Deadpool story part 2
Author's note: Apparently I already have a request to continue posting my story soooooo here is the next part. its not long, but it will get there. Don't worry. Oh, and the Deadpool's banter at the very end is still in the works, so don't have a cow on me about the slight inconsistencies. It will get better soon.
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Pandora woke to the low hum of machinery permeating within the little room. Her arms, legs, and chest were strapped down to a cold metal slab. She concentrated on the bands, imagining them melting into a puddle of lukewarm water under her gaze, but nothing happened. She looked frantically around the room, becoming painfully aware of the thick metal collar constricting the movement. Pandora sighed.
“Of course,” she said aloud.
“You recognize the technology, then.” Norman Osborn appeared beside her, a smug yet determined expression on his face.
“So nice of you to grace me with your presence this time,” Pandora sneered. “Perhaps you’ve learned from your previous mistakes.”
“One can only hope,” Osborn replied flatly, ignoring the bait. He removed an elaborate torture device from a stainless steel case on the side table. “Judging from your little display earlier, I’m betting you aren’t going to answer my questions.”
“I have nothing to say to you .”
“Good. I’ve wanted to try out my new toy for some time now.”
He approached the slab eagerly and Pandora closed her eyes, bracing herself for the assault.
Pandora felt the cold cement strike her forehead as the guard tossed her to the floor of the cell. Her left leg was broken and she was bleeding from more wounds than she cared to count. She wished that she could get that damn collar off and set her healing factor to work. Thanks to the inhibitor, her reality was fixed and this notion, combined with the pain, had begun to take a toll on her ever-unstable mind. She dragged her broken body into a corner, curled up into a ball as best she could, and lost consciousness.
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And what exactly are we doing here again?
“Saving the hot chick from my future, of course!” Deadpool declared as he decapitated another set of security guards and continued down the dimly lit hallway. “If she dies now, how am I gonna get some in 300 years?”
True that. Plus, ol’ Normie will furious when he realizes that we’re the ones who stole his latest catch.
Fair enough.
He approached the end of the hall and blasted the door off its hinges, revealing the prison cell block. There were at least 30 cells in this hall alone.
Alright, wise guy, how do you plan on finding her?
“Easy,” Deadpool replied. “Avon calling!” His voice reverberated off of the cement walls, carrying all the way down the corridor.
“Wade?” a voice called to his left.
Three doors back.
“For serious?”
Yup.
Deadpool strode to the door and blasted the lock before kicking it open to reveal Pandora curled up in the corner of the cell. She opened her eyes as he approached.
“Get the collar off,” she rasped. “There’s a key...”
“You mean like this?” Deadpool held up and oddly shaped key. “I was wondering why it wasn’t opening any doors...”
Like you actually tried it on a door.
“Whatever,” he rolled his eyes.
“Just...get it off!”
“Alright, alright, don’t have an aneurysm on me!” He removed the collar and tossed it against the wall before picking her up and palming his teleporter.
“Homeward bound!” Deadpool declared, and they vanished from the cell, reappearing in a small, cheap hotel room.
“This is home?” Pandora said, looking around disdainfully. She detached herself from Deadpool and slumped into an armchair that looked far more appealing than the single bed.
“’Gee, thanks for saving me Deadpool! You’re the best!’” Deadpool retorted in a mock-girlish voice. “You know, a little gratitude would be nice, considering I just saved your sorry butt. And this is just...temporary. My secluded island retreat is currently being renovated, and these just happened to be the only available accommodations.”
Pandora laughed harshly. “You just keep telling yourself that. Well as long as we’re safe, I’m going to catch some shuteye and let my body do the rest.”
Ask her if she needs anything, like Aspirin or gauze pads or whatever. That’s what the hero is supposed to do. I think.
“I’m fine, thanks,” she said. “My healing factor is on par with yours, if not better.”
Deadpool stared at her.
“Is this one of those times when I think I thought in my head but really I said it out loud?”
“Nah, it was in one of those little yellow boxes that floats around your head.”
What???
What???
“What??”
“Speechless for once?” she yawned. “There’s really no way to explain it. I see the way that other people perceive reality as well as my own. And yours just happens to be complete with narrative boxes.” She closed her eyes and within a few minutes was breathing deeply.
Well that was...unexpected.
Unexpected? Is that all you have to say? I’ll tell you what that was. That was just plain, damn weird.
“Isn’t that what Samuel L. Jackson said in that movie with the Batman wannabe and the little hopping mutant foot?”
And the hot chick from The Other Boleyn Girl.
You watched The Other Boleyn Girl? Where was I during this?
How should I know? We were in some seedy motel with no porn channel. Or maybe it was here. Was it here?
“SLJ always gets the best lines,” Deadpool mused aloud. “Like, ‘Get these muthaf**kin’ snakes off my muthaf**kin’ plane!’”
Man, that dude is wicked awesome. He even gets to be Nick Fury. I mean, who else can say that?
Nick Fury.
Word.
“Y’know, it would be nice to actually catch some Z’s so that my body can recalibrate after, you know, being tortured and all,” Pandora interrupted. “I really could care less about the new Iron Man movie or whatever.”
Actually, Nick only had a small cameo in Iron Man and it was after the-
“After the credits, I know. Why don’t you watch Buffy on mute or something? Even the merc with a mouth should be able to amuse himself in silence for a couple hours.”
