?

Log in

No account? Create an account
recent cases Bob-Whites closed cases case file old leads old leads new leads new leads
Deadpool. Weapon, Part I: The Devil - Walking on the Edge
I don't really have a plan...
foresthouse
foresthouse
Deadpool. Weapon, Part I: The Devil
[Confused? Start at the beginning with Chapter 1]

...

Previously, on Deadpool: Weapon:





[Hey, my little chiquitas, where have y'all been? I’ve been sharpening my knives for days over here, waiting for you to show up so I could tell you what went down in Chapter 4. I was getting so tired of humming the Aquaman theme song, I almost fell asleep! Anyway, now that you’re finally here...Chapter 4 went something like this:

[Ed. note: Um. We have no idea where he got the hand puppets from, but I guess we’ll let him go with it...]

So the Deadpool Puppet called the Deathstroke Puppet and said:

‘What up, DS, it’s ‘Pool. Come meet me on the corner so I can slice’n’dice you.’

And the Deathstroke Puppet cowered like a baby sissy brat.


[Wow, if I curl my fist like this, the ‘Stroke Puppet looks really scared.]

And the ‘Pool Puppet said: ‘Man, what a wimp. Look! Lady! Knife! Throat! Grow a pair and rescue her, wuss!’

And the ‘Stroke Puppet went: ‘Wah! ...OK.

So now he’s on his way.

Oh, I almost forgot...


[Ed. note: And we REALLY don’t know why he owns a Starfire puppet, but it’s probably best not to enquire.]

...the ‘Pool Puppet called up the Pretty Pretty Princess Puppet, and asked her out for a night on the town, and she said...‘YES!’

...


[What? What do you mean they can go back and read the last chapter? Well why am I even doing this, then? Oh. Oh, I see. Geez, you people are so lazy.]

...

Um. OK. So maybe the Pretty Pretty Princess Puppet hung up on the ‘Pool Puppet instead. Whatever. Close enough. That’s not really important, anyway. What’s important is, the ‘Stroke is on his way, so we’re finally about to have...a fight scene! W00t! This is gonna be so great, y’all. My knives are sharp
[really, really sharp], my doorknobs are locked and loaded, and my grenades, ammo, lock picks, shurikens, sais, air horn, katanas, Magic 8-Balls [good to have several in case one starts leaking], kamas, teleporter, tonfa, flamethrower, bag of flour, tessen, Push Pops, Wolvie-kagi, emei needles, Tomogatchi, meteor hammers, deus ex machina, goedendag, VitaminWater, fire ants, and Vaseline are close at hand.

Like I said: W00T!
]


Chapter 5: Ain’t it so weird how it makes you a weapon?"


Still Some Dingy Alley in The Big Apple...

Deadpool was just sheathing his last sharpened knife when a deep voice from the mouth of the alley said, “OK, I’m here. Now where the hell is Pat?”

Deadpool looked up. Deathstroke stood framed between the buildings, the early afternoon light picking out the detail of his red-and-black uniform against the backdrop of the street. The sun glinted off of the bo staff he held in one hand.

Deadpool surged to his feet. “Oh, don’t you worry your masked little head about that! She’s sitting pretty, for the moment...although there’s no telling how long she’ll hold up there...”

Deathstroke glared at Deadpool as he stalked into the alley. “What’s your beef with me, anyway? I don’t even know who you are.”

“Oh, how silly of me! Where are my manners?” Deadpool said cheerfully, stepping forward. “HI!!!!! I’m Deadpool! The guy who’s been hired to kill you!” He held out his hand in greeting. “You know, you’re shorter than I thought you’d be. On the other hand, the staff’s taller than I figured, so I guess it all evens out.”

Deathstroke snorted as he automatically extended his hand as well. “Deadpool? Please. You’ll be a Deadtool if you try to mess with me.”

Deadpool winced. “Oh, see, now I’m just sad for you. Who writes your dialogue? It kills me--So I'm thinking maybe I should kill you!” And with that, Deadpool grabbed Deathstroke’s half-outstretched hand, crouched, and flipped Deathstroke over his shoulder.

*Ummph!* Deathstroke hit the brick wall of a building with a metallic crash and rolled quickly to his feet. “Listen, you--“

“Nah, how ‘bout you listen, ‘Stroke, and I’ll tell you what: you beat me, and maybe I’ll tell you where I’ve got little Ms. Trayce stashed. How’s that for a fair deal?” asked Deadpool, as he leapt, flipped into the air, and kicked Deathstroke in the face--

--or at least, he would have kicked Deathstroke in the face, except that Deathstroke suddenly wasn’t where he was supposed to be.

