An hour earlier…
"It's done," Dr. Killebrew proclaimed. He presented the syringe of bright orange liquid to his guest, Black Tom.
Tom took it and held it up to the light, not bothering to hide his skepticism. "Don't look like much."
"It isn't, really," Killebrew replied, taking off his lab coat. "That syringe will only grant you one hour of the advanced healing factor that Deadpool has."
"An hour will be more than 'nough time," Tom said. "I got this off him last time."
"True," Killebrew admitted. "Just make sure you use it wisely. That's the only dose I have.
"And he's coming here?" Tom asked, still looking over the syringe.
The doctor nodded. "Oh, yes. You'll be able to get the samples I need."
"Don't ye worry, Doc," Tom said with a twisted smile. "I'ma rip him to pieces after what 'e did ta me."
Sing Sing Correctional Facility.
Beneath the world the public knows lies one of horrors, where the screams of human experiments fill the halls. Over the past century, the lower levels have ben converted and added upon, to hide the deranged things that happen below.
Today, though, the halls are silent, as most experiments have been shipped off to other locations or been pumped full of sedatives. The lead doctor was out for the day, so they were put on pause. However, guards still needed to patrol the halls. The prisoners had a habit of attempting to escape the horrific conditions.
Unlike the upper levels, which needed to meet certain standards and guidelines when it came to prisoner treatment, down here there were no such restrictions. Their cells were six feet by six feet, with the only contents given to the test subjects being a thing sheet and a bucket. For the record, the bucket was only replaced weekly.
Leaning against a corner, flipping through the pages of a magazine he swiped form a convenience store, was one of the guards, with a cigarette hung loosely in his mouth. The contents of the magazine didn't really matter to him, it was just something to kill the time until one of the subjects tried to get out and he could have some real fun.
He let out a sigh and threw the magazine behind him and around the corner. It was always dull when the doctor was away, and this was no different. Couldn't hear anybody scream. He rubbed his nose before he felt something poke his shoulder.
The guard turned around, only to be met with a fist punching straight through his helmet and knocking him out. As he and his cigarette were falling, a gloved hand caught it. Deadpool stepped out of the shadows of the corner, shaking his head slightly.
He looked down at the guard and said, "These things will kill you, y'know."
Siryn rounded the corner and put a finger to her lips. "Quiet, Wade," she whispered. "We still have the element of surprise. Tom don't know we're here yet."
Deadpool shrugged and let the cigarette drop onto the guard's face. "Hey, all things considered, I'm being quiet as a mouse right now." She had to admit, he was speaking quieter than usual.
The two kept moving through the halls as silently as they could, Deadpool making sure to keep his hand on as close to his many guns as possible. Right now, it was hovering a little bit over the shotgun he brought with. It was his favorite shotgun. He named it "Shotgun."
Maybe we should've kept that guy conscious. He could've told us where to go.
"Wade, next time we run into someone, make sure to keep at least one awake," Siryn spoke up behind Deadpool. "We need directions."
I like the way she thinks.
"You would," Deadpool muttered, as if he didn't completely agree.
"What was that?"
Deadpool quickly said, "I should, you're absolutely right."
The hallway stopped and split into two different directions. Deadpool looked down both before saying, "I think we should split up and look for clues, gang."
"Hold up, Fred," Siryn said. "We need to stick together."
She got our Scooby-Doo reference!
Yes, because it's such an obscure reference.
"What, don't trust me not to gut your uncle and turn him into a kebab?" Deadpool asked, holding his hand to his heart.
Wait, isn't that what we're doing?
Shh! She doesn't need to know that!
"To be honest, not really," Siryn admitted. She leaned against one of the walls and poked her head around. "If I went through what you did, I'm not sure I could stop myself either. So, I'm going to be there to be your anchor. To keep your word."
"Remind me again why killing Tom is a bad thing?" Deadpool asked as they turned to the right. "I wasn't the only one at the facility, you know. I'm just the only one who decided to nut up and walk out the door."
"It's wrong because it is," Siryn replied, giving him a stern look. "We have no right to be executioners, even for the lowest of the low."
"What about Nazis?"
That gave Siryn some pause. "Huh?"
"Say I ran into some Nazis being Nazis," Deadpool said. "Are you saying it would be wrong to kill them?"
She blinked. What kind of question was this? Finally, she stuttered out, "N-no, not even them."
Deadpool studied her for a second before shrugging. "Can't deny your conviction," he granted.
