Hi everyone. Deadpool here.

You've known me for a few years now as a sensational star of the silver screen. But back then I was a big fish in a small pond. Now the pond is like, the whole damn ocean, and now I'm finally swimming with heroes a little bit more... Me sized? I lost track of the metaphor.

Long story short: now I'm the new kid on the block. Again. I need to make a big first impression. I need - a crossover!

Now I know what you're thinking, 'Deadpool, you're a big star! Can't you call up an Avenger anytime you want?' I wish, pal. Think about it. Deadpool and Thor? I don't have time for all his daddy issues. Deadpool and Rocket Raccoon? The world isn't ready for that. No, there's only a few dudes bad enough to roll with my crew, and they're all gone. Wolverine? Jackman retired. Captain America? Evans wants to pivot to directing, or something. And all without so much as a goodbye note for yours truly.

But then, one night as I lay awake looking through my hero flash cards and crying to Celine Dion (the "Deadpool Special," I highly recommend), I found the solution. Spider-Man. Everyone loves when Spider-Man and Deadpool get together! They just don't know it yet.

So, summary, this is my last chance to show I can do crossovers with the big boys. If I can get in good with Spider-Man, I'll be set for life. So don't !#&% this up for me.

Ugh, that'll take some getting used to.

XOXO

DP


Picture a New York parking garage. It's not the one down the street from Junior's Cheesecake; this is the bad side of town. Nobody's parked here overnight. And there's a man. Tight black shirt, tight black pants, bald head. Think Blue Man Group. The scattered light of the garage throws his features into harsh relief, like a Frank Miller drawing. That's Jason Macendale, and he has been summoned here by a mysterious benefactor with the promise of mercenary work.

Now a second man appears. Macendale is cagey, but the newcomer raises his hands to show he isn't packing. This guy has a purple jacket on. He must be sweating his balls off, it's August. That's Paul Denning. There won't be a test later, but it just makes things easier...

"Where's the client? Denning asked, stretching out his hands.

"We're early."

"Not your first time either, eh?"

Macendale smirked.

"No it is not. But even I haven't gotten an offer like this before. Name's Jason."

"Paul. Dennings."

Two more men approached. A dark skinned man in a quilted yellow coat sized up the two men.

"You guys here for the Spider thing?"

"You too?" Denning asked.

"Yup. Schultz. Call me Shocker."

Jason raised an eyebrow.

"I've heard of you. Weird being back on the outside?"

"It gets weirder."

His friend stepped into the light. He was bald like Schultz, with tattoos on his neck. A web of scars climbed over his left eye. His right arm was in a sort of splint with long sutures sticking from the sides. He looked at Paul and Jason with cold, clear eyes,

"Mac Gargan?" Macendale said with wide eyes. "You've got a rap sheet on half the East Coast."

"Who let you out of Ryker's?" Denning asked aloud.

"I did."

Out of the shadows stepped a middle-aged man with a bushy mustache. His head was also bare, save for a fringe of dark hair that quickly faded to white around his ears.

"Okay, now I'm more confused. Why is J Jonah Jameson hiring mercenaries?"

"I think I understand, Paul," Jason shook his head. "This freaking city."

"All of you are no doubt looking for more details on the little job I've arranged for you," Jameson began. But he was interrupted.

"Sorry I'm late, the cabs in this town are nuts!"

A man walked in from the stairwell, dressed head to toe in tight red and black. A harness held two swords to his back, and his belt was heavily laden with pockets. A red mask hid his face, with two small points of white blinked at them where his eyes lay beneath.

Jameson frowned.

"I'm sorry, you are?"

"It's me, Deadpool!"

Everyone looked at him blankly.

"Deadpool. Wade… Wilson? We were in the email group together? Is this… is this not the spooky mercenary meeting? I wrote the address on a Wendy's napkin on my way down, and you know those things never hold up-"

"Stop talking," Jameson barked. "We don't do business in masks."

"This is more of a, let's go with 'hygienic' situation. It's not so good from my brand without the mask."

"Take it off or get out."

"Okay, chief. But I warned you."

Wade pulled the mask from his head, and the others murmured uncomfortably. His face was pocked by an uncountable number of scars and lesions. He grinned and shrugged.

"You should see the other guy."

Jameson balked and averted his eyes.

"God! Put it back on. You're excused."

"Cool. Well, now that that's settled, why are we all in a parking garage?"

"Yes… let's get down to business," Gargan growled, speaking for the first time.

Jameson nodded, and adjusted his tie.

"Three months ago, the superhero Mysterio was murdered in London by the masked vigilante Spider-Man. Thanks to the late hero, we now know that Spider-Man is in fact 16 year old Peter Parker. I exposed Parker, here in his hometown, not long after. That should have been the end of it. But the public needs proof. Taking down that webbed menace will be the feather in the cap of my mayoral campaign."

"So you want us to kill Spider-Man," Macendale summarized.

"No! A dead kid is worthless at the polls. I need you to bring me Spider-Man - alive - so that I can unmask him on my show, and prove to everyone that I was right!"

Dennings thought for a moment.

"Wouldn't it be easier to grab this Parker guy while he's off duty, make him cop to it without his toys?"

"No. Anyone can get a confession out of a scared twerp. It won't be proof unless I have him in the costume. Plus, Parker and his aunt went to ground weeks ago. Spider-Man, on the other hand, has still been spotted from time to time."

"Seems simple enough," Deadpool reasoned. "How much trouble can one teenager be?"

"He's killed before," Jonah said darkly. "Do not underestimate the existential threat that Spider-Man represents to the city of New York."


We met up with Jameson the next evening. After treating us to some of the Big Apple's hottest of haute cuisine, JJ sent us off to start working…

"It's dark."

"No shit, Wilson," Shultz called back.

Deadpool bit another hunk out of his churro. "Jusht making convershashion."

They were all staked out on a roof in the Garment District. Watching for a glimpse of Spider-Man.

"So, uh, anyone else got a fun name? I got Deadpool because people would always lose money betting I would get killed on assignment."

Denning ginned.

"I used to work out of Chicago. They called me the Paladin. We heard a lot of things up there."

"Things like what?" Wade asked, glad that someone took the cue.

"Every week, a new story about how crazy the underworld was getting in New York. Flying men, alien guns, all of that. Things were looking up here, and looking way down back home, for me personally."

"So you came out here to sample the culture?"

"Well, let's just say I'm not going back to Chicago any time soon," Denning said, his eyes glazing over.

Wade coughed, snapping him out of his fog.

"So, uh," Paladin laughed nervously, "You're the Shocker. Where's Toomes? Didn't you used to run with the Vulture?"

"Toomes has gone soft since he got in," Gargan snarled.

"I wasn't aware I'd be working this job with convicted criminals," Jason said.

"And what's your story, slim?" Wade asked.

I used to do wetwork for the CIA. Got disavowed years ago."

"And he calls us criminals," Shocker muttered.

"Stop talking," Gargan raised his good arm. "Look there."

The five men looked at the buildings in the direction Gargan pointed. They thought it was nothing at first, until they saw a small shape move between two fire escapes.

"There you are," Jason muttered.

"Whelp," Paladin cocked his rifle. "Let's get this done."

"Let's go catch us a Spider," Gargan grinned.