"Yeah, I know what you're thinking. 'Oh, have I read the wrong line!? Is this the author's note that I unashamedly skip every single time!? The hell? Is he talking to me!? Well, you'll be glad to know that it is...not, but yes, I am."

"If you are not familiarized with the handsome ME, then I suggest you go home - Earth is already full enough as it is, thank you very much. If you are, well, just sit back and enjoy, will ya?"

"A.n.y.w.a.y - if we're to continue last week's chapter, we'll have to discontinue it first. And by that I mean going back to what is really important - my dream of being Hokage...or maybe that particular phone call?"

"Oh, and be sure to check the disclaimers and comments at the end of the chapter, will ya?"

Arch 2 - Re:Life
Chapter 4: Fragile Minds

"Please don't come for me - I promise I'll be great. Just let me keep what's mine. Please don't come for me, but if you must, then please wait - let me have some time."
Larkin Poe - Mad As a Hatter

Several hours earlier...

His body was still wet and warm from the shower. Small droplets of water descended his back and slowly fell to the bathroom's carpet. He took his time to go to the towel and wrap it around his body. To be honest, he wasn't so worried about wetting a floor that wasn't even his to begin with.

His phone rang. It was on a table in the hotel's bedroom. For a moment, he bopped his head and swung his body around in a little dance. He really liked that tune. It reminded him of the old days - back when he didn't had to hide his face in public harder than a fat man hides his scrotum while crossing a playground.

He tried to move there fast. Even thought week's decisions weren't one-sided, there was no denying the surge of hope that crawled over his heart. But he stepped on his towel and almost hit his forehead on the table's corner.

"Wait, wait, wait, wait! Who am I, Isabella Swan?"

He stumbled all the way up from the floor and put the phone against his ears. And waited.

"Hello?" Asked an uncertain female voice that was most definitely not hers.

"Hi." Was his sole answer. Did the woman notice his disappointment? He hoped so.

"Is this...Deadpool's number?"

"Yes" Darn! He had answered in autopilot! He had to review some of his secretive phone speaks later. Maybe something more like 'who wants to know?' or 'the real question is, is this your phone number calling what you suppose to be Deadpool's number?' would've been better.

"...And are you?" she asked, breaking him of his odd reveries.

"Am I what?" His towel slipped off and Satan curses whatever retard had left that window half-closed. His butt would be very thankful, that's for sure.

"Are you Deadpool or not!?" She was clearly irritated. Strange. He hadn't even done anything yet.

"It would've been so much easier for us all if you had just began with that one, wouldn't it? I'm Deadpool, by the way." Shit! "How did you get my number, again?" Maybe she wouldn't notice.

"Look" she breathed out. He could hear some static on the background. "I wouldn't be calling if it wasn't an emergency, okay? I need you to find my friend. She's been missing for some time now, and my...friend - my other friend - told me you're the closer one who'd be able to help me out."

"From Isabella to Emma, it seemed..."

"Alright" he dragged the word as he sat down on his bed. Yep - still cold. "So, your 'other friend' happened to mention to you something about a reward, perhaps? Some 'bufunfa', maybe?"

"Just find her, and I'll give you enough money to get you out of the streets for years, alright!?" And there was that chipping sound again. Maybe she was inside a tunnel or something? Wait, did she just say 'streets?'. He might've been homeless, but he wasn't homeless...well, he was, but he had money not to live on the streets...for a little while, maybe?

"That sounds interesting, 'mysterious voice number three'." He wasn't about to think too hard about the first two. Least they decide to manifest themselves. "Now, who do I need to find, again?"

"Her name is Darcy Lewis. She was supposed to call me yesterday, but her cellphone has been shut for days now, and I just can't take any chances, at the moment?"

"Look, lady, your friend is probably chilling somewhere. It's almost ten, and I want to sleep soon, very soon. Why not call the police or something?"

"I can't, okay? Just find her and take her somewhere safe, and I'll keep 'them' out of your back." Them? The hell was she even talking about? Francis bill payers, maybe? "I'm sending you a photo of her."

"Okay, okay" he whined like a defeated child. "But you better make it worth my time, lady."

"The last time I spoke to her, she was at her house." And she ignored him exactly like a parent normally does. "It's in Lilies Breath's Wood. It's not far from the city you're in right now."

"And they say 'X-force' couldn't be a bigger copyright target."

"I gotta go now" she seemed in a hurry. Everything in the last few minutes seemed quite hurried, to be honest. "I'll call you."

"Hey, wait!" He gripped the phone harder and jumped from the bed. "How did you know all that? How did you got my numb-" and his speech was cut by the phone call being hung up on his face.

"What the?" He looked at the phone's screen and even gave himself the trouble of turning it around a few times, but the end result was still the same. In frustration, he squeezed the phone and threw it on the bed. It jumped high in the air, though, and he only had time to grimace as it flew right out the half open window.

