1963-10-02 - Big 'Poolie in Lynette China(Town)
Summary: During his ever pressing quest for Francis, Deadpool meets Lynette in Chinatown.
Related: None
Theme Song: None
wade lynette 


That's the sound of glass breaking in case you weren't prepared for it. There's also a body that seems to have been thrown through it because that body hits the street and slides for a moment or two before the suited window-jockey slams up against the car parked nearby. As the bloody target of someone's affections struggles to his feet we pan over for the arrival of someone else…


The red and black clad mercenary doesn't seem to be in the best mood. "WHERE'S FRANCIS?!" comes out of the masked mouth as he tosses a pair of chopsticks over his shoulder. He flicks some glass off his shoulder and raises up the pistol he's been using as a club, probably, to fire off a shot into this other dude's leg. "Hmmmmmmmmmmm?!" He even cups a gloved hand behind his ear in an attempt to hear something more than pained screaming.

He doesn't get his wish.


"What de hell are y'doin'?!" A voice answers him, but not the one he wanted to hear. As the broken mook yowls with fresh pain he grabs at his leg and starts to squeeze on it, applying the best amount of pressure he knows how. That voice? It came from a figure who had stepped out of the mouth of an alley. The figure was…small. Short. Petite, and probably about as heavy as a cat, even soaking wet. Her attire was hand-me-downs from three years back in fashion, male, too, the excess fabric almost swallowing her up whole. And her hair was /glorious/. A massive collection of curls spring from her scalp, going every which way they naturally wished to.

That face was seething, brows furrowing, and full lips pursing. She doesn't move, and someone like the DP could notice that, in fact, she was trembling. Her hands had made tiny fists, and she asks once more. "What y'doin' t'dat man?"


"Hey! Hey! Do ya' mind?! I'm kind of on a date here?"

Deadpool just swings his gun around to point at the voice that's interrupting his interrogation of idiot. He can't actually pay attention to what's going on because he's a little too busy trying to find the one asshole to rule them all.

There's only time for the Devastating Deadpool to bum rush the man that's not giving him any information and put that gun right to his head. "Y'know. I was really hoping I wouldn't have to kill you until /after/ you gave me Francis' address. I mean, seriously, how are you guys this /fucking/ loyal? Does it pay you in like priceless jewels? Is sex involved?" Deadpool rambles off on a tangent long enough to realize something. "Oh! There's dental! That has to be it!"

BLAM!%RDeadpool shoots the guy in the head and sighs with a dramatic flare that moves right into a stretch of his arms way above his head.

Psst. Wade.

"Ugh. What /now/?"

Check out her hair.

Wade turns his attention towards the voice from not too long ago and his mask eyes bug out for just a moment. "HOLY FOLLICLES, BATMAN!" Deadpool moves with the quickness over to Lynette and just gawks in the direction of her head. "… Whoa." The Keanu Reeves impression is likely lost on anyone that can hear it but in a couple decades it'll be hilarious.


Lynette moves, but once the gun is pointed her way, she freezes in place. Those fists relax, and she holds up her hands, palms out. When the red and black nutto starts in on the man again, he's nothing more than a blubbering fool. Even if he wanted to talk, which apparently he didn't, he can't think straight enough to form a word. When another bullet barks into the night, echoing off buildings, a few lights in apartments flick on, illuminating windows.

Even if her face is one of abject horror at the scene, watching, gaping in both eyes and mouth as smoke still tendrils from the entry wound, she knows to get away from this. A black girl in the streets when a dead white man is laying there? No thank you.

Turning to bolt, she moves back down that alley, only to be chased, and caught up to, by Deadpool. Once again, she glaring, but even as her face twists in anger, her hands are up again. "I don' wan' no trouble." She explains, her Creole accent heavy as ever. "I won'…I won' tell nobody what I saw."


"'Ey mon! Gurl, ju kno' dat Deadpool bredren dun wan' nun dat treble eider!"

Deadpool's horrible accent makes absolutely no sense whatsoever but he's certainly willing to pour it on and make sure that this hairtastic female understands just how comfortable and awesome she should be. She's talking to /Deadpool/.

"What? Oh that?" Deadpool finally remembers that he just killed a guy and shrugs. "Don't worry about that. He'll be fine. It was just a scratch."

Back around the corner the man is so dead that there's no way he's not super dead. Back to Deadpool…

"Listen. I've got the most important question to ask you ever in the history of inquiries. How the /hell/ do you get your hair like that? I mean, I can't grow hair at all anymore and that really grinds my gears but you… you're like the Goddess of Afro Sheen!"


Lynette grumbles, a soft growl rumbling in her throat. "I ain't Jamacian y'fool!" She snaps, seeming to take some great offense to his…cultural sensitivity. The more he talks, the more she quirks a brow and her fear subsides. Her arms lower and she rests her back against the wall of one of the buildings they're standing between. "Be fine?! Y'killed'em. Dead. He ain't gettin' up neva! I seen 's brains goin' all over d'place n'everyt'ing!" The question catches her off guard, so much so that her expression just falls slack. "W-what? M'hair?" Reaching up, she pulls at a stray curl, pulling it straight only for it to bounce back into place. "I don'…do not'ing wit it. Jus' is de way it is."


