Not for Resale

"No matter what way they write it... our past ain't nothin' but a whole lotta explodin' head mess. The one thing constant? We're treated and streeted and that's all we'll ever know... so why don't you losers suck it up and live!"

Slinking along the wooden floor boards of his Chicago apartment -- moldy wet top off from the hard-doing of the day, Deadpool's eyes peak surprised at her question. 'Not sure I could keep my hands to myself.' Said in his voice like churning gravel in the throat.

’AGGHH! Purple-eyed little –’ Slurp slrup; sound of flesh reattachin itself. Faint though obvious over his grumbling. ‘Wait till I slip my fist in'a yer – I’m kinky, hunny, but we ain’t in the bedroom.’

“Where’s the fun in that, dear? Who’s to say you can’t be kinky outside of the bedroom too, hmm?”

‘You think I’m gunna let these hipsters know any more of my moves? nuh-uh. They were my moves first!’

“Oh please, I doubt they would want to know how to do any of your moves while they’re watching me.”

‘Little vixen, ain’t ya? Kinda remind me o’ someone…’

“Are you joking? Even a vixen could only hope to be me.”

‘Why th'heck d'ya bite me anyway?’

“Fun things in life are spontaneous, dear.”

"dear" -- he leaned in, lifted up his mask, smoooooooch! dry lips puckered against hers then he withdrew. 'How's that for spontaneous?' she would see then the gangly, rotten appearence of his face -- perspective people had also of his soul which was good in nature. Misguided, sure -- like missile heading for paradise, got there and got the wrong perception of it after blowing the place sky-high.

’AGGHH! Purple-eyed little –’ Slurp slrup; sound of flesh reattachin itself. Faint though obvious over his grumbling. ‘Wait till I slip my fist in'a yer – I’m kinky, hunny, but we ain’t in the bedroom.’

“Where’s the fun in that, dear? Who’s to say you can’t be kinky outside of the bedroom too, hmm?”

‘You think I’m gunna let these hipsters know any more of my moves? nuh-uh. They were my moves first!’

“Oh please, I doubt they would want to know how to do any of your moves while they’re watching me.”

‘Little vixen, ain’t ya? Kinda remind me o’ someone…’

“Are you joking? Even a vixen could only hope to be me.”

'Why th'heck d'ya bite me anyway?'

’AGGHH! Purple-eyed little –’ Slurp slrup; sound of flesh reattachin itself. Faint though obvious over his grumbling. ‘Wait till I slip my fist in'a yer – I’m kinky, hunny, but we ain’t in the bedroom.’

“Where’s the fun in that, dear? Who’s to say you can’t be kinky outside of the bedroom too, hmm?”

‘You think I’m gunna let these hipsters know any more of my moves? nuh-uh. They were my moves first!’

“Oh please, I doubt they would want to know how to do any of your moves while they’re watching me.”

'Little vixen, ain't ya? Kinda remind me o' someone...'

’AGGHH! Purple-eyed little –’ Slurp slrup; sound of flesh reattachin itself. Faint though obvious over his grumbling. ‘Wait till I slip my fist in'a yer – I’m kinky, hunny, but we ain’t in the bedroom.’

“Where’s the fun in that, dear? Who’s to say you can’t be kinky outside of the bedroom too, hmm?”

'You think I'm gunna let these hipsters know any more of my moves? nuh-uh. They were my moves first!'

'AGGHH! Purple-eyed little --' Slurp slrup; sound of flesh reattachin itself. Faint though obvious over his grumbling. 'Wait till I slip my fist in'a yer -- I'm kinky, hunny, but we ain't in the bedroom.'

‘Nothin’,’ the Merc’s hand zipped behind his backside. ‘Also, move two steps left.’

'Actually -- ' A crate fell fast, heavy. ' -- a dive back to the right should do it!' The sound of the crate fallin' made its presence known now.

'Nothin',' the Merc's hand zipped behind his backside. 'Also, move two steps left.'

