimate low and given me that day time soap opera I've always wanted, or…"
Cue dramatic theme music and chocolate lava cakes (only because I've been craving them since all this began)…
"Jesus H. Christ, I'm in a bloody FANFICTION!!!"
Now available in S.A.P.