Wade shrugs the biggest shrug of his career. "Yeah. I know. He's dead." The merc only seems to sound sad when he says this next part, "Lucky bastard." With that done, he's back in the other direction which probably proves that he's so WhyPolar that trying to keep up with his moods just doesn't work out for anyone involved. Including him. "And you." And me.

"Okay, I'm gonna' find a napkin and a pen and we're gonna' write up a contract right now that leaves all your hair to me if you suddenly and unexplainbly die of some random foolishness that I'm currently not planning in the least." There's a huge grin going on beneath that mask as he reaches into his various pouches to try and find exactly that napkin. "I could make a hat out of it!"


The girl had been in his company for less than five minutes, and already her moods had gone in a wild ride. She parts her lips to speak, then closes them. This happens a few times as her mind mulls over its words, trying to find the right thing to say. "Y'ain't gettin' m'hair." She decides at length, and then she continues. "Hey, y'ok?" Her voice is genuine, and there's a heavy amount of concern in her inflection. "Y', well…honey, y'crazy."


"Am I crazy?" Yes. "Really? I don't think I'm crazy." You're talking to yourself right at this exact moment. "Do you think she notices?" She's probably staring at you like you've lost your damn marbles because she can't hear anything that I'm typing the way you can. "Ah! But she can read it, though!" … Not exactly.

Deadpool finally comes down off his Horse of Tangent to pay close attention to the woman that he's decided to invade her personal space and all that. "You remind me of my roommate. Blind Al. Yeah, I call her that because she's allergic to shellfish." Deadpool shrugs and gives up on finding a napkin. "Gurl, dun be talkin' no mess, ja! I be from dem island! We do dirt!" Deadpool has no idea what he's talking about but he keeps trying to do her accent. "… did I get it right that time?"


"No." She says flatly, keeping herself up against the wall, her arms crossing under her petite chest. "Who y'talkin' to?" She pauses and smiles gently, "Or what y'talkin' to?" It doesn't seem to upset the girl, but she does look over his face, her teeth nibbling against her lower lip as she can't really see his expression, just the mask.


"Oh. My Player. We don't always see eye to eye. But since he can kinda' control everything I do, y'know, I try to let him live. It's a mutually beneficial relationship." Deadpool explains this with a shrug as if it's just going to make everything make actual sense. It probably manages to make matters worse. Deadpool doesn't particularly care if he does that or not. "So. What have we learned here today? Number A! If I ask a person where Francis is, that person should always lead with the correct answer! C? You have the best hair ever. And genesis 9:4 states that thou shalt not have thine ability to talk black!" Deadpool reaches out to slaps Lynette some skin. "Ain't that right, blood?" You're in the 70's again, Wade. "ZODDAMMIT!"


"Y'…player?" She pauses, even looking at her hand as it's touched, though she didn't offer it out for a correct 'five'. "Who's dat? Like…a god or somet'ing? Y'not de only one dat talks t'other t'ings, y'know?" Reaching up, she rubs at the nape of her neck. "Y'still killed dat man. Don' dat make y'a bad guy or somet'ing? Why shouldn' I be tellin' de cops 'bout you?"


"Um. First of all, I just started reading this book called The Bible. Needs a new title bad, I know, but anyway, God's apparently really busy right now flooding cities or something. I haven't gotten to the beginning yet but I'm pretty sure he's too busy to talk to me in my head. Besides, with the other voices in there, I probably wouldn't even hear him!" Deadpool holds up his hands to show just how innocent he is. Of course, there's blood dripping from the dark gloves but Wade just doesn't give a crap. "No way. See, I'm a /superhero/. Not by choice, though. See, my origin story involves this britsh douchenozzle named Francis. He turned me into… well, you'd have to see it to believe it and so I'm trying to hunt this fucker down and exact my violent and gory vengeance upon his very soul until he fixes me!" Deadpool shrugs. "See? Not a bad guy!"


"Y't'ink deys only one God?" She blinks gently, canting her head to the side. She doesnt' correct, him, though or mention her own ordeals with it comes to voices that come and go. She glances at the blood, and then to the street as sirens begin crying out from a few blocks away. Someone called, and now a response was happening. "Did dat guy out dere help hurt y'? Personally?"


"That /fuckhole/ worked for Francis. It said so on his underpants. And he wouldn't tell me where Francis is. Something I took /personally/. So yeah. He did hurt me." Deadpool wipes an imaginary tear from the face of his mask. "All I want is to be loved and adored by millions of log readers everywhere and something tells me this isn't going to paint me in the best light." Sniff! SNIIIIIIIFFFFF! "… is this getting me /any/ sympathy?" Deadpool tosses this towards the Hairy One.


Lynette glances out the alley mouth as the lights start to flash, painting the world outside of the shadows a continuing sweep of red and blue. The sirens die, finally, once the cars park, and people being gathering to rubber neck, as they are want to do. Her dark gaze focuses on the masked figure before her, and after pressing off the wall, she makes a soft 'tsk' noise and turns, walking away from him. "Don' do it in front 'me again." Is all she comments.


"Okay! Don't worry! I'll make sure you close your eyes next time! Good talk!"

Deadpool shrugs and turns to head the other way, towards the sirens and the people and all that. He walks right out into the masses and gets pointed at almost instantly.


"… Seriously? Already? This is racial profiling, you know!"

Deadpool turns and runs. Cops follow.

Benny Hill Music Activates.


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