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The meeting between Ralph J. Cordiner, CEO of GE, and a group of investors from England is just breaking up. Rather than use one of the offices, Cordiner decided an elegant restaurant in the Financial District might grease the wheels a bit better. As people make their way outside, he makes chit-chat with them, laughing about some unseen joke. Perhaps something only rich people would understand.
Speaking of rich people, Charles Xavier is finishing up some of his finances at a bank across from town. After the Great Depression, and even with FDIC insurance, the young Professor is careful to keep his money scattered in order to keep it if the economy were to fall apart again. It's not just him anymore; he has a school full of students, albeit fledgling, that he needs to plan for.
Xavier steps out onto the street with a briefcase in hand, just across the street from Cordiner. It's a few blocks down to the car he has waiting for him—he just loves these splendid walks in late afternoon as the city bathes in the orange hue.
American business interests. Sometimes it's just about business, but the more scientific advances that come right now, the deeper the government tries to get into it. And where the government is keeping tabs on things, then SHIELD is almost certainly keeping tabs themselves. It's not the CEO that has Jess's attention from where she's perusing a news stand, her white pedal pushers and floral blouse a reminder of the coming summer. Instead, it's the SHIELD agent who's on security detail just outside the patio. Handing the man at the newsstand a few dollars for a pack of cigarettes, she starts toward the agent, putting on a friendly smile.
"Hey," she greets as she gets closer, taking out a cigarette. "Got a light?"
''It was just my imagination…''
Deadpool is leaning against a shop advertising color televisions and mahogany finished radios now with monostereo attachments for the whole family! The Temptations playing has his head bobbing a little, much to people's chagren, since he's head to toe covered in black and red spandex with a pair of Japanese swords cris-crossed on his back and two very unseemly, subtle, pistols on either hip.
"Don't mind me, citizens of America. I'm just here for Dick Van Dyke's autograph." That probably doesn't put their mind at ease, but then someone says, 'oh man I love that show!' and Deadpool says, "right?! They don't make'em like that naymore."
"It's just my 'magination… runnin' awayyyy with me…"
But why are you HERE Wade?
I'm glad I asked.
There is a businessman sitting on the patio having late dinner at Cordiner. Deadpool is going to stab him with a sword. Right in the heart.
"Sure do, miss."
The SHIELD agent removes a lighter from the inside of his dark coat and flicks it expertly. The orange glow sparks up, just visible over the smell of the lit fluid of the zippo.
"Nice evening, dontcha think?" asks Agent De Garmo, making small talk.
Meanwhile, Charles puts the free hand into his pocket and begins to stroll down the busy Manhattan street. That is, until he sees Deadpool. With his swords and the spandex, two s-words that make for immediate attention, and stops. His fingers go up to his temple and attempts to enter the madhouse of Deadpool's mind!
"Mmmhmm," Jess hums, leaning in to light her cigarette. "Thanks. You work around here?" She takes a draw, crossing one arm lazily under her chest as she looks around. It's not all she's doing, though. Slowly, she lets just a little bit of pheromone seep out of her pores. Look at the pretty lady, agent. Don't you want to make the pretty lady happy?
I've literally waited my whole life for this oppertunity… my patience is so worth it! Oh my god, where do I even begin to describe the inner workings of my mind? I mean, who do you thank first?! I mean, I guess, first and foremost we have to thank our parents you know? If they hadn't put D's in P's we wouldn't be here… it's just the right thing to do.. also did you noticed that my reference was DP? How appropriate!!
I mean, after that we really have to thank the comic code. We're in the 60s right now, of course, so there's still one in full force… no wait, now we're in camp era where Batman is a quasi homo chasing a boy in scale shorts… Okay, so let's not get tied down with details on ''that'' odd love triange.
Then there's the whole deal with el capiton over there eating raviolli or whatever… god I want some raviolli. How old is Donald Trump right now? Does he have Trump Towers? I hear the Taco Bowls are ''amazing'' in Trump Tower.
Farts are funny.
Deadpool scratches his butt and stares at the meeting, clearly waiting for something while Charles digs into his head, but he asked for it, so Deadpool doesn't feel at all ashamed… instead, he pushes an elbow off the wall and starts walking steadily towards the resteraunt. "It was jus' my 'magination…." Snapping, arms swings, "Note to self, money into Mo-town…"
We should have been more subtle. Like a trench coat or something.. maybe one of those Humphry Bogart hats. That guy has mad swagger. He's the bee's knees… the cat's meow.
Dude, is pot illegal yet? No, Kennedy is still alive…
"Note to self, don't go to Texas."