"Well...they do say everything in life is figureoutable."

Oh, who was he kidding!? He had pretty much just fucked up any slight chance he had of finding the damnable girl. Or maybe of recognising her, at least! Wasn't "rage episodes" another one of the motives of their relationship's curtain call, anyway?

Too much had happened too soon, and he wasn't even talking just about the past few days. Not long ago he was just a badass guy who chased down not-so-badass douches for money. And then he had cancer, and all that shit had hit the fan and spiralled out of control right down his throat.

He preferred not to dwell on his actions anymore, grabbed his fallen towel and went back to the bathroom. He dried himself absent-mindedly, as he considered possible ways of finding the girl. He knew for almost sure she was no kid, so it narrowed things down a bit.

He soon found himself back back at his bed's side. The only viable option he had was to try and find the girl regardless of the odds. If he did find her, he'd be paid. If he did not, well, he didn't got paid. His night was already ruined, anyway.

He took a small briefcase from beneath the bed's cushions. It had his red uniform inside: the perfect way of reassuming his "solo mode" for a while. He just hoped the other guys wouldn't be offended or something. It wasn't personal. He was sure the X-men didn't used their uniforms to go buy candy at the mall...or maybe they weren't the best examples for his line of thought.

"Time to make pope poop in the forest." He said, as he rubbed his hands together consiprationally. It wasn't too much for dramatics, though. The breeze was touching him in places he didn't even knew he had before.

If there was one thing he would really miss from his old place was his personal "driver". The guy was completely bananas! Not to mention that he was indeed very good at driving through some nasty shootings. The fact that he shitted his pants all the bloody time was but a minimal detail, really. Even when it smelled.

That and the watch he had lost somewhere when he first arrived in town, actually. He had spent so many hours just sitting there and admiring his most prized and overpriced acquisition, and yet he had lost it! It had even survived through all that Weapon-X bullshit. And it was a collector's edition, too!

What irritated him the most though was how long it took him to break through that damnable car's window. Conveniently enough, it's keys were left inside. Heck, maybe he was doing the owner a favour. No one that dumb could possibly be a safe driver, after all.

He suddenly realized that he was almost where he was supposed to be, and still had zero idea about who he was looking for and how he would even begin to find the unfortunate creature. It was quite frustrating, if he was being honest with himself.

Hopefully he would find the girl in the middle of the woods, laid down peacefully and waiting for him to take her back home. That kind of crap seemed to happen all the time in those comic stuff he had read sometime ago, albeit in "original and quite different ways".

The dark clouds, the mist and the rain seemed to have other plans, though. They completely obscured his view from anything ahead. It was a wonder he hadn't hit someone or something else already. He felt like the main character from a fifty's old horror movie.

That damnable storm had literally came out of nowhere a few hours earlier. It was quite spooky and looked as natural as Paris Hilton's hair, too. And that was saying quite a lot.

He should've known such a generous offer wouldn't come from an easy job. It was how the prospect of rewards itself worked, after all: bigger challenges, bigger prizes. The actual problem was that his challenge couldn't be completed by himself, and he was not sure about how much life was still left inside his counterpart's body. Hopefully enough.

And the woman in the phone had said something about her friend being "safe", or some bullshit like that. As if it was entirely up to him! He wasn't a damnable priest! He couldn't heal anyone else - nor could he even heal himself, either: his body did it on autopilot. One doesn't simply gets brutally tortured and sprouts some overpowered ninja skills out of their anus, after all.

If he really stopped to think about it, though, he had absolutely no idea how the hell he was even able to do what he was. It was no secret that Francis and Marilyn Manson's genderbent version would've never let him become as curable as he had became without a mean to control it for their own shady schemes.

Maybe they just didn't had the time?

Worse part was his babysitting halo insisted to glow above his head ever since that Cable incident. And it was not cool, man. Not cool at all. Of course he had thought about fathering someone many, many years before when he sat on the toilet - but being a hired babysitter for grown-up anvils was far from his mind at the time. Not to mention a hired babysitter for a grown-up and quite disappeared female.

His foot crashed down suddenly. It pressed on the car's brakes with all hit's might. His ears could hear the whistle of tires midst the rain outside, but his sole attention was focused at the fallen tree in the middle of the road.

His efforts were all in vain, though, for the car hit it head on, and his body was thrown outside the window without an once of mercy. He could swear he had heard his own voice echo the same curse word multiple times inside his head. But it might've been just the glass tearing away at his eardrums.

His back hit against the bark of another tree. Hard. His vision blurred and he was only slightly aware of how painful his fall were. There it was! He was about to finally have his "dramatic blackout" moment!

