….
"WHAT DID YOU DO TO ME?!"
Ajax smiled. "I made you immortal. Ugly, but immortal."
Wade snapped. Used his newfound strength to break free, started a fire.
The facility collapsed in flames and he managed to escape.
Ajax and Angel survived.
….
Wade, hiding his face under a hood, returned to Sister Margaret's.
Weasel's reaction when Wade showed his face: "HOLY MOTHER OF - Wade?! Is that you?!"
"Yeah."
"You look like Freddy Krueger face-fucked a topographical map of Utah!"
"Thanks."
"I mean seriously, you look like an avocado had sex with an older, more disgusting avocado—"
"Are you DONE?!"
Despite the jokes, Weasel helped.
Gave Wade a room upstairs to hide in.
Wade spent months isolated, planning revenge.
Created the Deadpool suit - red and black to hide bloodstains, fully masked to hide his face.
He couldn't go back to Vanessa, not looking like this.
Blind Al appeared - an elderly blind woman who became Wade's roommate through circumstances that were never fully explained.
"Why am I here, Wade?"
"Because I needed a roommate and you can't see my face."
"I can hear the scarring in your voice. You sound like you gargle gravel."
"You're a delight, Al."
Their dynamic was pure dysfunctional comedy:
Al: "Did you eat my Ben & Jerry's?"
Wade: "Maybe."
"That was the last of my Chubby Hubby!"
"Well you can't see it, so what does it matter?"
"I hate you so much."
Montage of Deadpool hunting Ajax's associates. Leaving bodies.
Asking the same question: "Where's Francis?"
One guy tied upside-down from a bridge: "I don't know!"
"Wrong answer." Deadpool cut the rope. (Sound of impact below)
Another in a nightclub: "Where's Francis?"
"Fuck you!"
Deadpool beat him unconscious, then looked at the DJ. "Sorry about the blood. Can you keep the music going? Really sets the mood."
The violence was cartoonish and brutal - stylized enough to be darkly funny, realistic enough to be shocking.
….
[BACK TO PRESENT]
Highway, present day as deadpool surrounded by corpses.
Deadpool stood among the wreckage, one surviving guard zip-tied to a twisted piece of guardrail. The man was bleeding from his nose, breathing hard.
"Okay, Francis Junior, let's try this again." Deadpool crouched down, spinning a knife. "Where. Is. Francis?"
"I don't know, man! He doesn't tell us shit—"
"Wrong answer." Deadpool pressed the blade against the guy's kneecap. "I've got all day and a healing factor. You've got working legs. Let's see who breaks first."
The guard's eyes went wide. "Wait, wait! There's a facility - east side, near the docks! He uses it sometimes!"
"Sometimes?"
"I swear that's all I know!"
Deadpool studied him. "You know what? I believe you." He stood up, sheathed the knife. "See? We got there eventually. Cooperation is—"
CLANG.
Heavy and metallic.
Deadpool spun around, hand moving to his katana.
Eight feet of chrome-plated muscle stood twenty feet away, arms crossed. Beside him, a teenage girl in black leather, phone in hand, looking deeply unimpressed.
"Oh, what the hell?" Deadpool muttered, standing slowly.
The metal giant stepped forward, each footfall leaving indents in the asphalt. "Step away from him."
"I am sorry, who are you exactly?" Deadpool kept his hand near his katana. "Because you're interrupting—"
"I am Colossus. This is Negasonic Teenage Warhead." His voice was deep, Russian-accented, absolutely serious. "We are X-Men. And you are under arrest."
Pause.
"Under arrest? By who? The Tin Man and his teenage sidekick?"
"We are mutants." the girl, Negasonic, said flatly, still texting. "Real ones. Not whatever science experiment you are."
Deadpool blinked. "Mutants, right, the genetic lottery people. So what, you've got a superhero club? Matching uniforms? Do you do team-building exercises?"
Colossus moved closer, surprisingly gentle despite his size. "We are a school for people with abilities. We teach control, give purpose—"
"That's adorable, but I am busy." Deadpool turned back to his prisoner. "So this facility at the docks—"
The guard was gone.
Just the zip-tie, cut clean through, lying on the ground.
