capeandcowllogs | I want to kill everybody in the world (o-e-o-e-o) I want to eat your heart

Entry tags:

I want to kill everybody in the world (o-e-o-e-o) I want to eat your heart

WHO:

precalculate
WHERE: Arcade's MAC apartment
WHEN: Soon after Deadpool's conversation with Arcade
WARNINGS: PG...13? ish. Nothing foreseeably hideous beyond who they naturally are....
SUMMARY: ~~Two assassins walk into a bar... kill me if you've heard this one before~~ Deadpool stops by Arcade's apartment, because he wants him to fix his thingy with nerd science, which is of course the best kind of science.
FORMAT: I'm easy! Starting prose.

He could write a book about this. He'd title it Mad Science on a Budget. Before he'd hit the City he'd never been sans funds, but his natural inclination towards incredible genius (if he did say so himself) stepped up to the plate to help him out and he was now cannibalizing technology, bits of this to make that, soldering and so on.

And taking the odd assassination job. It was almost fun.

Not as fun as certain playpens that started with M and ended with Urderworld, but for now he could make do.

Deadpool, though. Deadpool, Deadpool, Deadpool. No matter how much he strained, his brain was refusing stubbornly to give up the deets--the where and when and whys of their conflab. He remembered that they'd had one, and could remember the equivalent of an itch in his brain as the cause of it, but beyond that he was helpless.

And he wasn't holding his breath to get an answer out of Wade. The red fool, the crimson clown. The alarmingly capable crazy whatsit even with a healing factor.

Boy, he liked healing factors. Kept the game interesting for longer, they could make more mistakes and still come out winners.

Sweeping some crap off the table (mostly robot hands and shopping lists, and his comm device), he wandered over to the kitchen, securing cookies and coffee, missing Locke more and more with every independent step he had to take to get something as simple as food for his...guest.

"Wow, that's weird. I can't remember the last time I had a guest voluntarily drop by. --He better not be late!"

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

So Deadpool is a little late. It's totally not his fault! He was so determined to make the best most flashy entrance ever for his first meeting with that one dweeb he made into a pinata while totally shitfaced that one time, and what better way to do it than to crash through the apartment's window at the end of a grappling line?

Unfortunately, he got a bit sidetracked when he accidentally smashed the windows out of two of the wrong apartments, but that's totally just a minor detail. It's really hard to be precise with a grappling gun, alright? It's not like they post the apartment numbers on the outside of the building.

Either way, since third time's the charm, the only warning that Arcade will get before Deadpool's arrival is the muted sing-song bellow from outside the window that starts far off and rapidly gets closer; "♫George, George, George of the Jungle.. watch out for that♬--" CRASH, shatter, thump: Wade tucks and rolls when he hits the kitchen tile and springs back to his feet, hands thrown up into the air in exuberant triumph. "TREE!"

This is the right apartment, right?

Hey look, Arcade. With cookies!! Aww, Deadpool knew he liked the little guy for a reason! He casually leans against the counter, ignoring the glass shards poking out of his costume and littering the floor and underwhelming his entire over the top entrance by just nodding in greeting. "Hey, Arcade. Are those for me?"

"Now that's an entrance!" Though admittedly Arcade had ducked back behind the kitchen counter with half his body hoping to be shielded from the worst of what he initially thought (hoped?) was a missile. Course, it wasn't his birthday, so he wasn't expecting any presents, but it never hurt to be prepared.

"I can see why you kept me waiting." Arcade put the plate of cookies down on the counter, brushing glass out of his insanely red hair and reached out fastidiously to pick one specific glass shard out of Deadpool's face. "Sure, help yourself. We've got a lot to discuss, ain't we, you and me. And keep those hands where I can see them, okay?"

That last was only partly a joke. Deadpool was hazardous business, and Arcade wouldn't have it any other way.

"It felt necessary." Wade tugs his mask up to his nose as he sliiides over to the cookie plate, wiggling his fingers in clear view to demonstrate that he's totes being a good boy before snagging one off the plate.

"Yeah, doc, I need you to take a look at my, uh--" he chews and swallows and frowns uncomfortably, like he's concentrating oh so hard. "My- my-- Uhh. Well I can't get Weas to touch it, something about that time I forgot I locked him in The Box for like a week or whatever, he's so unreasonable sometimes, but it's been broken forever and I just want to be able to use it again..." And then he pops the rest of the cookie into his mouth so both hands are free and reaches down towards his crotch-

Oh god and now he's unhooking his belt and-- handing... it over?

"Teleporter! That's the word." Totes ~innocent~ smile after he finishes chewing. "Don't you just hate when that happens? It's like right at the tip of your tongue and you can't get it to come out."

"Careful! You'll show me your secret identity." Arcade put a hand to his chin, and then his expression froze in a fixed smile not unlike a small fluffy woodland animal freezing in the glare of headlights. On automatic, relieved, his thin hands come out to accept the gift--thinking it might just be rigged to explode was still preferable to thinking--whatever Deadpool was just making him think. Probably trying to throw him off, yeah, that was it. Definitely.

