Characters: Deadpool annddd OPEN NPCs: XQ patrons Location: XQ Timeline: Monday, Oct 25, 1975 Description: Deadpool does not enjoy what he sees. Rating: PG-13ish
"Gueeessss who got mooonneeey?" Deadpool did a little dance as he entered the XQ. He had been on a dry spell the last month and practically invisible to both Mutant Town and the rest of the city, but he always came back unchanged just like a stray dog. Deadpool had finally finished a particularly strenuous (BORRRIING) escapade that involved way too much waiting on roofs with binoculars and jumping unsuspecting goons in alleyways. That last part was fun, but even tying guys up by their toes for information got a little repetitive. After weeks and weeks of collecting information, he finally kicked down the door of the dealer he was tracking, broke his spine and stole everything he had. Which as it turned out wasn't much, but he could at least pay his rent and blow the rest on booze.
"I has mooonneeey." He waved a couple dollars in the air and then straightened up a little bit like he remembered he left the stove on.
The last time you waved money in some guy's face, he tore your fingers off.
We've had worse happen.
But, it was hard to use chopsticks that night at dinner.
"AGREED." Deadpool said loudly to himself and then with a nod went to sit at the end of the bar. Dressed in ragged jeans, a black leather jacket with a patched red circle on the back and a baseball cap, Deadpool looked like a man who kicked hippies in his free time. This wasn't entirely off base, either. It was hard to find good, old fashioned Communists these days (Not the same as hippies, but they might as well be) and that probably explained why the government was going after mutants. America always needed a bad guy to beat the crap out of, even if it was its own citizens.
Deadpool raised his hand and wiggled his fingers like they were doing the five man wave to get the attention of the bartender while watching the television. As a child of the television era, he was hypnotized by the glowing little box. He loved it more than he loved being able to use chopsticks efficiently. You don't want to be that guy who uses chopsticks too well, anyway. People are just going to think you're smug and an asshole.
The news was replaying the announcement about mutant registration, which didn't interest Deadpool in the slightest until they started talking about taking blood and technology. He also hated Captain Rogers' face. What was with that guy? Was he even a real person? Deadpool imagined him as one of those sci-fi robots that sat alone in a utility closet under a white sheet until he was needed. Not a second too soon, the program switched back to the news anchor who explained Mutant Town was on lockdown. And, then it hit him.
Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit, oh SHIT.
That's what we get for living under a rock for a month.
"This isn't happ-en-ing!" Deadpool sang to himself as he patted down his pockets, knowing full well he didn't have an ID or any form of registration that proved he was a perfectly normal human. Not a mutant. Not in the good damned slightest. He frantically looked around the bar and realized it was nearly deserted. He didn't think anything of it since it was a Monday night, but the mutants were always hanging out here like it was a control center. Usually, he was very good at escaping the view of Sentinels with his elite Black Ops ninja skills, but there did seem to be more on the streets lately. And, they were going to catch him if he tried to leave Mutant Town and mistake him for being a mutant.
"I'm stuck." Deadpool, defeated, slammed his head down on the bar like someone shot him in the back of his skull.