‘Don’t say I didn’t warn ya!’ Hand lifted mask – grievingly. Some grizzly face peered at Darcy now, gnashed teeth for the reccess lady’s breast (the song, Jeremy) and wild gangly eyes sunk yellow into his face. Along with that - bumpy skin like bulging road kill. Screams were heard around the two as they march down Broadway. The bar they searched for not very far away. ‘Well, take a nice look. Th'face that fired a thousand bullets. Now, can we get t'that bar? I won’t be long…’ Melancholy voice, veiled face again – mask dangling just below chin.

Darcy has a good poker face, and she puts it to use here. She’d already known Wade’s face wasn’t the prettiest, but she hadn’t really been expecting this. To be honest, she’d been expecting far worse. The internet was rife with rumors that he was missing an eye and several teeth, that his mouth was nothing but a yawning pit. Darcy hummed softly and then nods. “Yeah, I think it’s up here on the corner.”

Reaction was – strange, he thought. No muffled, eye blaring scream. No echoing slap that pries a tooth from his gums. Darcy did nothing. Just nothing. Emotion swells his chest cavity like thick soup; cutting off air supply – need release. Kid stops and stares at Deadpool; mother, too, both with gaping maw. ‘Whaddayoulookin'at? You should see me when I run outta my smashbox. Now get outta here you adopted horse-face bowl-cut freak.’ Better. Deadpool lifts his face back to Darcy. ‘Corner y'say? Lead the way… I’ll follow ya in. Gotta reload, heh.’

“Yeah, it’s just right here,” Darcy says, moving to open the door to the bar in question. “C'mon, I’ll buy ya a drink.”

‘Usually my line. Y'know, before I put ‘em in a wheelchair from – awh, you get what I’m implyin’. I’m irresistable.’ Deadpool walked in, door swinging closed behind them. He looked around; no grubby fat man with cain here. Maybe in back – probably right to ask bartender. And maybe some patrons. Chips of ceiling fall in white fluttering dust cloud – romantic response to bullet piercing it. 'I’m lookin’ for a more overweight Bruce Campbell lookin’ chump. Anyone seen 'im?’ Patrons with their backs to the walls shake heads with don’t kill me look. The barman’s shotgun had jammed and that creased a smirk on Deadpool’s mask. 'Darc’… could you be a doll an’ look for a backroom door? Probably shoulda warned ya, too that I was gunna do a bar-pop!’

“Uh, yeah, if I’d known guns were gonna be involved, I would’ve gotten drunk at home.” But Darcy starts forward to look for the door anyway, which she finds at the far end of the bar. “Here, I guess?”

'Don't worry, there's plenty of time for shennanigans later.' He said, walkin' past Darcy into the back room. Nobody there -- all cleared out, just a map of America plastered on the wall. A red pin bulges out from the Mexican Border defined on the map. 'Looks like we're gonna have t'follow my old friends Clooney an' Tarantino -- down to MEHICO! But first, we drink.'

‘Don’t say I didn’t warn ya!’ Hand lifted mask – grievingly. Some grizzly face peered at Darcy now, gnashed teeth for the reccess lady’s breast (the song, Jeremy) and wild gangly eyes sunk yellow into his face. Along with that - bumpy skin like bulging road kill. Screams were heard around the two as they march down Broadway. The bar they searched for not very far away. ‘Well, take a nice look. Th'face that fired a thousand bullets. Now, can we get t'that bar? I won’t be long…’ Melancholy voice, veiled face again – mask dangling just below chin.

Darcy has a good poker face, and she puts it to use here. She’d already known Wade’s face wasn’t the prettiest, but she hadn’t really been expecting this. To be honest, she’d been expecting far worse. The internet was rife with rumors that he was missing an eye and several teeth, that his mouth was nothing but a yawning pit. Darcy hummed softly and then nods. “Yeah, I think it’s up here on the corner.”

Reaction was – strange, he thought. No muffled, eye blaring scream. No echoing slap that pries a tooth from his gums. Darcy did nothing. Just nothing. Emotion swells his chest cavity like thick soup; cutting off air supply – need release. Kid stops and stares at Deadpool; mother, too, both with gaping maw. ‘Whaddayoulookin'at? You should see me when I run outta my smashbox. Now get outta here you adopted horse-face bowl-cut freak.’ Better. Deadpool lifts his face back to Darcy. ‘Corner y'say? Lead the way… I’ll follow ya in. Gotta reload, heh.’

