Wait, I need a *title* for this?
A few days ago, __marcelo was wishing for a crossover between The Legion of Superheroes and... wait for it... the Cable & Deadpool intro pages.
Today I woke up and, for reasons known only to the deep recesses of my brain where I never go without a spork, thought "Yeah, why not?"
And.
The Story So Far
“Hiya folks. I’m Deadpool. Merc with a mouth and various other orifices which I won’t go into-“
“For fear of evisceration?”
“Something like that. Now it's your turn to tell them who you are.”
“There’s. No. One. There.”
“I thought you’d be better at breaking the fourth wall, really. I mean, your book has those nifty little letter pages.”
“A duty that, fortunately for my continued sanity, I’ve been thus far able to avoid.”
“Snicker.”
“...Did you just *say* ‘Snicker’?”
“Limitations of the format. And you got to say *continued* sanity, so it works out.”
“I’m not interested in the opinions of an uneducated primitive.”
“Takes one to know one.”
“I... You’re being childish.”
“You’re being childish.”
“Stop it at once!”
“Stop it at once!”
“...”
“...”
“...”
“..Okay, fine! You win (although I think that might have been cheating.)! Anyway, the smug looking green kid is Brainiac 5 from the planet of Cool.”
“Colu.”
“There, see? I knew you’d get the hang of this. I’ve somehow ended up a thousand years in another dimension’s future, thanks to previous plot points that you’d just skip over if I listed them.”
“No, wait. How *did* you get here. It makes no sense.”
“Angle bracket, sigh, angle bracket. You science types are way too obsessed with the details. It’s a wonder you ever blow anything up at all.”
“You have me confused with my previous incarnations. My latest character design is much more responsible and stable minded.”
“Riiiiight. We’ll go with that. Best I can figure-”
“Oh, *this* should be an valuable and informative exercise.”
“Thank you.”
“It was sarcasm, you nitwit.”
“In future talk, he’s probably asking for the name of my tailor. Sorry, pal. I’m not sure red and black would go with your complexion.”
“Argh.”
“But the writer is forcing me back on topic, so: your publisher has that whole Infinite Crisis in Infinite Miniseries thing going on.”
“The Legion is set a thousand years away from that mess, and further along the universal vibrolength scale besides. The title should be insulated well enough, unless Waid gets high on nostalgia and has us team up with Superman. And even that eventuality would hardly explain *you*.”
“Hey, I’m just going with what I know. We already had the continuity reboot over at Marvel, so I can recognize the signs. Gratuitous crossovers, guys with extra limbs, dead people turning into babies, and... You okay, Greenie? You look like you just realized you’ve forgotten to switch off the space-coffee maker.”
“Yes, it’s just. I have to check something in the lab...”
“Fine, leave me to run unsupervised among the unwary... Hey! Come back! I don’t even know where the nearest MacDonald’s is!
“Nice guy. I mean, okay, kind of an asshole, and the necrophilia’s a bit off-putting, but anyone running around in flesh-coloured spandex probably gets away with a *lot* of questionable behaviour -- Aw, maaan. I’m speaking in Canadian.
“Honour. Theatre. Cheque.
“Cable was right. The future is a horrible, horrible place.”
Today I woke up and, for reasons known only to the deep recesses of my brain where I never go without a spork, thought "Yeah, why not?"
And.
The Story So Far
“Hiya folks. I’m Deadpool. Merc with a mouth and various other orifices which I won’t go into-“
“For fear of evisceration?”
“Something like that. Now it's your turn to tell them who you are.”
“There’s. No. One. There.”
“I thought you’d be better at breaking the fourth wall, really. I mean, your book has those nifty little letter pages.”
“A duty that, fortunately for my continued sanity, I’ve been thus far able to avoid.”
“Snicker.”
“...Did you just *say* ‘Snicker’?”
“Limitations of the format. And you got to say *continued* sanity, so it works out.”
“I’m not interested in the opinions of an uneducated primitive.”
“Takes one to know one.”
“I... You’re being childish.”
“You’re being childish.”
“Stop it at once!”
“Stop it at once!”
“...”
“...”
“...”
“..Okay, fine! You win (although I think that might have been cheating.)! Anyway, the smug looking green kid is Brainiac 5 from the planet of Cool.”
“Colu.”
“There, see? I knew you’d get the hang of this. I’ve somehow ended up a thousand years in another dimension’s future, thanks to previous plot points that you’d just skip over if I listed them.”
“No, wait. How *did* you get here. It makes no sense.”
“Angle bracket, sigh, angle bracket. You science types are way too obsessed with the details. It’s a wonder you ever blow anything up at all.”
“You have me confused with my previous incarnations. My latest character design is much more responsible and stable minded.”
“Riiiiight. We’ll go with that. Best I can figure-”
“Oh, *this* should be an valuable and informative exercise.”
“Thank you.”
“It was sarcasm, you nitwit.”
“In future talk, he’s probably asking for the name of my tailor. Sorry, pal. I’m not sure red and black would go with your complexion.”
“Argh.”
“But the writer is forcing me back on topic, so: your publisher has that whole Infinite Crisis in Infinite Miniseries thing going on.”
“The Legion is set a thousand years away from that mess, and further along the universal vibrolength scale besides. The title should be insulated well enough, unless Waid gets high on nostalgia and has us team up with Superman. And even that eventuality would hardly explain *you*.”
“Hey, I’m just going with what I know. We already had the continuity reboot over at Marvel, so I can recognize the signs. Gratuitous crossovers, guys with extra limbs, dead people turning into babies, and... You okay, Greenie? You look like you just realized you’ve forgotten to switch off the space-coffee maker.”
“Yes, it’s just. I have to check something in the lab...”
“Fine, leave me to run unsupervised among the unwary... Hey! Come back! I don’t even know where the nearest MacDonald’s is!
“Nice guy. I mean, okay, kind of an asshole, and the necrophilia’s a bit off-putting, but anyone running around in flesh-coloured spandex probably gets away with a *lot* of questionable behaviour -- Aw, maaan. I’m speaking in Canadian.
“Honour. Theatre. Cheque.
“Cable was right. The future is a horrible, horrible place.”