“What the...?”

[Damn, he’s fast.]

From the other side of the alley, Deathstroke leaned against the wall and crossed his arms. “Beat you? With pleasure. Why, I’m gonna--“

“Ooh, ooh, yes, tell me; what’re you gonna do?” Deadpool asked as he ran at Deathstroke, sliding two swords from the sheaths strapped to his back. “Feed me my pancreas for breakfast? Tear out my heart and use it as a pincushion?! Come on then! Bring it!

Deadpool whirled and swiped a katana right down the middle of Deathstroke’s crossed arms. Metal clanged on metal, but the sword didn’t even make a dent.

Deadpool grunted and spun around Deathstroke, blades flashing and clanging. Deathstroke just stood there, watching Deadpool as he might watch a gnat he was too bored to swat. “No. I’m not going to do any of that. I’m just going to kill you. It’s as simple as that.” Suddenly, Deathstroke lunged and kicked Deadpool’s legs out from under him.

*Hoomph!* “Well aren’t you a cheeky lad!” Deadpool panted, rolling upright and lunging at Deathstroke again, knife in hand. “Think you’re so cool, don’t you? Just because you’ve got actual hair and that whole ‘silver fox’ thing going for you.” Deadpool grappled with Deathstroke, wrestling him to the ground. “Bet you wouldn’t think you were all that if you looked like a cross between a molting alligator and the ‘before’ actor in a Clearasil commercial.”

[What? Jealous? Of course I’m jealous! He’s got piratical good looks and a hot ex-girlfriend who’s still obsessed with him! All I’ve got is a blind geriatric, a sloshed tech-fancier, and a no-good mutt!]

Deathstroke pulled out a serrated knife and plunged it into Deadpool’s gut. “I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about, but you’re starting to annoy me.”

*Hhnnngh* “I been snookered,” Deadpool wheezed, as he crumpled to the ground.

“Hey, wait--this ain’t the way it’s s’posed to go!” he whuffed, pulling out the knife and curling his fist over the wound. “I told the readers in Chapter 2 that I’d be getting all medieval on your ass in this scene!”

Deathstroke snorted as he looked down at the other red-and-black costumed man. “And what, exactly, does ‘getting medieval on my ass’ entail?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Deadpool said merrily, jumping up as his wound finished healing. “Sharing some giant turkey legs, quaffing some ale, singing long songs with ‘wassail’ in them? Hey! I might even let you wear a paper crown!” he exclaimed as he whirled around, bringing both swords down on Deathstroke’s back in a smooth X--

--which completely failed to penetrate Deathstroke’s armor.

[Damn promethium! I hate the DC universe.]

Deadpool tackled Deathstroke again, but Deathstroke flipped Deadpool away and struggled to his feet. “You know what?” he said. “I think you’re insane. You’re also sort of amusing, but mostly...you’re DEAD.” Deathstroke grabbed one of Deadpool’s swinging arms and snapped it in one fluid movement.

OUCHIE! Ooooh. What’d you go and do that for? That was my favorite arm!”

Deadpool rolled away from Deathstroke. “Freakin' Deathstroke. Freakin’ armor. Ah, well, guess it’s time to pull out the doorknobs!” he cried, as he whipped out an enormous semi-automatic [that is in no way a metaphor for anything] and started firing.

Deathstroke strode toward Deadpool, ignoring the bullets that bounced from his armor as harmlessly as a little light hail. Reaching him, Deathstroke grabbed Deadpool by the arm, hauled him up, and punched him hard in the jaw, sending him flying into the Dumpster at the end of the alley.

*Rssmfrssm%$#@!!!* Deadpool grumbled from the ground, holding his hand to his broken jaw as Deathstroke advanced on him. “Why d’thy alwas hve to go for the face? Like it dsn’t have enough prob’ms.”

Deathstroke reached for him, but Deadpool launched himself upward, using Deathstroke’s shoulder to vault over him. “Ooh, a one-armed vault, a smooth landing...that’s a perfect 10, Schlegel!” Deadpool exclaimed as he backed away from Deathstroke, pulling something from one of the myriad pouches on his costume.

“Well, the big ‘knob didn’t work, so I guess it’s...KAGI TIME!!!” Deadpool said as he fitted a set of Wolverine-style claws over his hands.

[That’s ok, though. I love sharp objects.]

“Come on, adamantium, baby. Don’t do me wrong!” he muttered, as he made another leap at Deathstroke.

Deadpool swiped at Deathstroke’s stomach, the Wolvie-kagi scraping along the promethium armor with a sickening screech. Three thin curls of metal fell to the pavement. “HAH!” Deadpool yelled. “Lo, finally, a chink in the armor doth appeareth. Eth.”

