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capeandcowllogs2011-09-07 06:16 pm
precalculate.livejournal.com) wrote in capeandcowllogs2011-09-07 06:16 pm
Entry tags:
I want to kill everybody in the world (o-e-o-e-o) I want to eat your heart
WHO: ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
themouthymerc meets 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!"
themouthymerc meets 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:
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!"
i staged a peasant uprising in ur mom last night c:
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.
DLFKgndgfjkn gdi I lol'd
"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?"