"What the—" Deadpool spun in a circle. "Where the hell did he—"
"He ran while you were distracted," Negasonic said, not looking up from her phone. "About fifteen seconds ago."
"And you didn't think to MENTION that?!"
"I don't work for you."
Deadpool threw his hands up. "That was my only lead! He was about to tell me—" He whirled on Colossus. "This is YOUR fault! With your dramatic entrance and your—"
Colossus was suddenly right there, massive hand clamping around Deadpool's wrist.
CLICK.
Handcuffs a military-grade, already locked around Deadpool's wrist and Colossus's chrome hand.
Deadpool stared down at it. "Did you just... did you just handcuff us together?"
"You are coming with us." Colossus said firmly. "You need help, training. So you could be hero—"
"I don't WANT to be a hero!" Deadpool yanked at the cuffs. They didn't budge. "Let me GO!"
"Nyet. You come to school and meet Professor Xavier. Learn better way than murder—"
"The better way? FRANCIS TORTURED ME!" Deadpool's voice cracked with rage. "He turned me into THIS! And you want me to what, forgive him? Take the high road?"
"Revenge will not heal you." Colossus said, voice softening.
"Maybe not, but it's all I have GOT!"
Deadpool yanked again. The handcuffs held firm.
He looked at his trapped wrist, at Colossus's immovable chrome arm, at Negasonic watching with detached interest.
Then down at the highway below - a garbage truck passing underneath.
"Okay," Deadpool said quietly. "You made your choice."
"Good. You are seeing reason—"
Deadpool pulled out his knife.
"What are you—NO!" Colossus reached for him.
Too late.
Deadpool jammed the blade into his own wrist, right at the joint where hand met arm, and sawed downward with practiced, horrifying efficiency.
"STOP!" Colossus grabbed for the knife.
Deadpool twisted away, cutting deeper - through tendon, through muscle, scraping against bone.
"WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!" Negasonic finally looked up, eyes wide.
"Problem solving!" Deadpool grunted, sweat pouring down his mask.
Blood sprayed everywhere. Colossus's chrome hand was slick with it.
Deadpool wrenched his wrist sideways, snapping the final connective tissue—
His hand came off.
Still handcuffed to Colossus.
Deadpool held up the bleeding stump, regeneration already beginning. "See? Freedom!"
"You are INSANE!" Colossus stared at the severed hand in his grip, horrified.
"I am MOTIVATED!" Deadpool backed toward the edge of the highway.
"Wade, wait—" Colossus started forward.
"Can't wait! Got a revenge quest! Very time-sensitive!" Deadpool's hand was already regrowing - skeletal fingers pushing through raw flesh. "Thanks for the recruitment pitch though! Really inspiring!"
"You need help!" Colossus called.
"I need FRANCIS!" Deadpool reached the broken guardrail, looked down.
The garbage truck was directly below, moving slowly through traffic.
"When you are ready to stop running—" Colossus began.
"Put it on my vision board!" Deadpool saluted with his regrowing stump. "Nice meeting you, Chrome Dome! And you, Teenage Angst! Let's never do this again!"
He jumped backward off the highway.
"NO!" Colossus rushed to the edge—
Deadpool plummeted thirty feet, landed directly in the open bed of the garbage truck with a wet THUMP, cushioned by bags of trash.
He popped up immediately, waving his half-regenerated hand at them.
"I'M OKAY! MOSTLY! EVERYTHING'S FINE!"
The truck rumbled away into traffic.
….
FLASHBACK: CREATING THE SUIT
SIX MONTHS EARLIER
The screen rippled - flashback within the flashback.
Wade's voice narrated: "So after escaping the Workshop, looking like a burnt chicken nugget, I needed a suit. Something that would hide my disgusting face and also look cool enough that people would take me seriously as a murderer."
Cut to: Wade in Blind Al's apartment, sitting at a sewing machine.
Blind Al sat in a recliner nearby, 'watching' TV. 'What are you doing over there? Sounds like a dying cat."
"I am sewing."
"You? Sewing?"
"I am a man of many talents, Al. Killing, sarcasm, and apparently needlework."
"That machine belonged to my mother. If you break it—"
"I won't break it. Probably."