Deadpool shrugged and turned on the television. Sure enough, a rerun of Buffy had just begun. He pushed the mute button on the remote and reclined on the little bed, which creaked under his weight. Satisfied, Pandora settled back into the armchair and closed her eyes.
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Pandora woke to the low hum of machinery permeating within the little room. Her arms, legs, and chest were strapped down to a cold metal slab. She concentrated on the bands, imagining them melting into a puddle of lukewarm water under her gaze, but nothing happened. She looked frantically around the room, becoming painfully aware of the thick metal collar constricting the movement. Pandora sighed.
“Of course,” she said aloud.
“You recognize the technology, then.” Norman Osborn appeared beside her, a smug yet determined expression on his face.
“So nice of you to grace me with your presence this time,” Pandora sneered. “Perhaps you’ve learned from your previous mistakes.”
“One can only hope,” Osborn replied flatly, ignoring the bait. He removed an elaborate torture device from a stainless steel case on the side table. “Judging from your little display earlier, I’m betting you aren’t going to answer my questions.”
“I have nothing to say to you .”
“Good. I’ve wanted to try out my new toy for some time now.”
He approached the slab eagerly and Pandora closed her eyes, bracing herself for the assault.
Pandora felt the cold cement strike her forehead as the guard tossed her to the floor of the cell. Her left leg was broken and she was bleeding from more wounds than she cared to count. She wished that she could get that damn collar off and set her healing factor to work. Thanks to the inhibitor, her reality was fixed and this notion, combined with the pain, had begun to take a toll on her ever-unstable mind. She dragged her broken body into a corner, curled up into a ball as best she could, and lost consciousness.
----------------------------------------
And what exactly are we doing here again?
“Saving the hot chick from my future, of course!” Deadpool declared as he decapitated another set of security guards and continued down the dimly lit hallway. “If she dies now, how am I gonna get some in 300 years?”
True that. Plus, ol’ Normie will furious when he realizes that we’re the ones who stole his latest catch.
Fair enough.
He approached the end of the hall and blasted the door off its hinges, revealing the prison cell block. There were at least 30 cells in this hall alone.
Alright, wise guy, how do you plan on finding her?
“Easy,” Deadpool replied. “Avon calling!” His voice reverberated off of the cement walls, carrying all the way down the corridor.
“Wade?” a voice called to his left.
Three doors back.
“For serious?”
Yup.
Deadpool strode to the door and blasted the lock before kicking it open to reveal Pandora curled up in the corner of the cell. She opened her eyes as he approached.
“Get the collar off,” she rasped. “There’s a key...”
“You mean like this?” Deadpool held up and oddly shaped key. “I was wondering why it wasn’t opening any doors...”
Like you actually tried it on a door.
“Whatever,” he rolled his eyes.
“Just...get it off!”
“Alright, alright, don’t have an aneurysm on me!” He removed the collar and tossed it against the wall before picking her up and palming his teleporter.
“Homeward bound!” Deadpool declared, and they vanished from the cell, reappearing in a small, cheap hotel room.
“This is home?” Pandora said, looking around disdainfully. She detached herself from Deadpool and slumped into an armchair that looked far more appealing than the single bed.
“’Gee, thanks for saving me Deadpool! You’re the best!’” Deadpool retorted in a mock-girlish voice. “You know, a little gratitude would be nice, considering I just saved your sorry butt. And this is just...temporary. My secluded island retreat is currently being renovated, and these just happened to be the only available accommodations.”
Pandora laughed harshly. “You just keep telling yourself that. Well as long as we’re safe, I’m going to catch some shuteye and let my body do the rest.”
Ask her if she needs anything, like Aspirin or gauze pads or whatever. That’s what the hero is supposed to do. I think.
“I’m fine, thanks,” she said. “My healing factor is on par with yours, if not better.”
Deadpool stared at her.
“Is this one of those times when I think I thought in my head but really I said it out loud?”
“Nah, it was in one of those little yellow boxes that floats around your head.”
What???
What???
“What??”
“Speechless for once?” she yawned. “There’s really no way to explain it. I see the way that other people perceive reality as well as my own. And yours just happens to be complete with narrative boxes.” She closed her eyes and within a few minutes was breathing deeply.
Well that was...unexpected.
Unexpected? Is that all you have to say? I’ll tell you what that was. That was just plain, damn weird.
“Isn’t that what Samuel L. Jackson said in that movie with the Batman wannabe and the little hopping mutant foot?”
And the hot chick from The Other Boleyn Girl.
You watched The Other Boleyn Girl? Where was I during this?
How should I know? We were in some seedy motel with no porn channel. Or maybe it was here. Was it here?
“SLJ always gets the best lines,” Deadpool mused aloud. “Like, ‘Get these muthaf**kin’ snakes off my muthaf**kin’ plane!’”
Man, that dude is wicked awesome. He even gets to be Nick Fury. I mean, who else can say that?
Nick Fury.
Word.
“Y’know, it would be nice to actually catch some Z’s so that my body can recalibrate after, you know, being tortured and all,” Pandora interrupted. “I really could care less about the new Iron Man movie or whatever.”
Actually, Nick only had a small cameo in Iron Man and it was after the-
“After the credits, I know. Why don’t you watch Buffy on mute or something? Even the merc with a mouth should be able to amuse himself in silence for a couple hours.”
Deadpool shrugged and turned on the television. Sure enough, a rerun of Buffy had just begun. He pushed the mute button on the remote and reclined on the little bed, which creaked under his weight. Satisfied, Pandora settled back into the armchair and closed her eyes.