"Wade..." An unknown voice echoed in his head. He thought he was free from it! Maybe Vanessa was right, after all. Maybe he was crazy - or at least a little feet away from it's gripe. He had yet to know of someone who heard voices inside their heads and wasn't bananas - or maybe not anyone who spoke inside other people's heads and wasn't.

If he would be honest with himself, that strange female voice was one of the reasons as to why they broke up in the first place, even though not such a major one. His girlfriend had not said it out loud, of course - he was sure she would never intentionally hurt his feelings like that. But the fact was still there - loud and clear in his head.

It had all began when the Frankenstein couple decided to make him their "super slave" - and miserably failed -, by the way. Or at least it was during the same period of time. But, then again, which other major events could had happened by then to completely screw up with his head?

Sadly, that was not the time for a nap, nor the place for any bombastic revelations abut the voices which plagued his mind, and so he just got up and stretched a little bit. The bones on his shoulders popped and he had to grit his teeth. Whoever wanted to have "superpowers" should definitely read their license agreement. Regeneration was awesome, but he wasn't into that stuff.

"Let it be said, though, that I do not believe any of you nerds would actually want to give up on the chance of being bitten by a super-spider. Not until you started throwing webs out of your balloon knots and twatwaffles, that is. If you lived enough to experience it, I mean."

He was very thankful for his boots. He knew it wouldn't be pretty if he were to step on mud wearing a pair of slippers. Which didn't meant he wouldn't try it out at a later date. Purely for the sake of science and the well being of every citizen of the world - and of America, of course.

All he needed to do then was to find the damnable girl whose picture he had never seen. He might not know about a lot of the whole religious "truth" thing. But in that single moment, he was sure that, if God indeed created the world, the damn asshole was a complete failure with UI design! Where was the eye built-in tracking system!?

He did knew her name, though. He supposed every journey had to begin somewhere, after all. That first push could be the first step out of one's door, a bird's first flight, or maybe even the completely atrocious first sight of a noseless weirdo who couldn't even successfully invade a feeble school.

So...maybe if he called her name high enough she'd listen and scream back? Nah, that wouldn't do at all. How could she scream his name back, if she didn't knew his name? He wasn't about to go screaming his name out loud like a fool, lest he'd mistake a "w" for a "s" and be sued by copyright infringement.

"Find her..." Again the whisper.

He could call a random mother, too. They seemed to know where everything was all the fucking time. If he didn't knew any better, he'd say they just left stuff around for them to seem like a super duper tracking robot when they finally picked it back up.

His gaze slid away from the fallen tree to the surrounding landscape, and a puff of air left his lungs. It seemed that he could just follow the quite obvious trail of destruction left behind by cockscycles know what, which, conveniently enough, led to a very specific area of the forest. And he could do all that while he blatantly ignored any voices that could possibly be inside his head, too.

"Talk about killing two ants with a single piss jet" he chuckled to himself, as his mind found itself assaulted by things that were better left untold.

It took him much more time than he'd like to admit to reach the trail's end. For the mass destruction he'd seen at first, he thought it couldn't be that long. When big, heavy things fall, they don't usually race around their crashing site - they dug right in!

There was a big, big hole at it's end, though. But it could never had been made by what laid inside it; nor by "who". He was quite sure two quite young looking females would've been completely crushed by such a fall.

But, then again, maybe the two woman hadn't been pulled down by Earth's gravity - at least not from very high above. The strange dark marks that littered all around the place gave him pause, though. Maybe they were messing up with things they shouldn't, and they just happened to blow up in their faces? The marks certainly didn't looked like a lightning bolt's aftermath. It happened much more than people seemed to think.

He took a small moment to ponder the best way to descent the hole, and used all the gracefulness of a rampaging bull to run down it's edges. The women smelled like dead animal's remains - and the scent must had been really strong for the heavy rain not to be able to wash it away. It smelled almost like Colossus' shoes... but maybe not that bad.

"Believe me, you don't want to know how, nor why I knew how they smelled like."

And the big question of the whole millennia stared right at his face: who the hell was Darcy Lewis!? The hell would he even know which one of them was her, or if any of them were even the right girl, to begin "which"!?

He hoped he wouldn't break much more of his super-important-but-not-quite-as-super-expensive things lately. They were really hard to come by, due to his life style. And when they weren't hard to find, they surely gave him a major headache to be dealt with.

Careful not to wake them - as if he needed to be - he searched their clothes for documents, names, or any bloody thing that could help. Or at least he searched one of them, for the other wore but tatters, and he was quite sure nothing could be used to store stuff on their remains. They were having a hard job to store what they were supposed to store in the first place!

Not that he was in any position to badmouth her choice of wardrobe, though. He was sure there weren't many who wore a "ninja spiderman" suit for work. And it was really not his fault that it suited him so bloody well, too. He had no need for a wannabe dad to give him his suit, at least.