“Yeah, it’s just right here,” Darcy says, moving to open the door to the bar in question. “C'mon, I’ll buy ya a drink.”

'Usually my line. Y'know, before I put 'em in a wheelchair from -- awh, you get what I'm implyin'. I'm irresistable.' Deadpool walked in, door swinging closed behind them. He looked around; no grubby fat man with cain here. Maybe in back -- probably right to ask bartender. And maybe some patrons. Chips of ceiling fall in white fluttering dust cloud -- romantic response to bullet piercing it. 'I'm lookin' for a more overweight Bruce Campbell lookin' chump. Anyone seen 'im?' Patrons with their backs to the walls shake heads with don't kill me look. The barman's shotgun had jammed and that creased a smirk on Deadpool's mask. 'Darc'... could you be a doll an' look for a backroom door? Probably shoulda warned ya, too that I was gunna do a bar-pop!'

     And as if almost on cue, the Santa Priscan entered the bar. All the other patrons took notice of the behemoth-sized South American, most of them leaving the bar. Knowing full and well what happened when you crossed the mercenary’s path. Brushing passed Wade, he took a seat on the stool next to him.      "Whiskey. Neat.“ He ordered from the bartender, who nodded in compliance. “What brings you into town, Señor Wilson?”

Long, ruling shadow – tight fitting clothes to great muscles (like a bull on steroids) No liquor to denounce the behemoth’s existence.  A cool chill entered the bar with him. Like Mexican drug lord. Bigger than Mexican drug lord. Wade’s breathe distilled by fear as they sat side-by-side now. ‘Oh, nothin’ ya big lug. Just enjoyin’ the cool refreshing taste of my senses being muddled and limbs goin’ all flubbery. Reckon y’win enough arm wrestles to buy a Merc’ a drink?’ 

     That earned the Merc’ a chuckle from the Santa Priscan as he gestured for the bartender to refill his glass. Complying with the bigger of the two’s request, Bane turned his attention back to Wade. Arms folded on top of the mahogany wood counter set in front of him.      "You look tense, Mr. Wilson. I took it for a man of your… talents, that fear didn’t suit you. Perhaps I was wrong. Pero, I assure you, you can relax. I’m not here to bring you harm. I come with a business proposal, in fact.“

'Funny. I just don't want a "killed once by giant man's fart" notch on my gravestone.' He satired. 'Buuuut out with the proposal, a man should be able to afford his own drink -- and a cushiony bussom from --' Making a see-saw noise, thumb gesturing to a wailing blonde -- cute face kinda overweight that a man doesn't mind.

‘Don’t say I didn’t warn ya!’ Hand lifted mask – grievingly. Some grizzly face peered at Darcy now, gnashed teeth for the reccess lady’s breast (the song, Jeremy) and wild gangly eyes sunk yellow into his face. Along with that - bumpy skin like bulging road kill. Screams were heard around the two as they march down Broadway. The bar they searched for not very far away. ‘Well, take a nice look. Th'face that fired a thousand bullets. Now, can we get t'that bar? I won’t be long…’ Melancholy voice, veiled face again – mask dangling just below chin.

Darcy has a good poker face, and she puts it to use here. She’d already known Wade’s face wasn’t the prettiest, but she hadn’t really been expecting this. To be honest, she’d been expecting far worse. The internet was rife with rumors that he was missing an eye and several teeth, that his mouth was nothing but a yawning pit. Darcy hummed softly and then nods. “Yeah, I think it’s up here on the corner.”

Reaction was -- strange, he thought. No muffled, eye blaring scream. No echoing slap that pries a tooth from his gums. Darcy did nothing. Just nothing. Emotion swells his chest cavity like thick soup; cutting off air supply -- need release. Kid stops and stares at Deadpool; mother, too, both with gaping maw. 'Whaddayoulookin'at? You should see me when I run outta my smashbox. Now get outta here you adopted horse-face bowl-cut freak.' Better. Deadpool lifts his face back to Darcy. 'Corner y'say? Lead the way... I'll follow ya in. Gotta reload, heh.'