[Oh, where’s my mjolnir when I want to speak mythically? It’s just no fun without it.]

Deathstroke looked down. “Well, I’ll be damned. What the hell?”

He didn’t have time for more self-examination, though, as Deadpool lunged at him and launched an all-out frenzied claw attack on ‘Stroke’s armor, making tiny chinks appear in the breastplate and back.

“Oh for--this is going to take forever," Deadpool grouched between swipes. “And I wanted to get home before the Golden Girls marathon.”

At that moment, Deathstroke dodged a blow from the claws and jumped back, yelling, “That. is. ENOUGH!” He brought his bo staff around and aimed it at the garrulous gun-for-hire. The energy blast that shot from the end bowled Deadpool to the ground. “Now tell me what you’ve done with Pat, or the next one’ll be a killing blow.”

“Why d’you think this is all about Pat, anyway?” Deadpool groaned from his prone position. “I was hired to kill you, remember?”

“...Oh, yeah,” said Deathstroke. “You did say.” He kept the staff pointed at Deadpool. “Mind telling me why?”

“Because you keep harassing the $(%*! Teen Titans, and they’re sick of it,” Deadpool said. “Why do you keep picking on the kids anyway, man? That is so messed up in the head. And while we’re asking questions, what’s with the boots? You look like you’re wearing extra-long swimmies or something. Maybe really fat legwarmers. Or those weird 'water snake' toys; you know, the totally inappropriately phallic ones...?”

Deathstroke stared at him. “The Teen Titans sent you after me? They hired an insane mercenary to try to kill me??”

“Yeah, well, I guess they figured it takes one to know one, eh?” Deadpool said. He shrugged. “There’s no point in being a sourpuss-in-boots about it.”

Deadpool rolled to his feet. “Anyway, it’s not like you’re really close or anything.” He rifled through his pouches as he talked, glancing at Deathstroke, who was still standing in front of him, staff aimed at Deadpool’s chest. “Well, except for that completely inappropriate fling with the traitorous earthy blonde chick, that is. Man, talk about robbing the cradle—Ah-hah, here it is!” he exclaimed, and lobbed a grenade toward Deathstroke with a smooth overhand throw. “How do you like them apples, Binky?”

Deathstroke caught the grenade in his free hand, and Deadpool felt a tap on his shoulder. He spun around. Deathstroke stood next to him, leaning in until they were nose to nose. “I like them just fine,” Deathstroke growled. He tucked the grenade into one of the pouches near Deadpool’s shoulder, patted his cheek, and leapt away.

“Jumpin’ Jack on the beanstalk!” Deadpool looked down. “How did you--“

*WOOOMPH*

Deadpool staggered--

[Well you would too if half your head had just been blown off!]

--and fell to his knees.

[OWWIE.]

His body fell back onto the pavement with a soft thud.

[Ouchie.]

...

[Oooh.]

...

[Oh, #$*@&! I have no eyes. ...I HAVE NO EYES! Now how am I supposed to watch Cinemax?!]

...

[Damn...Can’t kill him if...can’t see. Brain...not...all there. Need...little time...recover. Go...’way...come back...]

Deadpool’s hand felt for his teleporter belt and frantically pressed the buckle.

*tck*

His body began to fade away in a purple glow.

“Oh no you don’t!” exclaimed Deathstroke, sprinting forward and grabbing Deadpool’s ankle. “You aren’t running away until I know where you hid Pat!”

Caught in the teleportation field, Deathstroke faded too, until finally all that remained in the alley was dirt, trash, and some drops of drying blood.


...

To be continued in a highly populated area (oh no!) in Chapter 6...

...

*Chapter title from Weapon, by Matthew Good.

...

(BTW, in case anyone's wondering when the next time we'll see 'Pool in the real comics is, he'll be making an appearance in Marvel Comics Presents #10, which comes out June 25, 2008. Info courtesy of The Deadpool Bugle.)

...

ETA: New I'm a Marvel, I'm a DC Parody
"Did you just compare yourself to Wal-Mart?" HEE.

Tags: , , , , ,
Trixie feels: crazy crazy

2 clues shared or share a clue
Comments
gestalt1 From: gestalt1 Date: June 5th, 2008 06:02 pm (UTC) (current file)
*grins manically* Oh Deadpool, so much confidence, so much fail! We love you for it.
foresthouse From: foresthouse Date: June 5th, 2008 07:55 pm (UTC) (current file)
And yet, somehow he does manage to come through a lot of the time...

It's amazing, really. :)
2 clues shared or share a clue