"Where will you go, youngster?"

Deadpool's empty gaze stared directly into the bespectacled eyes of Professor Elvin Gadd.

"Where will I go?" Deadpool paraphrased. "What does that mean? There's the mansion, which holds my only hopes of getting the hit I was hired for and the money I deserve, or there's your crappy art museum. Where the hell else would I go?"

"There's always the training room!" Gadd interjected.

"The room where you stick me in with eleven ghosts that escaped and you force me to get them back?"

Gadd nodded.

Palm meeting face, Deadpool tromped back to the mansion. Turning on his flashlight, he entered the foyer once again.

Oh hey, you're back!

"Voices in my head already," Deadpool noted to a non-existent audience. "No wonder the mansion's deserted."

So you're ready for another go at the mansion, eh? Knocking out ghosts side by side, giving 'em hell in the afterlife! You and me, Deadpool. Brothers in arms. Strength and strategy. Biscuits and gra-

"I get it," Deadpool interrupted. "Look, there's one thing we've gotta settle before we continue, and that's a name."

A name? Deadpool, listen to me. I'm a voice in your head. Naming me will simply increase your worries about how you're going to escape with your sanity.

"I didn't enter with any. Just give me your answer," Deadpool sighed. "My trigger finger's getting itchy.

All right… you can call me Fackmage.

A brief moment of silence was interrupted by an extremely heavy sigh from the crimson comedian.

I warned you.

"All right, so the name wasn't a good idea. Neither was taking up a hit job in a mansion, of course, but anything to pay for the chimichangas nowadays."

I'll agree to that.

"So how much is left?"

The mansion itself has four floors. We've scoured the second for all it's worth, so it's time to investigate the first.

"Sounds good."

You can enter right through that door, assuming you got the key from the nursery.

From behind the mask, a look of utter dread crossed Deadpool's tumor-covered face.

…Please, please don't tell me you forgot the key.

"I was in a rush! There were multiple voices! And then the Game Boy and the vacuum and…"

Look, just get the key.

Deadpool gave a slight nod, and put his hands on his hips. With a cry of "BAMF!" he disappeared from view, only to reappear a few moments later with a pink key in hand, its heart-shaped handle glistening from the chandelier.

"This is the gayest key I have ever seen," Deadpool muttered before tossing it at the locked door. The thistles surrounding it dissipated, the lock breaking with a not-so-satisfying crunch.

There's the first floor. We're making progress.

"That can wait. For now, let's just get go-"

Deadpool's words were interrupted by the appearance of a floating candelabra.

"No… no, not you!"

What is it?

"It's my first bounty, back when I was still Kidpool! I stole it from some snob, but I sold it for enchilada money… and now it's going to take its revenge on me!"

Oh, sure. You laugh at my name, but a floating candlestick comes along, and you're suddenly not so tough, now are you?

Ignoring the insults from his mind, Deadpool scampered across the corridor, toying with every door he could find. Finally, he located one without a lock, and entered it immediately.

Unfortunately, it was not the best room he could have hoped for.

"The bathroom?"

The bathroom. If there was any time to remove the excretion from your outfit, now would be a good time.

"Oh, shut up."

As soon as Fackmage zipped his non-existent lips, a white ghost emerged from the bathtub. Approaching Deadpool slowly, it wrapped its arms around the mercenary.

"Hold it, hold it! Bullets and fists can't hurt ghosts, but if one wants to grab hold of me, that's just a-okay? Who came up with this crap, the Japanese?"

Now would be a good time to pull out the vacuum instead of getting yourself in even more trouble.

With a familiar glimmer of antiheroism in his masked eyes, Deadpool whipped out the vacuum, sucking up the ghost among the few others that had joined it.

Figures that you'd rely on something that can only suck and blow…

"…Aren't I supposed to be the smart-aleck here?" Deadpool asked the invisible crowd once more before plucking a key from a high shelf.

After another run-in with the floating candlestick ("Get out of my nightmares!"), Deadpool found himself in a low-lit ballroom. Masked ghosts holding spears engaged in a tribal dance of sorts in a small circle.

"Now logic would denote that the spear is merely a ghost spear, since ghosts can hold them," Deadpool theorized before being prodded from the edge of one. "Logic would also denote that they would affect the ghosts." Stealing a spear, he thrusted it into an eye socket of the ghost. No effect.

Just goes to show how you can never rely on logic.

"Hope you've learned an important lesson today, kids!"

A brief vacuuming session later, another ghostly couple began to dance.

"Oh, how drab. Costume parties are so overrated nowadays," the male ghost commented.

"Indeed. Stick to your storybooks, hon," his partner added.

Seething in rage, Deadpool stormed up to the dancing couple.

