Welcome, one and all, to the latest victim of Dani's Crossover Fever. Today's specimens are one Baxter Stockman and a mister Wade Wilson (Deadpool, for those of you who don't remember).

Because every zombie deserves a healing factor.

Disclaimer: I still don't own the Ninja Turtle franchise and here is my first official Marvel disclaimer. The entire company is laughing at me right now, glad that I am not in possession of such copyrights.

"And I can- finally, after all this time- no one will ever use me again...I'm FREE!" Stockman said triumphantly, throwing his arms wide in his joy. "Mama, I'm free!"

Plop.

"I think you dropped a bit of your liver on the table there," the masked man supplied helpfully. "Might want to pick that up."

"I've accomplished what no other scientist could do so much as dream of! No more humiliating dismemberment! With this incredible rate of cell regeneration, I'll have my body back and my sanity intact!"

"No, really- liver on the table. I think it counts as dumping toxic material when you're a zombie."

"All those years slaving away for Bishop and Saki, all the government funding I received, and the solution was so simple! Right in front of me, all along!"

Deadpool shifted against the examination table. "You ARE a zombie, right? I think it's a technicality, but you sure look dead. Course, that makes ME a technical zombie, too. Pretty poor working conditions, don't you agree?"

"And now I can finally get the acknowledgment I deserve! One step closer to immortality! I'll be legendary!"

"Great! Then you can fund my Technical Zombie Worker's Union. We get maternity leave or no dice."

The technical zombie in question snarled. "Will you be silent, you bumbling fool! I can't enjoy the fruits of my labor with you constantly running your mouth!"

"'Merc With A Mouth,' remember? It's me talking that sells the issues. Or really it's me shooting things that sells. We're waiting for the polls to get back."

"You're absolutely mad!"

"And you've been raping your punctuation keys. Doesn't feel very nice, now does it?"

"Don't make me remove your vocal chords!"

"You shouldn't speak in italics so often, it'll make your throat crooked."

"Insufferable idiot! That's it!"

Slice. Thump.

"You know that's going to grow back, right? Ah, see, there it goes."

"Shut up! Just shut up!"

"I feel it's only fair to warn you that your boss will probably just find dismembering you to be even more fun for the whole family."

Schoom. Splat.

"See? Even you can't resist."

Sploosh.

"I'm like a can of Pringles. Speaking of which, do you happen to carry snack foods in this evil lair?"

"Shut your godforsaken trap and let me finish my work!"

"Say please."

"What? No! I am the scientist and you are my captive- if anything, you should be the one begging!"

"...you really need to consult your writers. You're so loud."

Stockman decided that it would be best to continue in another room.

And that was the end of that...rather pointless endeavor.