They continued forward in silence for a few moments before Siryn stopped Deadpool and pressed both of them up against the wall. Deadpool let out a small squeak in surprise before noticing how close they were. He smiled beneath the mask, and said, "Look, Red, I appreciate the thought, but here? Now?"
Siryn ignored the burning of her cheeks and clamped a hand over his mouth. She leaned forward to glance around the corner. "There's a reception area just up ahead. I count three guards. There're probably more."
Deadpool said something, but it was muffled by Siryn's hand. She looked from the reception area back to the merc. "Make sure at least one of them can answer a question." Deadpool nodded. "And no killing," she stressed, eliciting a whine from him. She pointed a finger at him before lowering her hand.
"You are just no fun," Deadpool said jokingly, cracking his knuckles. "Alright then. Let's make a difference."
They rounded the corner and, before any of the guards noticed, Siryn whispered, "You should cover your ears."
He shot her a look. "Why?"
"Just trust me on this."
Deadpool did as he was told, and Siryn let out a low, consistent whistle. Like a normal whistle, that caught the guards' attention. Unlike a normal whistle, it caused them a searing, sharp pain. Most of them doubled over, clutching their heads. The sound of a gun dropping alerted her to a fourth person that she wasn't able to count.
She held the whistle for ten seconds before stopping and nodding to Deadpool. He then cracked his neck before running forward. He dropped to his knees, sliding on them until he got to the closest guard. He knocked the legs out from under him, grabbing the assault rifle the guard was clutching. The merc quickly knocked him out with the but before throwing it across the room to another guard.
At this point, Siryn came flying in, smashing one of the guards into the wall, backing up, then delivering a strong kick across his face. She turned around and saw two more getting to their feet's. Five total, with three already out. One raised a shaking arm, aiming for Siryn, but Deadpool threw the first man's helmet into him.
The move distracted him long enough for Siryn to rush forward and deliver a flying kick into his abdomen. The guard was winded long enough for Deadpool to join, grabbing the last guard standing and grabbing his head in both hands, and bashing it against the wall a couple times. Siryn couldn't help but give him a look at the brutality.
Deadpool shrugged. "What? He'll live."
The turned to the still conscious guard, recovering from the kick delivered to his chest. He coughed, still holding one hand to his ear, before Deadpool shoved him with his foot onto the ground. The merc climbed on top of him, pulled of the helmet, and brandished a knife.
"Hey, bud. What's your name?"
The guard sputtered, struggling to get up, but Deadpool gripped his chin. He gave the guard's cheek a few light slaps with the soft side of the knife before asking again. "C'mon, let's hear that name. There can't truly be a deep interrogator-interrogated relationship when one party doesn't even give their own name. Here, let me show you."
He pointed to Siryn. "Her name is Emma Stone, and my name is Sir Paddington Willingham the Third. Now, it's your turn." She rolled her eyes, but found herself smiling anyway.
"M-My name's—" the guard started to say, but Deadpool interrupted, saying, "That's great, #256, really, but how's about the three of us play a little game of Jeopardy!, yeah? How'd you feel about that, Emma?"
"I think that sounds like a helluva time, Sir Paddington," Siryn replied, deciding to play along with Deadpool's game.
"Now, like the normal game, I'm going to give you a phrase, and you're going to respond in the form of a question. Following me so far?" The guard nodded. "Good. Unlike the normal game, if you get it wrong, you don't get docked points, or whatever, but instead, I'm going to beat you. A lot. And don't let the pretty looks fool you, Emma Stone ain't gonna help you."
Not entirely the truth, Siryn thought to herself. She wouldn't let Deadpool actively kill the man, but roughing him up a bit was necessary. If a little cruel. So she just didn't say anything, and hoped her discomfort didn't show.
"Ready to begin? Great!" Deadpool leaned closer. "'Tom is in this room.'"
"I don't know what the hell you're talking about," the guard spat out. In return, Deadpool delivered a swift punch to the face. The added mass of the knife handle made the punch land that much harder.
The merc shrugged. "Since the rules of Jeopardy! can be a little confusing, I'm gonna let you off with a light warning. Now, try again, and mean it this time. I'll even restate the phrase in a way that might help; 'Killebrew is keeping Tom in this specific room'. Does that help?"
The guard looked between Deadpool and Siryn. Based on his look of panic, he believed she was just going to stand by and watch. "Down the hall, up the stairs, it'll be the room that says experimentation room."