Montage: Wade creating the Deadpool suit piece by piece. The first version was white - plain, boring, looked like a ninja costume from a Spirit Halloween store.
He tried it on, looked in the mirror. "This looks like shit."
Blind Al: "I can't see it but I believe you."
"It's too white, shows bloodstains too easily. I need something darker."
Next attempt: Black suit. Better, but too generic.
"I look like a goth Spider-Man knockoff."
Third attempt: Red and black.
The mask had white eye patches that looked vaguely like Spider-Man but meaner.
Wade looked in the mirror, turned and checked himself out.
"Okay, this is it. This is the one."
Blind Al: "Does it hide your face?"
"Completely."
"Then I approve. Now get out of my sewing room."
Wade looked at the camera. "See this suit? Cost me $150 in materials and six weeks of work. Compare that to Iron Man who probably spends six million per suit. I am fiscally responsible!"
….
Wade's voiceover continued: "Now, I know what you're thinking. 'Wade, why don't you just talk to Vanessa? Tell her what happened?' And the answer is: have you seen my face? She'd run screaming. Or worse - she would pity me. Can't have that."
Montage set to "Careless Whisper" (the same song from their romance montage, but now creepy):
Wade in the Deadpool suit, watching Vanessa from across the street as she left work.
Wade hid behind a newspaper (with eyeholes cut out) at the coffee shop where she got her morning latte.
Wade on a rooftop across from her apartment, watching her through the window with binoculars as she watched Netflix alone.
"I know this looks creepy. It is creepy. But I couldn't help it. I needed to see her. Make sure she is okay. Even if she would never see me."
One night, Vanessa was walking home from the bar where she worked. A drunk guy started following her, catcalling.
Wade appeared from the shadows behind the guy, tapping his shoulder.
The drunk turned. "What the—"
Deadpool punched him so hard he folded like a lawn chair.
Vanessa spun around - Deadpool was already gone, disappeared into the alley.
She looked around, confused, then kept walking home faster.
From the rooftop above, Wade watched her enter her building safely. "You're welcome."
….
Back to present timeline.
Montage of Deadpool interrogating various criminals:
A arms dealer tied to a chair in a warehouse: "I don't know where Ajax is!"
"Wrong answer." Deadpool held up a blowtorch. "Let's try again. Where. Is. Francis?"
"He moved operations! I swear! After you destroyed the Workshop, he went underground!"
"Where underground?"
"I don't know! He doesn't tell people like me!"
Deadpool sighed, turned off the blowtorch. "Well, this was a waste of time." He shot the guy in the foot. "That's for wasting my evening."
Another scene: Deadpool dangling a hacker over the edge of a building by his ankles.
"WHERE IS FRANCIS?!"
"I DON'T KNOW! I JUST DO HIS WEBSITE MAINTENANCE!"
"He has a website?!"
"YES! FOR RECRUITMENT!"
"What's the URL?!"
"W-W-W-DOT-WORKSHOP-SOLUTIONS-DOT-COM!"
Deadpool pulled him back up. "That's the most generic villain website name I have ever heard. You guys need better branding."
Each interrogation got increasingly absurd but also increasingly violent. Deadpool left a trail of broken bones and terrified criminals across the city.
….
Thomas watched the crowd as much as the screen.
The film students who had been skeptical were leaning forward now, engaged despite themselves.
The action fans were getting exactly what they wanted - brutal, creative fight choreography.
The couple to his left had stopped checking their phones entirely.
Even the gym bros were laughing at the jokes, not just the violence.
Thomas heard someone behind him whisper: "Is this allowed? Can you just... do this in a movie?"
Apparently you could.
The second act dragged slightly - a montage sequence that went on too long, some jokes that didn't land - but the audience stayed with it. They had bought in. They trusted the movie would take them somewhere worth going.
….
Back to present timeline.
Deadpool lay on the couch in Blind Al's apartment, watching his hand grow back. It was the size of a baby's hand - pink, tiny, wiggling its little fingers.
"This is so weird." Deadpool said, wiggling the baby hand. "Look at it, Al. It's adorable."
Blind Al sat in her recliner, facing the TV. "I can't see it."
