Chapter One

New York City

November 7, 2012

11:55

Man, some days, I just feel like nothing is going my way. You know the type of days I'm talking about…A typical Monday in which you can't help but fight a gigantic four-armed dinosaur that's trying to be menacing, but really feels like a Godzilla rip-off a little far from home. Yeah, it feels like a Monday, for sure.

The name's Wade Wilson. Or as you might know me, That One Guy With the Red And Black Sock on His Head: Deadpool. I'm a mercenary, and that means I don't have a boss. I just work for the people who have the most moolah. And that's just the way I like it...Anyway, where was I...Oh, yeah! Monday!

But this "typical" Monday was about to get a little more interesting than that. See, a guy like me – smart, handsome, devilish, and able to take one hell of a wallop – isn't exactly on the best of terms with any hero types. So when I came bursting through the belly of the beast (Quite literally, might I add) and was met with the sounds of terror and vomiting, I briefly wondered what my super special "team-up-of-the-day" buddy had to say.

"Speak of this misadventure, and your face shall feel Mjolnir's kiss. Understand?" he boomed. I always wondered why gods had to boom when they spoke. Must be an ego thing.

"Yep. No blabbing, blogging, or tweeting about our marvelous team-up," I said, turning to greet the God of Thunder. He simply stared back at me and started to swing his hammer in large, circular motions. Yep. Definitely an ego thing.

"We did not team up..." he grumbled, jabbing a finger into my already injured shoulder.

"You got it, partner." I would've grinned, but you know...I have the whole "full face mask" thing going on. I turned to leave, but was interrupted by some guy who owned a nearby shop shouting and waving a broom at me. I'm sure he was saying something about me not being able to just leave a giant, disemboweled dead lizard in the middle of the road, but I wasn't really paying attention. I was more concerned with the fact that he brought a broom to the scene. Did he think it would help? Sometimes, I just don't get people...

"Just roll Deadzilla to the curb. I'm sure some hobo will eat it," I said with the dismissive wave of my hand. Before I could say anything else, something further up the street put the people into another frenzied panic.

I stumbled in the opposite direction of where people where running. Speaking strictly from experience, if you wanna find the source of the trouble, drive down the wrong side of the highway. Or something...I don't know, my analogies were never very good.

A little ways further up the street, a police officer was directing the people away. As soon as he laid his eyes on me, he gasped.

"Buddy, we've got to get you some help!" He said it as if he didn't know about me and my healing factor. Tch...Amateur.

"Are you hitting on me, Captain Porn-Stache? I'll be fine in a minute," I said, eying the suspiciously well-groomed mustache officer. Then, after some deliberation, I decided to divulge my secret to him.

"You see, I was once at death's door. But science and the kind folk in the Canadian Government gave me a new immune system, allowing me to heal myself from anything."

The officer's mouth fell agape as I fiddled with my small intestine.

"Who says Government Health Care is bad? I wish I was you!" He exclaimed excitedly. Oh, if he only knew...

"Yeah, but the procedure left me with a little skin problem..." I promptly turned and vomited on the ground at my feet. I don't remember eating THAT recently...Huh...

The officer looked skeptical, "Oh, come on. How bad can it be?" He said, reaching a hand out to steady me. I turned to face him, and his eyes widened. A usual reaction, if I'm honest.

I had a skin condition. Or rather, I had almost no skin to have a condition for. My whole body was covered in patches of flesh, with exposed muscles poking out here and there. It didn't hurt, and it made for a killer Halloween when I could just go out with jeans and no shirt and be a dead ringer for a zombie...Heh...Dead ringer...

"Yeah, you're right! Life is beautiful!" I said, grinning with what mouth I had. It'll come back soon enough.

And then I heard it. A simple shout that started this whole mess. Well, "simple" really isn't the word for it...

"That's right! Run! You knickerbockers still treat this city like your private chamber pot! I, Franklin Delano Roosevelt, will clean up this city if I must do it single-handledly!"

...A former president. A dead former president. A dead former president rolling down the streets of New York in a wheelchair...I really hate Mondays...