Deadpool looked back at Siryn, who nodded in affirmation. The merc delivered another, heavier punch, knocking the guard out. "Sorry, that wasn't in the form of a question," he said to the air, replacing the knife in its sheath. "Good guess though."
He nodded at Siryn and they hurried off towards the door. They almost made it to the stairway when Deadpool skidded to a halt in front of a door. Siryn stopped and looked back. What on Earth was he doing?
"Wade?" she called out. "Are you alright?"
He was stood stock still, staring at the sign. She stepped over and gave it a look. It just read, "Killebrew."
She touched him on the shoulder. "Wade, who's Killebrew?"
"An old friend," he said absently. "Excuse me, Red, but I've got a candy gram I need to deliver."
As he reached for the door, Siryn stepped in front of him. "I don't know what that man has done to ye, but I need ye here, focused. For all we know, this 'Killebrew' isn't here, but Tom is! And we can stop him."
Deadpool looked down at her. "Move."
The harshness of his voice took her aback. She had only heard it directed towards her when she first properly met him, but considering the circumstances, it was hardly surprising. But there was no softness here, like when the two were on the rooftop, nor was there any cheerfulness, like there was the rest of the time.
There was just anger and hatred. More than even for Tom.
"Wade," she said. "I want to help ye, but Tom's the priority here."
They stared at each other for a long moment. Even beneath the mask, she could tell Deadpool was struggling with the decision. He looked down the hall, towards the stairs, and then back at the door. He shook his head.
"I'm sorry," he said. "I have to know."
"Then ye go alone, Wade," she said sadly.
He nodded softly before gently pushing past her. As he walked through the door, he gave her one last look before closing it behind him. Siryn gave a soft sigh. "Damnit, Wade," she muttered under her breath, before rushing towards the stairs.
She followed the directions the guard had given her to another door, labeled "Laboratory 001". As she reached for the handle, she froze. It came crashing down on her exactly what she was getting into. It's been so long since she had seen Tom.
When they last saw each other, Tom was giving his life to protect her. Now, she had to take him down and brink him back to Genosha. There was a strange pit in her stomach that she couldn't quite shake. Beforehand, she hadn't thought about it too much.
Was the shock that not only was Tom alive, but he was the person she was supposed to bring in wearing off? There was a battle going on in her mind. She was thinking back to the time they spent together, and what the torture that he put Deadpool through.
She didn't want to believe Deadpool. By all rights, she shouldn't. He was hardly what one would call mentally sound and had no evidence to back up his claims. And yet, there was this conviction in his voice, the utter brokenness to it… it had swayed her. She believed him.
She took a deep breath and opened the door.
The room itself wasn't the largest. She would have to be careful about her powers here, lest she bring down the whole facility. There were tables lined up neatly in two rows of three, with various scientific equipment such as beakers, vials, tubes, and the like. Truthfully, it looked like these belong in some old science fiction movie, rather than a genuine lab.
And across the room, there he was.
Hunched over a desk. His back was towards her. It didn't seem like he knew she was there. He was muttering to himself, although she couldn't make out what, and clutching his left arm. She took a few tentative steps closer.
He wasn't wearing a shirt, and she could see the root-like growths on him. She didn't get a clear look when she saved Deadpool, but here it was clear how much pain they were causing him. They were mostly focused on his left side, but the right arm looked to be affected as well from the elbow down. His hair was longer than she remember, falling to about his shoulders, and about as ragged as the rest of him look.
"Tom…" she breathed.
Suddenly, Tom whipped around, staring at her with his mouth hung open and his eyes as wide as saucers, still breathing heavily. Siryn flinched back. The left side of Tom's face was covered with the growth as well, darkening the left eye in shadow.
"Terry," he said, regaining a little bit of composure. He regarded her sadly. "Ye should've stayed away."
She had a lot of questions for Tom. What he was doing with Killebrew, how he stayed alive, why he was on the X-Men's radar, what twisted things did Weapon X have him do. But the one she found herself asking, the one that she had been caring with her for so long;
"Why did you leave me?" she asked, feeling the catch in her throat.
He looked away from her. "I-I couldn't come back to ye. Not like this."
"What happened? You got swallowed by that crowd, and-and you just disappeared," she stammered. Her composure was breaking down. Try as all the X-Men training in the world might, when confronted with the man who raised her from birth, who was willing to die for her, she couldn't concentrate.