"Right. Well, it looks like a tiny hand. Very cute. I could do hand puppet shows."
"Please don't."
Deadpool made the baby hand wave. "Hello! I'm Wade's new hand! Nice to meet you!"
"I hate you so much."
"Love you too, roomie."
The baby hand was growing slowly - you could actually see it getting bigger in real-time, bones forming, flesh filling in.
Disgusting and fascinating.
Thomas heard someone in the audience whisper: "That's the grossest thing I have ever seen."
Another person: "I can't look away."
"So." Blind Al said, "Did you find Francis?"
"Almost. Got a lead on the highway. Killed a bunch of his guys. One got away - Bob from Hydra. Nice guy actually, felt bad about shooting him."
"Did you shoot him?"
"Just in the leg. He will walk again. Eventually."
"You're terrible at this revenge thing."
"I am great at this revenge thing! I have killed like thirty people in the last six months!"
"And yet Francis is still alive."
Deadpool's baby hand made a rude gesture at her.
"I saw that." Blind Al lied.
….
Cut to: Sister Margaret's, earlier that day.
A man in an expensive suit entered - clearly out of place among the mercenaries and lowlifes.
He approached the bar where Weasel was serving drinks.
"I am looking for someone." The man placed a photo on the bar—Wade Wilson, pre-disfigurement.
Weasel looked at it. Didn't react. "Never seen him."
"He used to frequent this establishment."
"Lot of people frequent this establishment. I don't keep records."
The man leaned closer. "This is important. The person I work for is very interested in finding Wade Wilson."
One of the regulars - Buck, a massive biker covered in tattoos, appeared beside the suit. "The man said he doesn't know. You deaf?"
Another regular stood up.
Then another.
Suddenly the suit was surrounded by six mercenaries who all looked very willing to commit violence.
The suit raised his hands. "I will go. But if you see him..." He placed a business card on the bar. "Tell him Ajax sends his regards."
He left.
Weasel immediately called Deadpool, then burned the business card with his lighter.
….
Deadpool sat on the couch, examining his hand. It was fully grown now - back to normal size, scarred like the rest of him but functional.
He flexed the fingers, made a fist. "Good as new! Well, as new as a hideously scarred hand can be."
Blind Al: "Your hand grew back and you're still annoying. That's consistent."
"Thank you!"
"That wasn't a compliment."
Deadpool's phone buzzed, text from Weasel: "Guy in a suit was here asking about you, showed a picture. Didn't look friendly."
Deadpool sat up straight. "Shit."
"What?"
"They're looking for me. Ajax's people."
"Well you've been murdering their employees for six months. What did you expect?"
"I expected them to be worse at finding me!" Deadpool grabbed his suit. "I gotta go warn Weasel."
"He already warned you. That's what the text means."
"Oh. Right. Then I gotta go... do something else productive."
He didn't have a plan.
….
Two days later.
Vanessa left work late - midnight shift at the bar.
I walked to her car in the back lot.
She didn't notice the black SUV parked in the shadows or Angel Dust step out until it was too late.
Vanessa spun, reaching for her pepper spray—
Angel Dust moved faster, grabbed her wrist, yanked her forward. Vanessa screamed, tried to fight—
Punched Angel Dust in the face as hard as she could.
Her hand broke.
Angel Dust didn't even flinch. "Nice try, sweetheart."
Chloroform cloth over Vanessa's face.
She struggled, but Angel Dust was impossibly strong. Within seconds, Vanessa went limp.
Ajax stepped out of the SUV. "Put her in the back. Make sure she's secure."
"She's feisty." Angel Dust commented, hauling Vanessa's unconscious body like a sack of potatoes. "Broke her hand punching me."
"Wade Wilson certainly has a type."
They drove away.
Behind them, in the parking lot, Vanessa's phone lay on the ground, cracked screen…
….
Deadpool stood in the parking lot outside Vanessa's work, holding her phone. It was raining - dramatic, cinematic rain that soaked his suit.
He had found it in a puddle, screen cracked. Her purse a few feet away, contents scattered.
Signs of a struggle.
She was gone.
.
….
[To be continued…]
★─────⇌•★•⇋─────★
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