It's a particularly difficult situation to judge objectively when you do something that isn't exactly you doing it. But it is. If someone said that to you, would you understand what they were getting at?
No?
Well that's fantastic, because now you're on the same page as Jamie. He doesn't know either, and it's difficult to say what about him he genuinely did know with certainty. On the other hand, all existential psychobabble really had very little point when the wronged party was a clinically insane, world class assassin.
Jamie skidded to a halt. "Wade Wilson?" It was hard to venture a guess as to why exactly he was here, but there were very few actual reasons for encountering Deadpool that were actually any good for your health. Better play this one close to the chest.
This godforsaken city. City. Spoken with reverence, as if one could actually hear the capital c. Yet all it really did for Monet was cause trouble. For instance, prior to arriving here, she could fly. Now, all she could do was run (granted, much faster than any normal human, but not as fast as Pietro Maximoff, for example), which she began to do at about three blocks distance. She quickened her pace when she heard Deadpool screaming, and winced, thinking about what he'd told her the other night.
"I want to kill Jamie Madrox. Every last one of him."
This really didn't bode well for Jamie, but few things did. Jamie, I'll be there in a half a second. Don't piss him off. He really wants you dead.
Jamie reeled, and immediately started to massage his clicking jaw.
"Wade," he began, hoping to elicit some kind of reason with... pizza face over here. "That's not how it works! I can't just pull him out."
With his hands up in defensive ceasefire, he slowly began to approach the other, as though Wade were a rabid animal. With knives. "You think I'm happy about this? About Terry?"
"In fact, I agree with you.
I... I deserve whatever is coming to me." He dropped his eyes and put his hand on his shoulder, resigning himself to his fate.
"I just can't control it, you know... it's just...
I'm unpredictable." Jamie began, leaning in close.
"I'm the X-Factor." He smiled, and having stolen one away, buried one of Wade's very massive blades in his belly.
Comments 23
No?
Well that's fantastic, because now you're on the same page as Jamie. He doesn't know either, and it's difficult to say what about him he genuinely did know with certainty. On the other hand, all existential psychobabble really had very little point when the wronged party was a clinically insane, world class assassin.
Jamie skidded to a halt. "Wade Wilson?" It was hard to venture a guess as to why exactly he was here, but there were very few actual reasons for encountering Deadpool that were actually any good for your health. Better play this one close to the chest.
Reply
"I want to kill Jamie Madrox. Every last one of him."
This really didn't bode well for Jamie, but few things did. Jamie, I'll be there in a half a second. Don't piss him off. He really wants you dead.
Reply
A fist immediately cracks him across the jaw.
"Bring him out, Madroxycontin! Bring out the one what completely screwed up my girl's head!"
Reply
"Wade," he began, hoping to elicit some kind of reason with... pizza face over here. "That's not how it works! I can't just pull him out."
With his hands up in defensive ceasefire, he slowly began to approach the other, as though Wade were a rabid animal. With knives. "You think I'm happy about this? About Terry?"
"In fact, I agree with you.
I... I deserve whatever is coming to me." He dropped his eyes and put his hand on his shoulder, resigning himself to his fate.
"I just can't control it, you know... it's just...
I'm unpredictable." Jamie began, leaning in close.
"I'm the X-Factor." He smiled, and having stolen one away, buried one of Wade's very massive blades in his belly.
Reply
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