"Ye shouldn't've come 'ere," Tom said sadly. "I do nae want to hurt ye."
"T-Then surrender," she said, trying to control her raging emotions right now. It was a swarm of memories, of sadness, of relief, of confusion. But little by little, she could feel herself steeling against it. "No one has ta be hurt here."
"I don't wish to hurt ye, Terry. But I will not let you stop me."
"Stop you from what?" she asked. "What are you even doin' here?"
"I need that bastard's blood," he said, referring to Deadpool.
"I'm sick, Terry. When they pulled me carcass from whateva hole that mob left me in, they healed me with this shite," he said, motioning to the growths. "It made me so much stronger, but what they did nae tell me was this shite would give me a fucking virus!" He whipped around and smashed his fist onto the desk with such force, it completely shattered it.
Siryn stepped forward tentatively. "Give yourself up," she said again. "We have great doctors in Genosha. Hank McCoy could perhaps make a cure."
"And then what?" he demanded. "I spend the rest of me life in a fucking cell?" He shook his head. "No. I won't do that. I can't. I don't deserve that."
"Tom, I know what you did for Weapon X," Siryn said bluntly.
Tom didn't respond. He just waited for Siryn to continue.
"Even before you left, I knew what you did to get our money. I was able to look past it, because you did it for me. But what you did? And don't lie to me and say Deadpool was the only one in that program. Don't tell me you 'don't deserve it'. You're lucky I don't let Deadpool have his way. He wants to kill you, and I won't lie; I was sorely tempted to let him."
"So, that's how it is, then?" Tom asked.
Feeling her earlier confusion and wave of emotions vanish, she readied herself. "That's how it is."
He nodded. Then, without another wasted second, threw a fireball at her. She expertly dodged it, flying into him as fast as she could. They crashed into the wall, knocking the wind out of Tom's lungs, before Siryn grabbed hold of his arm and used her whole body as leverage to flip him over her shoulder. He slammed into the wooden pile left by the shattered desk.
It didn't leave much of an effect on him, as he threw another fireball at her from the ground. Again, she avoided it, causing it to detonate on the ceiling. But this allowed Tom to get to his feet, as he threw out two more. She ran straight for the projectiles, ducking below the first, and trying to move aside for the second.
She was just an instant too slow, however, as it clipped her side. She was thrown off course, unable to follow up with an offensive move. This allowed Tom to grab her by the arm and throw her across the room. She slammed into one of the tables, causing the glass vials and beakers to fall, shattering on the floor. She felt some small shards cut into her hand, but she didn't let that distract her.
Siryn recovered enough to send a small sonic scream towards Tom. It was controlled enough to act as little more than a concussive blast, sending Tom flying back. He crashed into the wall with enough force to leave a small dent, but he recovered near instantly, pushing against the wall and launching himself towards Siryn.
She avoided the punch that Tom threw, then grabbed his arm and sent an open palm strike up into his chin. His head snapped backwards, before she followed it up with a kick to the gut sending him back a few passes.
Taking the time to take a breath, she tried to follow it up with another sonic scream, but Tom recovered near instantly, grabbing her by the throat. He pulled her closer, snarling, "I told ye."
He whirled around, throwing her across the room. She crashed into one of the tables, toppling it and its contents. Siryn clutched her chest, but she didn't have time to think on the pain. The sound of Tom charging up another fireball came to her, so she quickly got up and vaulted over the table. But the wooden furnishing only offered so much protection, so when the fireball slammed into the table, is exploded in pieces and causing her to scream in pain.
Tom stomped forward, grabbing hold one of the larger pieces of table leftover, and threw it off of her. He crouched down and put both hands around her neck. "I didn't want to hurt ye, but ye left me no fuckin' choice!"
Siryn tried to something, but it only came out as a cough.
"When ye wake up, never come after me again. If ye do, I can't promise ye'll walk away."
The darkness was creeping into her vision. She was beginning to feel lightheaded. She couldn't scream, only watch the man who raised her from birth, the man who would dote on her, try to choke the life out of her.
Tom kept one hand on her neck and raised a fist, preparing to knock Siryn out. But he was stopped when a blade plunged through his chest.
He let go of Siryn and grabbed hold of the blade. The X-Man looked through her haze to see Deadpool poke his head out from behind Tom. The merc shouted, in an exaggerated Irish accent, "Top of the mornin' to ye, Tom!"