"Well, I work here in downtow—" Agent De Garmo stumbles with his words and thoughts as the attraction of the pheromones begins to take him over. For a while he's just glazed over. It seems he really does want to make the pretty lady happy.
In a moment, Deadpool stops walking. And just stands. To onlookers he appears as an elderly gentleman with a bit of a hunch in his back, a fedora, and thick glasses. On the inside, Deadpool sees something very different.
*
Deadpool awakens in an old pagoda in rural Japan. Outside there's a lush green forest, but the sky is grey and covered in clouds. He is seated upon his knees and in front of him, a man in a business suit, with his face blotted out in scratched out pen speaks to him.
"Hello," says Charles Xavier through the voice of a sci-fi computer.
"My name is X. You seem to be about to do something rather rash. I thought I would bring you here, somewhere I visited several times in my youth. It always brought me peace."
Yep, that's the look. On the up side, it means Jess doesn't have to worry too much about the flicker of contempt that crosses her features when she sees it. "You work here in downtown, huh?" she asks, keeping that smile in place for the rest of the people around and easing up on the pheromones. "Where's that? You know, in case I wanted to come and meet you for a lunch date or something some day."
"What an unexpected twist!" Deadpool says, the eyes on his mask widening as he does so. Both hands jerk outward in classic, surprise! fashion, "Well, I don't know that I'd call it rash… I mean, I know exactly what I'm doing and I'm getting paid a whole lot of money to do it." He leans a little towards Charles and stage whispers, "Plus I have it on pretty high authority that I'm not the only one going after the target…"
He winks, he nudges, he nods. "When in Rome." It takes some adjusting, but Wade manages to get down onto the ground with a few grunts until his legs are crossed beneath him. "Like I was saying, not rash at all. More calculated, planned, and endlessly violent. There's probably going to be a whole lot of blood, too…" She clearly doesn't know what rash means.
He does understand tea time though. Suddenly he has tea, which he sips through his mask, with his pinky out.
"Little office building on Varick and Canal," the agent says with a smile. "That is of course until we move into our new digs. Swell place, I tell ya." He seems pretty proud. Pretty proud and totally in love.
Back in Japan, Charles recoils just a bit as Deadpool nears him with the stage whisper. "Is that so?" he says, recovering quickly. "Who all wants this person dead? And who is it that is so unfortunate."
Charles raises his eyebrow.
On the table in front of him, Deadpool finds several plates of chimichangas.
Charles relies on Deadpool's mind for the making of the mexican 'thingamajig'. He's not had the pleasure.
"Oh yeah? I bet it's pretty secure. When they pick the people to keep an eye on someone as important as Mr. Cordiner over there, they must go with the real professionals." Jess glances back toward the CEO, taking another drag on her cigarette. Wait a minute, how does she know he's security? And who he's watching? Don't think too hard about it, Agent. "How's a suit like that merit protection like you anyhow?"
"Oh, just some guy." Deadpool explains, distracted by the appearance of chimichangas, "Is this like one of those dreams where I wake up covered in…" His brow furrows beneath the mask, "WAIT A SECOND! You're trying to distract me! Well, listen here, buddy boy, I'm not so easily distracted as that.. I'm a master at subterfuge. A spy peer none."
Not so disciplined that he's not going to roll up his mask and have a bite of a delicious, juicy chimichanga though. That's just crazy talk.
"Listen-" Between chewing, with his mouth full, "-I really need to get back to reality. How about we reschedule this play date after I stab that guy to death, fight a couple ninjas, and get the girl?"
"Hot tip," the agent responds. "Some mark they call the Deadpool was supposed to be trying to off him. We heard it through some sources, but couldn't be sure. To be on the safe side, I got sent in to keep the peace."
"Who names themselves Deadpool anyhow? Sounds like a Circus Ride."
Meanwhile, back in Deadpool's mind
"This is remarkable, Mr. Wilson. You seem to be an extremely powerful sort of mutant. I've never seen the ability to hea—"
And Charles realizes he's losing him.
So, a large stack of Hugh Hefner's finest magazines, filled with all the images pilfered from Deadpools mind land on the table in the spaces between the plates.
"That makes sense." Or at least, now Jess has a little bit more information. "Look, you seem like a nice guy, agent, but I'm sort of on a schedule, if this Deadpool guy's going to be showing up to do a job, so I'm going to have to get to the point. If I wanted to find a certain Nick Fury, where would I find him?" Flicking ash from the end of her cigarette, she looks around the area, searching for anyone who looks like a killer. Good thing Charles covered that base.