"I TOLD YOU, MOM, THEY'RE COMIC BOOOOOOOKS!"

With the nerdiest battle cry ever given, Deadpool sucked the couple up in one fell swoop, helping himself to the several pearls that exited their body.

I'm not sure if I should be impressed or distressed. I think I'll stick with neutral, if that's all right.

"Looks like I'm dancing on my own," Deadpool quipped, Fackmage giving a groan of unhappiness.

Opening the nearby door, Deadpool was unimpressed by the large stack of boxes and the lackluster ghosts.

What did catch his eye, however, was a nearby switch.

Don't touch that.

"You can't tell me what to do!"

No, I mean do not touch that. Fifty-one of the strongest ghosts in history are in there. Letting them go is the wrong idea.

Measuring out the consequences and deciding on a final choice of "I don't give a crap," Deadpool whacked the switch. The left wall moved out of the way, revealing… another switch.

Okay, then at least don't touch this one.

Unfortunately, Fackmage finished his sentence a few seconds after the switch had already been hit. An unseen grating opened from the floor, with tens of white ghosts flying out, cackling with glee. Deadpool, however, had prepared for this occasion, and had the vacuum cleaner at the ready. On its highest setting, thirty-five of the ghosts were caught in one blow.

"Hee hee hee… don't count us out just yet, red!" a ghost called out, noteworthy for the jeweled crown resting on his head. "You'll never take us all out!"

With one final cackle, the ghost flew off to an unseen room.

"…What just happened?" Deadpool asked, having caught up with his senses.

I warned you, man. Now sixteen of those Boos are still here in the mansion, including their leader.

"You mean the one with the jewel?"

Yeah, the King Boo. He's probably the one who hired you, all for his escape plan.

"That conniving little… wait, they're booze?"

Boos.

"Yeah, booze. So why aren't they all drunk as hell right now?"

It's Boos, not booze! Boos!

"…Man, now I have to go to the bathroom."

We were just there!

"But I didn't have to go then!"

A faint buzzing interrupted the one-man argument.

"Youngster, you there?" E. Gadd asked through the Game Boy Horror. "You've just let loose the Boos!"

"Gaaaaaaaaah! Stop saying that!" Deadpool said, tossing the system to the ground and running to the nearest lavatory.

Another run-in with the candlestick notwithstanding, the sprint was unexciting. When Deadpool entered, however, he found himself face-to-face with the loyal Mushroom Retainer.

"Didn't I eat you? Like, twice?" Deadpool asked, scratching his head.

"Sniff… I dropped something REALLY important in the toilet…" Toad whined, apparently not hearing the merc's comment.

One gobbling later, Deadpool finally relieved himself. Looking down at the mess he made, he was surprised to find…

"Oh, God."

A key?

"A key."

Was it there before or after you did your business?

"…Oh, double God."

Pulling out a pair of pliers from seemingly nowhere, Deadpool held his already-covered nose as he picked up the key. Fackmage led him to his next destination, the candelabra not in sight.

Entering the room (and quickly disposing of the piss-riddled key), Deadpool took note of a crystal ball in the middle of the room. Paying it no mind, he marched into the next room.

It took the crimson comedian a minute to gather himself.

"This room… is amazing!"

It's a mirror.

"Finally, a room filled with nothing but me in it!" Deadpool cheered, approaching his reflection for a hug.

The embrace was interrupted, however, by another one.

"Fackmage, I don't love you like that, bro…"

It's not me! Look at the mirror!

Deadpool complied. There stood a tall, handsome mercenary, with glistening muscles, a devil-may-care look in the eyes, and a supermodel on each arm.

Turn off the imagination filter…

Deadpool complied. There stood a tall, handsome mercenary, with glistening muscles, a devil-may-care look in the eyes, and a ghost with its hands dangerously close to his crotch.

"Invisible rapists! The worst possible kind…" Deadpool shuddered before sucking up the specter, alongside the few others that were creeping around.

As the lights turned on, a large box appeared in the middle of the room.

"That one I can touch?"

Yeah, it's all yours.

"You sure? No booby traps? No pie to the face?"

Never thought you could be more paranoid than you already were, Deadpool. You're always full of surprises.

To translate into what Deadpool heard: "Open the box!"

With a heave, the box was opened. Within laid a small, red medallion with an image of a flame.

"You there, youngster?" E. Gadd's voice was heard again, the Game Boy Horror rematerializing in his pocket.

"Yeah, I'm here."

"That's the Fire Element, son. That Poltergust of yours can now shoot out fire whenever you please!"

"I already have a flamethrower."

As Gadd shook a stubby fist in anger on the screen, Deadpool tossed the Game Boy Horror to the side once again.

So now what?

"Now, I conquer my fear."