Was was important, though, was that all he found by the end of his search was a couple of chewing gums he unashamedly helped himself to and some white pills he decided not to mess with.

Where the hell was the voice in his head when he needed a little advice, anyway? Was it just a haunting hell-bent on screwing things over for him? It was surely doing one hell of a job was that the case.

A long, sad breath escaped his lips as he considered the ill fate ahead. Maybe breaking his phone wasn't such a bad thing, after all. Who knows how many more creepy weirdos he'd had to look for if it was still intact? Money be damned - that would suck!

He couldn't leave one of them behind, nor could he leave both, though. It was just the same as giving up on his whole goal and making the past hours utterly worthless, not to mention tiring and irritating. He couldn't have that. Plus, he kinda needed a distraction from all the real ghosts, and failing another thing wouldn't be a good one, that's for sure.

If only he knew how to turn his hair into a powerful spiky yellow or to fly around like a man who wears his diapers above his pants, he wouldn't be into such a dilemma!

He need to think - and to think fast. He could be a light-headed, probably crazy fool, but he did knew those women wouldn't last long in the rain. Not to mention he had no idea what the hell had truly happened to the woods, and it could come back to bite them all in the ass at any minute.

To cover them with something nice would be a good idea, but his backpack was back in the car, and covering them with anything but dry clothes wasn't going to better their situation at all, and his uniform would definitively speed-up their impending doom.

He looked around for anything that could help, and his eyes zeroed in a really bad smelling "natural rope" It prompted him to make a quite dumb decision that his back would soon come to hate him for: he, after a long series of trial and error, bound one of the females to his back in a totally screwed up piggy back position. He then used his arms to carry the other female, instead of holding the first one's legs.

It'd be the century's worst pleonasm to say the journey up the crater wasn't an easy or pleasant one. He could feel his back muscles protest here and there, and he was only faintly aware how utterly fruitless it would all be for him if neither of them was the girl he was looking for. It would be even worse than the time he tried to sell a pineapple to a deaf blind man.

"Remember..." Whispered the voice from before. It certainly didn't expect him to accept it back after the most disregarding abandonment he had just suffered by it's "soundy" hands.

He climbed the rest of the hole and put his feet to good use. As he walked back the way he had trailed forth, he hoped the car still worked well enough to get them all away from the woods. He could just crash into some wooden cabin or travel right back to the hotel - he didn't care, as long as they lived.

For the bright side, maybe karma would smile upon him a little bit after his utterly greedy, yet quite altruistic actions. It was not like he was saving a cruel tyrant or something...

Disclaimer: If you thought I was going to say that I own nothing here but my own plot ideas...you're absolutely correct! Plus, I just saw that "Re:Life" is an actual anime [Japanese animation], so I don't own any copyrights of that one, too. It is quite a great story, by the way, so, if you like some romantic stuff that's very out of the ordinary, be sure to check it out.

TW: Mentions of child abuse; parental neglect, depression, suicidal thoughts, self-depreciation and mental illness. We'll have a lot of cursing ahead, too. And expect some violence in the far future.

AN: In my defence, it was supposed to be more humoured than this...oh, well.

Now, for my dear readers who are wondering "what the fuck did I just read!?", I'd like to tell ya that was the exactly reaction I was hoping to get outta you xD

But, don't worry, I'm gonna explain "what the hell is Deadpool doing in this fanfiction!?". It is simple, really. You haven't read the comics, so know that our dear Wade is much more relevant than you might think in the stories that are to come. They had to adapt plenty of stuff in a different way for the MCU doe to copyright [and other miscellanea], so that part was excluded. This same part, though, is quite relevant for this story, and so I won't pretend it never happened.

I won't give you spoilers from the comics, but let it be said that Deadpool, Death and MCU's first decent villain adaptation are part of an...interesting plot. They're all related in some ways [and I don't mean the parental one].

Anyway, do not worry - Deadpool isn't going to be a POV character too soon, and we'll be back to our normality the next chapter.

Trivia: I took this long to post this chapter, for I was trying to recreate what I believed to be Deadpool's attention span [at least for a while]. He has mental illness, too, so I would write a bit in one day, and would wait until it all made no more sense to me until I'd write the next stuff one or two days later. I even changed the text formatting to give an extra detail.

I was kinda doubtful about making Deadpool break the fourth wall or not [speak to the public - in this case, the readers], but it would be really hypocritical of me to exclude it, when I point fingers at Marvel for making Hela so underrated in the movieverse.

Hope you guys enjoyed this chapter, and if not...well, shit happens. Worry not, though, for next chapter is already on the makings and is back to our dear ladies - the real reason why we're all here, by the way.

PS: If you haven't read it already, the prologue was rewritten a few days ago. I informed that in an edited version of last week's chapter. Make sure to check it out :P