Wade woke thankfully alone. The night before had been...bad. Bad in ways that meant it was going to be hard to make eye contact with Peter maybe ever again. Stryfe had devoured Wade's attention eagerly, and his reciprocation turned into much more than Wade was able to adequately defend against. In the end, the only thing that saved Wade from certain defilement was his distinct inability to get even remotely hard.

Stryfe (thankfully) took it as a sign that Wade needed more food and rest, and spent the rest of the evening feeding him and coddling him. Also, cuddling him. Making Wade sit in his lap, kissing the merc's neck and massaging his thighs. Wade hated it, but knew that he wasn't strong enough to do a damn thing about it. All he could do was think about Peter, and try to imagine scenarios in which he would be forgiven for letting this happen.

Though, Wade could not feel bad about enjoying the back massage. Cramps are evil.

After changing his makeshift period panties, Wade dressed in a fresh set of annoyingly white clothes. He was pleasantly surprised to see just how much he had filled out overnight. Obviously Stryfe's feeding had done the trick to kick his healing factor into high gear. His ribs were hidden behind thick muscle. His arms no longer appeared skeletal. Not only that, he was strong too. Moving didn't feel like an effort like it did the day before.

Which is how he ended up in the armory with a stack of unconscious guards bound and gagged in the corner. It took a little more effort than Wade was used to when it came to dispatching low-grade minions, but it felt good to get his blood pumping again. Stryfe was gone, out doing his daily survey of his domaine or whatever the fuck Mr. Touchy McToucherson did when he wasn't trying to stick his hand down Wade's pants.

Considering the effort that it took to get into the armory and the amount of guards that kept telling him, "You're not allowed in there!", Wade was overall disappointed with what he found inside. Sure, there were your run of the mill energy weapons, but they were not the type of impressive armaments that he imagined finding in the armory of the Tower that used to be Apocalypse's ship. He expected big hulking things like the guns that Nate always lugged around-even if Wade wasn't exactly the Hulk-type to actually be able to wield such unwieldy things.

The real problem was the low power output. These weapons weren't the kind that would take down someone like Stryfe. Stryfe, who had telekinetic barriers and armor, who probably made sure that his minions could never be armed well enough to kill him.

What Wade really needed was his own weapons. Swords, specifically. TK might block bullets, but it was shit against blades. Bullets, while faster, were predictable. And Wade was anything but predictable even to people who studied his fighting. Tony Masters, the great and powerful, could never come close to mimicking him. Stryfe might be able to throw him back with TK, but if Wade can get close enough to cut, the mutant wouldn't stand a chance.

Wade also knew that Stryfe was exceptionally sentimental about his world's Deadpool, considering the insane lengths he went to acquire a doppelganger. Which meant that somewhere in this vast tower of many levels and rooms, there would be some of this other Wade's equipment.

After gathering what weapons and equipment he could, Wade departed the armory in the uniform of one of the guards. It was a bit snug on his larger frame, but covered him so that he was indistinguishable from the rest and would allow him to move without hindrance.

Due to the daily walks that Stryfe insisted upon, Wade had a pretty good mental map of the Tower. Though he had only been on a few of the many floors, Wade could extrapolate what the rest of the floorplan was like. Most of it was unoccupied and in ruins from old battles and conflicts dating from the time of Apocalypse. Once upon a time there were thousands of soldiers inside the former spacecraft, but now the force was reduced to less than 200.

Outside there was a storm brewing and building. There was an odor in the air, a stinking filthy kind of precipitation that streaked the narrow windows with yellow-brown rivulets. This world, and everything in it, was dying. Wade could feel it. It reminded him of that silent place where all of his multiverse counterparts had perished in their frenzy to end their immortality. Only those who have walked in desolation would know the scent and sight of a doomed place. And this place was doomed now, even if Stryfe was removed from the picture.

Knowing this made Wade feel hollow. He thought about Boak, and how resigned she was to the fact that her life was meant for suffering. Part of him, a very dark part of him, thought it would be best to kill everyone here and get it over with. Why prolong the agony? Why do anything at all…

A small voice in his mind whispered, Peter would be very disappointed.

Tears suddenly stung Wade's eyes. What would Peter think about what he's done here? Killing aside, Wade had willingly touched Stryfe. Sure, it was because he needed to stall the mutant. But still, he'd massaged the bastard. He'd let Stryfe kiss him. And even if it was just an act, Wade had returned the gesture. Wade had participated.

Peter was going to be more than disappointed.

Wade took a deep breath and tried to push the thought out of his head, and continued his search. Here and there were signs of traffic going out of the main halls. Pathways where the tiles shone brighter than the rest. Wade imagined that wherever Stryfe kept the other Deadpool's things would be a place that only he traveled, thus he looked for a path that was used but not overly used.