Stomping through the mirror room and fortune-teller's room, Deadpool stopped in front of the floating candelabra.

"Leave me alone!" Deadpool cried out before setting the wicks alight.

In the newly exposed light stood a tuxedo-wearing ghost, meekly holding the stick in his hand.

"…So, you're not a floating candlestick?"

The butler shook his head.

"Well, this'll be great fun to tell my therapist."

He's getting away! After him!

Giving chase, Deadpool raced through the corridors once again, finding himself in a small room with a washing machine.

"Well, I guess I could wash my soiled suit," Deadpool muttered before tossing himself into the machine. Twenty minutes later, he hopped back out, squeaky clean.

You got something on your person, there.

Deadpool tugged away at a loose thread, which belonged to…

"A hat?"

A hat.

"Okay, so now I have a hat."

Will that stop the butler?

"CHEESE IT, THE BUTLER!"

Practically tripping into the next room, Deadpool arrived in time to see the butler seat himself down.

"Prepare to be served, butler!" Deadpool cried out in (feigned?) agony as the vacuum absorbed the well-dressed ghost.

Wasn't that just a little overkill?

"Butlers are bad medicine. You should know this by now!"

All right.

Oh look, a hole in the wall.

"Don't sing it."

I'm gonna sing it.

"Don't you dare sing it, I swear…"

Deadpool's going through the hole in the wall, the hole in the wall, the hole in the-

Fackmage could not finish his song, as Deadpool had escaped already through the same hole.

The mercenary was faced with a room filled to the brim with golden treasure chests and goblets. Even the walls seemed to sparkle with the very essence of…

"Paydirt!" Deadpool cried out in the same glee as he did when he entered the mirror room.


The hidden room having been emptied of its treasure, Deadpool boldly maneuvered his way through the corridors due to the lack of a floating candlestick.

After choosing the correct door (here meaning "not locked"), the crimson comedian was interrupted by an all-too-familiar urge.

"I've gotta hump these instruments," he boldly declared, before sticking his groin into a xylophone.

Several instruments later, a piano melody accompanied the harp, drums, and other instruments that had been tainted by a cancerous crotch. The tune was familiar to Deadpool's ears, to the extent that he could hum an unheard lyrical part that made sense, but the words escaped him.

"Would you like to hear another?" a voice asked.

Turning to the piano, Deadpool noticed a young ghost girl tickling the ivories. Before he could respond, the girl played a soothing tune that practically lulled him to sleep.

Oh, no…

At that moment, the tempo spiked dramatically, with piano sheets flying towards the sleeping merc's head.

Get up, get up, get up, get up, get up…

The sheets neared.

Getupgetupgetup…

Nearer.

Paper cuts!

"PAPER CUTS!"

Deadpool leaped out of the way, sucking up the ghost in mid-jump before landing on his feet in a ridiculous, yet completely awesome fashion.

High five.

"If only."

After a bit more pointless wandering, Deadpool found himself in a well-decorated dining room. The ever-familiar sound of ravenous eating echoed throughout the room, coming from a small pile of gelatin in the middle of the room.

Please don't try to make sense of this as well.

"But that's the thing! Is it real gelatin being eaten by a ghost, or is it-"

Well, you can suck it up, so it's probably just the ghost of gelatin.

"Gelatin has a soul?"

Would you just suck it up already?

Pulling out the vacuum once again, the crimson comedian managed to rid of around half of the gelatin before slow-moving ghost butlers floated in, carrying trays with more gelatin.

"Damn it, the butler's got family!" Deadpool recognized before sucking them up. The rest of the gelatin soon followed.

"WHO TOUCHED MY FOOD?"

Deadpool looked up to see an obese ghost with a bib, looking very frustrated.

"YOU TOUCHED MY FOOD?"

"No, I didn't touch the food at all. I sucked it up, but I didn't lay a finger on it!"

"SO YOU TOUCHED MY FOOD?"

I don't like where this is going.

"Neither do I."

"YOU TOUCHED MY FOOD!"

In a fit of heartburn and rage combined, the fat ghost spat out countless fireballs at the mercenary, whose incredibly fast reflexes had him moonwalking out of the way in record time.

Around fifteen fireballs later, the fat ghost paused to take a well-deserved breather.

So you're going to suck him up now?

"Nah, this has been too easy. I'll give him a break."

…Wait, are you serious?

"Of course not!"

In record time, Deadpool sucked up the ghost, whose efforts to swim away from the stream were unsuccessful.

Upon his disappearance, a small box appeared in the middle of the room.

"Oh, not another circle," Deadpool muttered before dry-humping it open.

Countless coins, bills, bars of gold, and jewels shot out.

One playing in his newly found riches later, Deadpool wandered into the next room.