If Deadpool's eyes could pop out of his mask, they totally would! In perfect comedic timing! He "WOWZERS!" At the sudden appearance of Hefner's ladies of lude!
"Mister X… can I call you professor? Professor X sounds so much better than Mister X, doesn't it?" See, he still has no idea who Charles is, no worries.. wink wink nudge nudge… "Listen, Professor X… I got work to do.. and while I'd love to show you lil'd while I paruse the ''articles'' in these magazines… I gotta get back to it, you understand."
Deapool pushes himself up with a huff, literally leaping to his feet and stretching. After tugging his spandex from his bum, he looks around the spread virtual Japan of his mind, "Where's the door?" He points in one direction and walks that way, then stops… holds up his hands and nods like someone pointed in the other direction, and goes that way instead.
The agent looks sad, "Gee lady, I wish I could tell ya. I mean, they don't give me that sort of information." He looks even sadder as he can tell that she's going to leave his presence, to rip his heart out something fierce. He reaches out to grab her by the arm. "Maybe dinner sometime," he says, more of a statement than a question. Can't let this one get away.
Speaking of not being able to let one get away, Deadpool slams headlong into a glass wall. It even makes that windshield wiper sound as he slides against it, the classic sound that sound guys in Hollywood use to denote smearing on glass, despite it being highly unlikely spandex would make such a sound.
"I'm afraid I can't let you do that, Wade," the man with the scribbled out face says. "There are monsters that way."
Large dragons of red and green circle forty stories below, off the side of the pagoda, breathing fire and looking generally cantankerous.
Jess glances down at the hand on her arm, flicking a glance back up at the agent with a warning arch of her brow. "I could maybe do that," she says, thoughtful. "But I'd need you to help me out. I mean, if you don't know where I can find this Fury, then maybe you know someone who they do tell that information to? Of course, I'd have to make sure the information was good before I could give in on that dinner date."
"Listen, Professor.." Deadpool isn't giving up making that a thing, not without a fist fite, "I'm sure you mean well, but you're pancaking me here.. and I have a job to do. I could bore you by saying it's for national security or that he's going to ultimately be responsible for disco, but I wont…" Instead, he straight kicks the glass and watches it shatter into a bazillion pieces.
"Excuse me!" Where did he even get rope? Why is he wrapping it around himself?
Obivously so he can jump off the cliff that appeared and fall with it in hand, gracefully, down towards the Dragons! "I FELL INTO A BURNIN' RING OF FIRE!"
"I'd do anything," the agent says. "Anything." And the look of murder in his eyes makes him mean it. He's forgotten about his wife in Queens and their two kids, of course.
Deadpool falls many, many stories but when he plummets past the dragons and lands upon the hard ground, there doesn't seem to be any permanent damage.
Around him are all sorts of brick walls. Great. Some sort of maze.
A old timey Japanese man with white hair, a long beard, and a longer pipe sits on top of the wall and nods eerily to Deadpool, but says nothing.
This is what happens when you try to take shortcuts and do things the easy way. Complications. Jess flicks her cigarette away, smiling tightly back at the agent. "Find out where I can find Nick Fury. You can drop the information in Central Park. I'll know where to find it." This is a dead end, though. If he knew anything now, he'd say it. The pheromones…will hopefully wear off. Eventually.
"Excuse me, Mister Dong. I need to know the quietest, but not necessarily safest, route back to reality, post haste." Deadpool ''monkey points'' up at the old Jap sitting on the wall, "Give me what I desire old man Fong!" Which is totally chinese.
"Actually, don't. This is my head… All I have to do is wake up… so what do I usually do to wake up.." Wade rubs at his chin, stroking it, tu- "EURIKA!" And reaches for his pistols, puts it to his head, and pulls the trigger.
"Central Park?" says agent De Garma. He nods a few times, "It's a date." Slowly he releases Jess' arm and smoothes his coat. The pheromones are certainly strong.
BLAM!
Deadpool's brain matter is all over the ground as he pulls the trigger in his mind. Xavier, from across the street, let's out a blood curdling scream and the mirage of the elderly man is gone as Deadpool lays prone. Apparently the Merc with the Mouth slept-shot.
Charles tries to regain his composure and leans against a telephone booth.
"Oh please no," mutters Charles as he believes this mutant has killed himself.
Jess tenses at the gunshot, turning toward the sound. "What the-" Dammit. Independent professionals. Not always the most professional. Tucking the pack of cigarettes into her back pocket, she turns to see if the victim is the competition or if there's still a shooter at large. It would be terribly inconvenient if someone killed the agent before he had a chance to be useful to her, after all.
