#undeadpoolman

CONTINUED FROM HERE.

undeadpoolman:

What happened to the window wasn’t his fault.

Okay, sure, he did try break-dancing in his way too small room. And he may or may not have kicked his legs out too far and busted his window open.

It was a happy accident, though. It lead to this glorious view of man… no, not man. Angel. Manly, bearded angel, bathed in sunlight, with a drill in his hand.

It was all Wade could do not to squeak when the man’s arm flexed. Biceps as thick as telephone pole. Beautiful. He’d never seen anything so beautiful.

It didn’t even register to him his room was on the third story, and the man was flying, until he descended back to the ground.

Wade followed, caught in a daze as the angel left.

“No, wait-“

He didn’t let a stupid thing like the window stop him. He woke out of his reverie mid-fall.

“OH SHIT-“

He heard the exclamation from above, and looked up.  With just enough time to spare, Thor jumped high so that he could meet the falling man in the air, and ease the momentum so he wouldn’t be injured landing in Thor’s arms.

“You should be more careful, my friend!  I can mend a window shutter but I am quite ill equipped to mend bones!”  He had not put the man down yet as he wanted to ensure that he had his wits about him, otherwise he might not be able to support his own weight.  “Are you fit to stand?”

@undeadpoolman

He was mostly upright, levitating with fine-tuned TK, but he flew about the area, mentally scanning for any signs of his friend. Maybe he should have asked for directions, but that idea hadn't even occurred to him before heading out. The guy's mind may be a cesspit of bewilderment, impossible to tap into, but at least it stood out in this overgrown plane of undead grossness.

It had been such a dick move, on the part of the higher-ups, to kick Wade out over some outburst what had evidently resulted in literally nothing, but Quentin could hardly muster any surprise. The X-Men's patience meter had always been permanently stuck on the lower end of the scale for select individuals, and Wade's lack of technical a mutanthood didn't do him any favors for the sad excuse for a civil rights group. Still. It couldn't help but make Quentin wonder. The X-Men weren't big on him generally, and he wouldn't be surprised, either, if they tried to kick him out the moment he turned eighteen. But that was worries for another day.

He paused mid-air as he felt something, that whacky mess of nothing that he didn't want to get too deep into. He figured he'd have to try, at some point, exploring Deadpool's brain — for science or some shit — but this felt like enough adventure for one day. He was emotionally fired up. And therefore, after the unnecessarily long amount of time it took to find anyone, he was emotionally exhausted.

“Taco.” A large and crumpled foil wrapping was chucked at the red clad man as Nathan kicked the snow off a fallen tree trunk. “It’s not quite like the actual thing - we don’t exactly have cheese or avocado these days, but they tried their best.” He brush the residual powder off with his free hand before taking a seat and unwrapping his own meal.

@undeadpoolman

Fear

Anger

Aggression

Rage

Fear

Peter’s mind currently locked in chaos.  Trapped in the remnants of the nightmare he woke from in the middle of the night.   Thrown back into the memories from his sickness that he tried to bury.   Convinced that he would be a danger to the living he fled the warm humans that slept peacefully.  Climbing out the window and going over walls with ease, clad in nothing more than a sleep shirt and sweatpants that he’d fallen asleep in.   

He needed a target One that he could safely vent all the pent up aggression and violent impulses caused by his battle against the illness that threatened to take him over.  Peter could protect the living by taking it out on those that could not be saved.   So he followed his instincts and launched his path towards the closest group of infected.

@undeadpoolman

She was done reprimanding the dangerously foolish guards who had brought Wade Wilson inside the compound while he was infected.  While they had put the place at risk, they were also far less likely to survive the winter if they were thrown out of the compound.  If something like this happened again, however, there would be no leniency.

Now, to deal with the man at the centre of all of this.  Deadpool was an asset if, and only if, he could be trusted.  And he had simply shown that he was a danger time and time again.  Constantly returning to the compound infected, as if he was doing it for the fun of it.  Intentionally spreading infectious material was the straw that would break the camel’s back.

@undeadpoolman

A very novel feeling, boredom.   Before they never gave him time to his own devices.   Test after test, project after project, all designed to push the limits of what he could do.  At the same time he evaluated his environment, assessed threats, and developed his own plans on removing himself from the situation.  Isaac was used to having multiple things to focus on.  Having only one real problem irritated him.   

Of course exploring his environment and reading the various books he found helped to some extent.   What he really needed though another project.  Isaac found sometimes while working on one thing it jarred loose ideas for another.  Plus it kept him from being frustrated and irritated.  So when he found the equipment they used when people left the compound and investigated.

“Well, no shit, Sherlock. But are you sure YOU want to get into trouble if we get caught? This ain’t exactly the smartest prank either one of us has done.”

Wade looked over the jerry-rigged contraption before them. Even under Wade’s supervision of construction, this was a piece of shit.

“Seriously. Won’t your little Avenger buddies get their panties in a knot if you get caught with the likes of me?”

“I’m know for not listening too well and having a small rebellious streak.” Kate tilted her head at the contraption they made and snorted out a bit of a laugh it looked as if it were going to fall down any second.  

“You are worried about them getting into knots?” Kate questioned crossing her arms and raising a brow. That was a new one. “I mean what’s the worst that can go wrong? Zombies? That already kind of happened.” Kate joked before grinning mischievously poking him in the side in a playful manner. ”Probed by aliens?”

There was a dual purpose to her little visit to the kitchen. One, first and foremost a problem to be solved in the moment, was a stomach that had given a little growl not long ago. She hadn’t felt like eating much since she had arrived, but slowly her appetite was starting to return to the point where she actually had a sensation of craving now. Where she wanted something, versus just eating something because she knew she had to.

Secondary, it was something of a little scouting mission. Darcy wanted to snoop, to take stock of what was stocked, to see what could possibly be spared if anything. She had every stubborn intention of going back out there as soon as she could. If she could. She was still trying to get a feel for the place and hadn’t quite determined yet how much freedom she really had in making that choice. But she’d sure as shit try.

Leave it to Stark to have a kitchen that was as big as her whole damn apartment. Okay, sure, that was an exaggeration but really. It was stupidly big, enough so that it took a hot minute for her to realize she wasn’t alone. The rattle of the fridge door is what clued her in and Darcy took a leaning half step back from the pantry to see who her company was and whether or not she wanted to slink quietly back out.

Slinking was not happening, not once she caught sight of the familiar red and black clad merc straightening up, back half turned to her. Wade fucking Wilson. And she wasn’t exactly sure what to feel about these odds, to say this was the last thing she would have expected was an understatement. Yet she felt a little spark of...relief? He was a familiar face, someone she really knew. Despite...well, everything, she was honestly happy to see him.

So she gave a loud ahem, backing further out of the pantry and closing the door. “Hey yo, Maurice.”