"Oooh, something's cooking! Finally, a decent chimichanga," Deadpool said, jogging towards the smell of smoke.

If Deadpool was smiling, he wasn't anymore.

"The… door…"

Door's on fire.

"I know that, I know that."

You going to do anything about it?

"Well, I guess I could cook a chimichanga over this."

Or you could just, y'know, use the oven. This is the kitchen.

"But it's haunted and shit, isn't it?"

Fackmage did not respond. If he had a face to slap, it was probably slapped.

Deadpool sucked up the ghosts, of course, though the fire did not go out. However, another box emerged.

"Finally, more money!" Deadpool said with girlish glee.

The box, unfortunately, held another circle.

"Youngster! It's the Water Element! Now you can shoot water out of the vacuum of yours!" Gadd said through the (somehow still present) Game Boy Horror.

"And what if I just used a hose? Or a water gun?" Deadpool replied, before tossing the system into the fire.

After making sure it was completely destroyed, the fire was doused with the newly found water from a vacuum cleaner.

Well, that wasn't that hard!

"Where were you during the conversation with the old guy?"

Fackmage remained quiet. Again.

Through the door led to a lovely garden, albeit there was very little in the form of flora, save for a solitary seed.

So, you're going to water that, then?

"Water what now?"

The plant, Deadpool. There's a plant over there that could use some water.

"Nah, I bypassed that merit badge for one in kicking ass."

There's money involved, but only if you water it exactly as I say.

With a raised eyebrow, Deadpool followed Fackmage's instructions, accidentally filling a nearby water bowl.

"Arf arf!"

A ghost dog had emerged to drink from the bowl, though it seemed he was mainly hungry for one of Deadpool's legs.

Through either sheer coincidence or simply being a badass, Deadpool avoided all of the dog's charges, though his barking summoned a skeleton from underneath the soil.

"Fer the luvva dirt, get that dog to shut his yap!" the skeleton commanded. Deadpool chose to ignore the vacuum, preferring to deliver an uppercut to its skull. The skeleton fell to pieces, leaving several bones in its wake.

With a happy bark, the dog began licking at the bone buffet, fortunately just as the seed had sprouted into a healthy stem.

That's enough for now.

"But it's not even a flower!"

Yes, but you've forgotten one major step in the process.

"Being?"

Being screw you, that's what!

Deadpool held back a laugh as he sucked up the dog, the mercenary just noticing his presence.

Once the dog had disappeared, a sparkling emerged from his former doghouse.

Betcha a dollar you wouldn't go in there.

Before Fackmage had even completed his sentence, Deadpool had dove into the house, popping up in a cemetery. Several tombstones were placed sporadically in the graveyard, though each one did not have a name, nor the traditional "R. I. P." marking.

"Ha! I win!"

Yes, but I don't have a dollar. I'm a voice in your head, after all.

Deadpool would have made a witty remark if a bolt of lightning did not strike the largest of the tombstones, interrupting his train of bizarre thoughts.

From beneath the grave rose a purple ghost, seemingly made of shadows. His depressing gaze pierced into Deadpool's soul (assuming he didn't already sell it for a chimichanga or two), and the world around the mercenary disappeared.

When it returned, it was a battlefield of sorts, with only the purple ghost and the mercenary within.

Without even an evil laugh, the ghost had split himself apart, forming several shadowy copies of himself.

"Um… Fackmage?"

No response.

With the slightest bit of hesitation, Deadpool sucked up one of the ghosts that surrounded him. It was a shadow, clogging up the vacuum.

In desperation, the mercenary shot it out at another ghost.

Fortunately, the target was the actual ghost, who became dizzy after being whacked with one of his clones, giving Deadpool an opportunity to suck him up.

Unfortunately, the ghost had escaped, leaving more shadows in his wake. Lightning bolts shot down from the heavens to target the mercenary, each one exposing a newly formed shadow.

One more shadow was sucked up and shot, though the ghost managed to escape the crimson comedian's shots more often than he'd prefer. The third shot, however, did hit the ghost, who once again fell over in exhaustion.

One last suction did him in, and the battlefield dissipated, revealing the graveyard once again.

You all right?

"Yeah, I'm good. But what happened to you?"

I guess I wasn't able to reach you. I think I can only talk to you when you're in the mansion itself, so you must have been sent away from it.

Deadpool yawned.

Look, the point is, you beat up another ghost, and that's always cool. So reward yourself with the key, and we can get out of here.

"There's a key?"

Indeed, yet another chest had emerged following the shadow ghost's defeat, revealing another shining key. After admiring his reflection for a while, Deadpool shook himself back into his warped reality, and ran back to the mansion's entrance.


Author's Note: Two weeks.

I thank you for reading.