"FREEDOOOOOOMMMM" Deadpool screams into the late afternoon sky, arms wide above his head, and then he's running.
Like running very quickly.
Towards the resteraunt with a pistol already in hand. Across the street, leaping over the hood of a car with one hand planted on the hood of the old '57 buick or whatever. I don't know cars alright? Deadpool flips over the railing onto the patio ready to go full Killbrew dude on someone's ass unless CERTAIN EVIL ORGANIZATION NINJAS DONT ARRIVE….
Agent De Garma just sort of stands there as Jess makes her exit. The pheromones are so deep within his olfactory capacity that he doesn't even notice the gunshot, only her absence from his life.
As Deadpool approaches the CEO with half of brains hanging out of the side of his head, Charles realizes that this assassin's healing factor is extremely strong. In desperation, knowing that he'd likely recover, Charles 'goes there' with a mind bolt, attempting to stop Deadpool in his tracks by scrambling and rewiring his brain
There's only one Hydra ninja in the building, and she's currently extremely irritated at the interruption to her otherwise quiet op. But in the interest of keeping the agent from getting himself killed while he's still fuzzy in the head, Jess moves to intercept Deadpool with a leap of her own, already charging up a shock with an electric green/yellow glow in her hand. "Hey!" she calls over, trying to distract him.
Distractions and mind bullets and brains hanging out of his head; oh my.
Deadpool had a clear plan in mind. He drew it on a piece of paper with a brand new #2 pencil while listening to Billy Holiday. Then all these other people got involved and things started going sideways!
As he leaps into a most majestic flip, Jess shouts to him, and not being one to leave a lady hanging… he pauses in mid flip to address her, "Sup…" Then continues towards his target!
It was just enough time for Charles to hit him with a mind bullet, knock him off his death blow of the CEO, and into a stand of tables like so much waterboy crumpled in a mess of brain matter, guns, swords, and sexy, well sculpted, buttocks. "WHAT THE F—-…" Eyes narrowed, Deadpool stands up in a huff, swinging his arms in a flailing motion, and tries to right his swords because they're disheaveled, "What the hell! I'm here getting down on my grind and people are putting their noses in my preverbial cake batter!"
While Jess is getting in the way of Deadpool, there is no time to read her mind and see what intent she has. Instead, Charles fills the CEO's mind with the flight response. Cordiner, as well as his handlers and whoever is left from his meeting, all make a run for it, towards the back door.
Charles closes his eyes and reaches out through the mind and vision of others, eventually setting upon a driver with a gigantic black Ford Falcon van. Within a few moments, the Falcon settles at the curb, hopefully awaiting Cordiner and friends. The driver, glazed look on his face, leaps in the back and opens the door from the inside.
"Who tries to do a city job in costume with swords?" Jess counters Deadpool's exclamation, firing off a venom blast at the mutant. "Seriously. Window. Apartment building. Rifle. There are literally two dozen better places for a job than where you are standing right now." She almost seems more bothered by poor technique than she does by the fact that he's trying to kill someone. Actually, that's definitely what bothers her. The second blast barely packs any heat, more of a flick on the ear than a real hit. A distraction. "Try not to kill the security guard, would you?"
And then she's off, trying to disappear into the crowd again.
Two can play at that game mis venom sac!
Deadpool reaches down and grabs both pistols and saturates the eatery with bullets in an entirely over dramatized, unnecessarily sidways gun held, sweep of both arms in a half moon infront of him. It's like every single action move that's never been made yet.
Somewhere, a young Silvester Stallone is watching, getting inspiration for the Expendables… or maybe Cobra (because of venom! Get it?!)
The venom hits him and if it's all corrosive, and god I hope it is, it does a whole lot of damage to the red and black hero… but aside from yelping and trying to pat it off of himself, which spreads it, he doesn't seem the worse for ware.
He'll worry about that later.
The NPC is getting away.
Deadpool runs, leaping over tables, people hunched over trying to not get shot, and one old lady carrying a poodle like a handbag. Wade passes them with an; "excuse me, pardon me, sorry, nice dog" Then takes off down the street with both arms and legs pumping as he chases after the black van.
"NO! No, he's getting away!" He leaps and grabs hold of the back of the van as it pulls away, is dragged for a half mile, then gets thrown off into the same damn shope window where he was listening to the temptations.
"Ugh… This is just like an episode of the Dick Van Dyke show…" Someone passing states, for levity, 'I love that show'. "RIGHT?! They don't make it like that anymore…"
Daja vu ending.