InsaneJournal

Deadpool Narrative
Who: Deadpool
NPCs: Passengers and Victim
When: February 12th
Where: Frankfurt, Germany
What: Deadpool gets sidetracked during a contract by the guy's body guard. Mention of murder!
Rating: PG-13?


"Don't you think we can just talk about this?!" The words were muffled by the sound of bricks and mortar exploding outward as a human sized lump of red and black burst through. The crumpled form slammed into the side of a parked car and hit the ground with a grunt.

"Ouch. Owie. I think I twisted something. My duodenum is all tied up in knots. Gonna need a quart of lube and a Phineas and Ferb marathon to get that straightened out. Or maybe a pint of colon blow." The lump began to stir, steadying its movements against the dented quarter panel. The mercenary rose steadily to his knees just as a large behemoth approached him. With a growl the attacker slammed a fist the size of a ham into the colorfully dressed man's face.

["How dare you!"] Again another punch rocked the merc's head and he was knocked backward. The merc splayed out across the hood of the car.

"How dare I? HOW DARE I?! It'll be a cold day in hell before I embrace the metric system." Deadpool jerked both of his knees up to his chest and then slammed both boots back down into the large enforcer's chest. He slid across the hood and over the other side. "It's the Imperial system or -- OOF-- nothing! I'm loyal to queenie and country. Especially if she's the delightfully sassy brand of Queen like Latifa." Deadpool rolled backwards over his own head, removing a pair of pistols from the holsters at his side during the motion. "Ooooh, that's gonna hurt later."

["What are you babbling about, monkey?"] The enforcer put a foot against the car and kicked it with enough might to slide it at Deadpool.

"What are you babbling about, pal?! This is America! Speak English. Or bad english. Or Spanish. Or French." Deadpool hurled himself up to the hood of the car, and leveled both guns at the enforcer. He squeezed off several shots into the man's chest but the attacker didn't seem too phased by the automatic gunfire assault.

["Stupid American! This isn't America. It's--"] His words faltered as bits of lead slammed home across his jaw. His forward progression was stopped as the mercenary known as Deadpool drop kicked him in the face.

"Oooooh!" Deadpool squirmed on the hood of the car, clearly in pain from the rough drop. "Mikey was right. The bigger they are, the more bones they BRE-AAAAAAAAAAK!" Deadpool was sent flying as the enforcer grabbed his leg and flung him across the street and into the side of a city bus. People inside began to scream in terror at the mad man that had crashed through the window and into the interior of their municipal transportation. "Fret not my feeble-minded fatties!" Deadpool began even as he climbed to his feet. "My name's Jack Traven, you may know me as the lead singer of Wyld Stallyns, and I'm here to help. Now who wants to be my snarky side kick Sandra?" Wade moved toward the front of the bus, people cringing away from him.

"Hey there Ms. Frizzle. Can you slow down a scoch and let me off? I missed my exit." The bus driver slammed on the brakes and Deadpool bounced head first off of the windshield. The front doors opened and Wade turned to level a shot gun at the head of the persistent enforcer. The man was just about to say something as Wade shoved the end of the shot gun into the man's mouth and pulled the trigger. Blood and brain matter sprayed out over the sidewalk and Deadpool staggered back. The weary merc slumped down into the bus drivers lap. "Whew.. That was intense. I think I dropped a deuce during that."

Deadpool heaved a sigh and looked to the bus driver who had graciously offered her lap. ["You might want to throw out those pants later."]