own nothing but the Character Bell, and the plot line.
He was quick to remove his mask, as he splashed cold water from the sink on his scarred face. Rubbing vigorously at his eyes, he grabbed the dish soap and squeezed a glob of the blue liquid into his hands. He scrubbed once more, but it didn't take but a few seconds for his pain to intensify as he groaned.
He washed his eyes out once more with the cold water.
Ballerinas are dangerous.
I think you made us go blind, idiot.
When he opened his eyes, everything was beyond blurry. He blinked a few times in the attempt to clear his vision.
"WADE WINSTON WILSON! YOU'RE SO DEAD!" Bell's voice echoed from her bedroom causing the said mutant to frown. Of course, he's dead; he is deadpool after all.
That's not how we got our name.
Yes, it is. We died saving the damsel in distress, Bell, from those Super Skrulls.
We didn't know Bell when that happened, she wasn't even there. And we aren't dead, we healed all of our injuries; because we are just that awesome.
Whatever.
Jerking on his mask, he walked into the bedroom to see Bell wearing tight black pants and crisp white shirt.
How can she get hotter?
This is Bell we are speaking of.
The only thing that could have been better about the view, was the fact that Bell had on her 'scary' face.
"What did you do?" She seethed pointing to what use to be the wall. However, it seemed to have turned into a puddle of goo.
Huh. Make sure to write down how to make that, we can use it on missions.
No. Bombs are what's banging. If there is no 'BOOOOOOOOMMMMMM', it's no fun.
"I cleaned." Was the only thing he could think of with the two idiots in his head rambling on.
You just called yourself idiot.
Thank you.
"What did you use?! Acid? Your cooking?"
Our cooking isn't that bad?
"Beer, baking soda, and bleach."
"Why would you use that on a wall?" She frowned.
"Babe, why not? That's the question to this story."
"What story?" She questioned as her eyebrows furrowed together, her pout causing her bottom lip to push out. Deadpool blinked.
How does she do that?
You mean give us the nauseating feeling in the pit of stomach that makes us want to run?
Pfffttt. No. Make her eyes so big without popping them like fireworks.
Fireworks don't 'pop', they go 'boom'.
Shut up, they do in this story!
"Well...uhh...nevermind." He mumbled as he rubbed the back of his head, unable to recall what he was going to say.
Her hotness is her super power: the ability to make sensible men, like me, into mindless freaks.
I'm a freak, but I have a mind.
...okay.
"Can I have chimichangas now? Pretty pleeeeaaaaaaaaaassseee! I was a goof boy!" He begged as he clasped his hands together.
What are you doing, author?! Quite making us look stupid in front of Bell! Its good, not 'goof'.
Quite yelling, your going to make her write the story where we can't date Isabella! Then we are screwed.
She wouldn't be that mean.
-.-' Yes, she would.
Bell fought off the smile that wanted to crawl onto her face, but she couldn't hold back the giggle as it escaped from her lips. She shook her head as she patted the top of Deadpools.
"Yeah, you are a 'goof' boy, I suppose. I have a job today, so I won't be able to stay long." She went ahead and explained as she made up her bed.
"How long do you think you'll be?"
Awe, we won't be able to play...
She wouldn't play with us anyway. Besides, what is this 'job' about?
"Why? Are ya going to miss me, Wil?" She smiled, pulling on her black low-cut boots. Deadpool watched as her scar crinkled at the corner of her eye as she smiled. He never had pried on how she had gotten the scar. After all, he can't have her giving information when she hasn't even seen his disfigured face.
In all honesty, he really liked her scar since it was pale compared to her soft complextion, and it extended down her cheek until it reached the corner of her mouth. It really made her eyes stand out even more.
"Just want to know when I am suppose to expect you home, before I send out search partys." His reply was completely honest. He really didn't appreciate that Bell was also a mercenary; it was no career a petite little woman like Bell should pursue.
However, persuading the woman to retire from her line of work was like telling a snake to grow wings and fly: not possible. She was too dedicated, too eager to get a job request. But it was on one of her missions he met Bell.
"I should be back within a week. Take care of Al for me, will you?"
"A week?! But it shouldn't take more than three days. Where are you going?" He scowled, not even his missions took that long unless he dragged them out intentionally; however, if it was ranked an S-class mission, it was dangerous. Even for someone like Deadpool himself. For Bell, despite her talent in hand-to-hand combat, it would be more than a challenge.
"What's the ranking?"
"Its... somewhere in between A and Z." She must've saw the look on Deadpool's face since she was quick to say, "But it's alright because I can... call you if anything were to happen-"
"I'm meeting your employer." He cut her off. He didn't want to hear any of that. It was extremely suspicious that she refused to give the ranking, which was not considered important in anyway to the employer.
"W-what? But it's my job." She protested, spinning around to face him.
"If you refuse to give me your ranking, I have no choice. You can't just expect me to allow you to do a mission that is above the average, especially by yourself."
She crossed her arms, her pout only increasing.
Maybe we should allow her the option of us going with her, or she doesn't go at all.
Me likey.
"Either we go with you, or the author won't let you go at all because she doesn't know how to handle all my awesomeness." He jerked a thumb towards his face, feeling proud of his explaination. "And because dogs are evil."
"What are you talking about? Where does this person called 'author' and dogs come into this at any point in time?!" She scowled, taking long strides over to her dresser. Opening a few drawers, she pulled out a few guns, throwing them across the room onto the bed.
Thats where she kept her weapons this whole time?!
Why didn't I think of that?
Deadpool shrugged, it was a better place than where he kept his guns: the oven, fridge, tv, ceiling fan, and his bedroom doorway. One time he hide one in his pants, but when it misfired, he was quick to find another hiding place.
"That was difficult times."
We almost became a woman.
We almost became a freak of nature. You have boy part, or a girl part, there is no 'neither'.
We could have been unique.
"I could have bo-irl... or gir-oy." He said thoughtfully.
"What are-... I honestly don't want to know what goes on in that thick head of yours." She mumbled as she picked up the weapons from her bed and carelessly through them into a bag before struting past him out the door.
"Well, are you coming or not?" She yelled back, shouldering her duffle bag.
That was easier than I thought. Too easy.
She wants me!