His search led him in circles, finding empty rooms and dusty corridors, along with rooms that stunk from the rain pouring through blast holes in the wall. Now and then, Wade found fragments of skeletons dressed in the tattered remains of their uniforms. Some clearly died in battle. Others appeared to have taken their own lives. Wade had seen enough death to know the difference.

After a few hours, Wade was about to give up. He'd made his way to the upper levels, and knew that eventually the guards-who were still bound and gagged in the armory-would be noticed to be missing. Soon he would be pursued.

Wade started back to the lifts, but froze in his tracks, immediately bringing the laser rifle to his shoulder as the lift door opened. He expected another guard. Maybe even Stryfe himself. Instead...

"Boak?" Wade said softly.

The girl jumped, nearly dropping the liquid-filled pouch she carried in her arms. Her eyes widened before she gasped, "What are you doing here!"

Wade removed the black cowl that hid his face, and said, "What are you doing here? I thought you were the cleaner."

"I…" She looked at the way he was dressed, then said, "You're not supposed to be up here."

That made him perk up. "Why? What's up here I'm not supposed to know about?"

"I can't tell you," Boak said, her back pressing against the now closed lift doors. "You're not supposed to know. Stryfe will hurt me if you know."

Wade cocked his head, feeling like he had to have missed something important. "The only thing I know is that Stryfe's weapons cache is sad and this whole tower is a shithole. Why are you panicking?"

"I'm not panicking," she said, her breath shallow and eyes dilated in fear.

Wade shook his head. "Kid, I'm not going to hurt you and I'm not going to let Stryfe hurt you. I told you that already. Now, tell me what you are doing up here."

Tears were welling in her eyes. "I'm… I'm here to replenish the sarcophagus."

That caught Wade's attention. Apocalypse's sarcophagus was well known. It was a regeneration chamber, designed to keep the mutant in stasis for eons. Cable told him about the properties of the Celestial device, mainly in relation to Nate's own never ending battle with The First One.

"Take me to it," Wade said, his voice having an edge that made Boak flinch.

The girl immediately started walking, going down a corridor that Wade had already traversed, going to the end of the hall to what appeared to be a blank wall, which opened when Boak said something in the Askani language. Inside was a cavernous chamber-the Throne Room.

"Holy shit," Wade whispered as he walked inside, his footsteps echoing through the vast, empty room. There was a vague memory of this place in the back of Wade's rewritten memory. A room that was filled with the trappings of a Celestial king, a god among mutants. But this room in this world was more like a tomb.

Boak led him up the steps to where once long ago En Sabah Nur ruled the world, and through another set of hidden doors.

Wade's face brightened, seeing a tattered red uniform. "Bingo!"

He rushed inside, finding not just one uniform, but many. Including one made of the same type of metal that made Stryfe's armor. And the weapons. Dear Lord, the weapons were amazing. These were guns he was looking for. They were the giant Celestial made crowd-killers designed to be carried on the shoulders of giant men with no necks. There were glowing buttons and power output selectors that would make any gamer feel like all dreams have come true.

"By the power of Grayskull," Wade gasped upon seeing the swords. They sat in a display along with a few very aged handguns. The blades were carved with runes and strange characters that Wade had never seen before. When he lifted them from their resting place, the metal hummed in his hands.

He waved both in a quick flourish, and the blade sang as they sliced through the air. Wade couldn't help the bubble of laughter. "Hell, yeah. Daddy like."

Boak stood stoically to the side of another door, looking at Wade with the same fear as before. When he looked at her, she said, "You should leave now."

Wade deftly slipped the blades into his back scabbard, and said, "Sorry, sister. I'm here for the premium tour. Let's see what's behind door number 3."

"If you wish," Boak said as she turned and took a deep breath.

At first, Wade thought that breath taken and held because of nerves. A moment later, the scent of death and rot hit his nostrils making him grimace and fight the urge to gag as he followed the girl into the room.

The floor was sticky, and each step made a squishing sound as he trod across a viscous slime that flowed from the valves of the sarcophagus at the center of the room. Other than the slime, there was also what looked like chunks of rotting meat that lay in piles against the wall, some of it turned to ooze while others had dried to jerky. There was a table, like a medical examination table, but it was streaked with blood.

After the initial shock of it all, Wade realized that this was the room where he woke. The smell was the main clue, but he could also see the marks through the filth where he had fallen from the examination table.

Wade turned to the sarcophagus where Boak was undoing the clasps that held the lid in place. With a hiss, it opened. Even from across the room, Wade could see that it was occupied by a body. The body was covered in crude stitches, as if it had been sewn together from many pieces.

His. Pieces.

Wade leaned over the body, an indefinable dread filling his heart upon seeing his face stitched onto another body. And it was his face. Wade may not be a fan of mirrors, but he knew what he looked like. He recalled how he could feel bare bone when he first awoke, and knew it wasn't decay that put him in that state. He had suspected it before, but seeing the reality of what happened to him while he was incapacitated…

"He's insane," Wade whispered.

A heartbeat later, the other's eyes opened.