That wasn't some flirty threat, he was sure. It was like, psychological carpet-bombing.

There was a deadly genius in Deadpool's brain, timesharing carefully with his harmless zaniness. In a way, it was like looking into a funhouse mirror that made one buff and cancerous.

"Happens to me all the time," He said absently, turning the belt over in his hands, "Gets stuck, I give it a good whack and the floodgates usually open." He grin briefly flashed his canines, then he was taking the teleporter belt over to the coffee table and prying it open to get a look inside, "Oho. This is fantastic. I mean, really. I couldn't do better in terms of oomph-per-cubic-inch. Stylistically it's pretty egotistical--hah! But I can talk."

A pause, looking up from under that sweep of carrot-topped wave with crinkled baby blues. "And you promise me chaos and mayhem in return; I want at least a half-hour out of you. Swords, guns, liberal use of your singular talent for monologuing. I'll be taping everything."

"Yeah, good 'ol Weas." Deadpool snags another cookie and eats it while Arcade is busy geeking out. He's totally not even going to comment on what just transpired between them.

That would ruin the moment.

"Why, Cadesterooni, that almost sounds dirty." Oh wait, he's ruining it anyway. Because he's Deadpool. There's a flash of a grin forming before Wade's face disappears beneath the mask again, and the merc props his chin on his hand when he's done tucking it beneath his collar. "Do you think you can keep me occupado for 30 minutes?"

After a split second of consideration he points with his pinky towards the belt in Arcade's hands. "Give me a day or two with that to make sure it works and you're not screwing me, and I'll give you your half hour." Not that I'm gonna use it to steal or anything, I'm a hero now. "I'm gonna rob the poop out of a military base somewhere."

A beat. "DAMNIT, BRAIN, WRONG ORDER." Don't judge, okay? He can't afford to buy off any market until he makes himself a reputation or some cash.

Edited 2011-09-10 05:53 (UTC)

"Scandalous!" His eyes darted up, to one side, watching, cagey, "Get your mind out of the gutter for a second." He was taking the device apart wholesale by now, with a screwdriver and needle-nose pliers and the weird self-assurance that comes with being ridiculously smart to the point of practicing supervillain inanity.

"I ran Spider-Man through his paces with the good Cap'n for about that, it's my yardstick these days. Unless you're telling me you're also amazing or spectacular or something like that... I haven't heard anything about super strength, just uncanny luck and brain-damaged persistence."

He was almost serene, kneeling there in front of the table listening intently, then rolling his shoulders and sniggering a bit that he'd blurted that. "What were you supposed to say instead? 'I promise I won't do anything to land me in jail before you can take your pound of regenerating flesh'? You don't have to worry, Deads. I always collect."

Arcade crooked a finger in invitation to the couch across from the table--which had a half built android of a female with a shitton of weird complicated looking machinery inside and an arm off. "G'wan and sit if you're stayin', make yourself comfy. I had a few questions to ask you besides, unless you've got somewhere to be."

"I dunno, but I'm bound to be. You know how many #$@%in' titles I've got out right now?" If there's not an Spectacular Deadpool in there somewhere, he's going to be so disappoint.

A sigh. "Yeah, pretty much- wait, hey! I always pay up!" A beat. "Well, most of the time, anyway. Usually. Ehh-- maybe half-and-half. I mean, if I can't think up a way to swindle you out of your money and my time first, I always do it." Wait, he should probably amend that if he wants Arcade to put his teleporter back together in any semblance of working order. "I'll settle up with you because I'm fond of your big stupid bowtie, though. And your robots." He nods, satisfied (even though that train of thought ultimately led absolutely nowhere), and then slides right over the side of the table like it's the hood of a car and he's in the Dukes of Hazard, for some reason. He flops down into the couch with a 'wumph!' and dutifully crosses his legs.

"Nahhh." Wade gives the android a sideways glance before oh-so-subtly throwing an arm up over the back of the couch just behind her. Aww yeah. No halfway-built girl-bot can resist his wily charms! "I cleared my whole schedule tonight just for you, Arcadesy."

His whole schedule of sitting in his MAC Apartment and eating cheetos, he means.

He was just going to ignore that first part because what, seriously...

"I know I can trust you!" He was quick to reassure. The quickest, even. "And if something happens beyond your control, you could always leave your bank account number with me for safekeeping." It probably wouldn't work.

He gestured to the 'bot casually. "I haven't decided if that's going to be Locke, Rogue, Kitty or someone else..."

Oh, and questions. "Is there anyone here you know from home who doesn't want to kill you right now?"

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

I want to kill everybody in the world (o-e-o-e-o) I want to eat your heart

I'M NOT LATE AT ALL

;-; only in the fashionable sense son

C: dp is the king of fashionable sense

ndsjkfg I don't dare ask who the queen is...

DP IS ALSO THE QUEEN YOU FOOL

IF YOU EDIT THIS ONE MORE TIME I'LL STAGE A PEASANT UPRISING

i staged a peasant uprising in ur mom last night c:

DLFKgndgfjkn gdi I lol'd