The plot advances... Finally things start to pick up a little bit in this chapter - enjoy!
Goshie, once again…
There were few things that officially freaked out the merc with the mouth, and this wasn't one of them; however, the sight of an almost seven foot man carrying on a heated conversation with his pectorals was enough to make even Deadpool slightly edgy.
Ever since yoga had ended fifteen minutes ago, he'd been reposing silently under the floor of Swami Fitzgibbon's quarters awaiting the guru's return. The secret niche proved to be invaluable for Deadpool's purposes – and it was right cozy too. From here, he would await the moment Fitzgibbon completed his ritual meditation and went to sleep, and then move in.
Things hadn't gone exactly according to plan, however, as the large man had decided it was necessary to have a heart to heat with his – uh – heart?
"But what can I do; that's not an easy request," Fitzgibbon pleaded at his chest.
He paced as he spoke; now turning his back to Wade's position, "just give me more time – that's all I need!" He threw his hands up in frustration, immediately flinching afterward as if stung by something.
"Yes, yes, forgive me, master; I will do as you wish!"
Deadpool watched, intrigued and faintly amused. Goshie's spiritual leader, shaking slightly, pulled his shirt over his head, revealing a strand of ivory beads partially obscured by a pelt of coarse, black hair and assumed his customary meditative position on the floor.
When he'd, at last, arisen, the swami prepared for sleep, as always, with the prayer beads hanging round his neck. Deadpool was not in the least bit deterred by the string's location; he felt it added the tiniest bit of challenge to an otherwise lame assignment. After singing "Lady Marmalade" three times over in his head (which he'd discovered was precisely the same amount of time it took for Fitzgibbon to fall asleep every night) Deadpool crept soundlessly out of hiding.
'What's with this glorified costume jewelry anyway,' mused the mercenary, eying the prize draped over the sleeping man's sweaty chest. This was far too easy; there must be some catch to this bogus burglary that he'd missed so far – when was the other shoe going to drop? Was this some kind of trap; was he on a hidden camera show? Deadpool couldn't decide whether to be anxious or excited, but one thing was certain: he was decked in over twenty assorted weapons at the moment, and – by cracky – he was getting that necklace.
Approaching the sleeping swami, he hovered for a few moments – every muscle tensed in preparation for an ambush.
…Nothing.
His gloved hand slowly took hold of the strand, lifting it ever so slightly, then a little bit more. Gradually, he had them completely off the slumberer's chest and was working them over his head.
At last, the beads were free and the merc lifted them up for closer examination. A single hair that had escaped Fitzgibbon's scalp dangled momentarily from the string before dropping delicately back onto the same man's face. Suddenly, a pair of muddy green eyes flew open to behold the masked mercenary clutching the pearly strand.
Deadpool had just enough time to reach for the serrated blade on his hip than he felt his entire head being crushed like a melon between a pair of bear-like hands. A moment later, his skull was hammered against something that must have been rock, and everything went a little hazy.
Tokyo…
The evening was cool outside the heated cab where Mr. Taro Suzuki's gaze drifted absently over his newspaper. Tossing it aside, he glanced back at his watch: what seemed to be the passing of thirty minutes turned out to be only fifteen. The aging man stifled an impatient sigh – soon all his waiting and planning would pay off, he reminded himself.
A large red maple leaf from one of the park's nearby trees skittered across the cab's windshield and posted itself before his face like a gaudy, paper flyer. He spared it a moody glance before checking his surroundings once again for some sign of the individual he was scheduled to meet any minute now.
To pass the time, he allowed his thoughts to dwell on the power that would soon be in his possession – he'd only a couple loose ends to tie up, and that would be taken care of just as soon as the delivery boy arrived.
There was a clacking of heels on pavement and Suzuki (leaping back into the present) glanced up expectantly, only to see a woman striding briskly past him toward the subway.
The anticipation was killing him. Time seemed to stand still; even the congested city was bizarrely silent. Just then, an abrupt wind swept past, taking with it the obstruction on his windshield; in its place, a large man stood wrapped in a trench coat, leering in.
After the initial shock of seeing a three hundred pound man appear out of thin air, Mr. Suzuki quickly pulled himself together and stepped out to greet the mercenary he'd hired.
"Mr. Deadpool, I presume," he said in perfect English, putting out his hand.
"What gave it away," grinned the sumo wrestler who shook it, "my rugged good looks?"
The cab driver returned the smile coolly, "Just a wild guess; have you the item?"
"I have," returned Deadpool, "and let me tell you – the good swami put up quite a fight for it! The guy's got a skull harder than comrade Colossus – trust me, I speak from experience," he briefly flashed back to the earlier head-butt that'd nearly put him out of action, "fortunately, there's more than one use for an incense holder – which he'll probably have to get surgically removed, and even then he may never walk the same again."
"Very good, then you had no problems?"
"No severed body parts: always a plus, but somehow I think you're more interested in this than you are about me." Deadpool reached inside his trench coat and brought out the string of pale beads, holding them alluringly out to Suzuki, "Just like I'm more interested in getting the rest of my payment."
The older man's smile wavered only for a second before he replied silkily, "You will most certainly receive it." Without another word, he stepped to the back of his cab and pulled a brief case from the trunk, setting it nonchalantly on the hood before the deceptively hefty man.
Deadpool popped open the case to reveal many neatly stacked yen notes inside, "Hmm, I likes."
"And now if you please," Mr. Suzuki held out his hand for the beads.
"Huh," the sumo wrestler/merc looked up from his money distractedly. "Oh right; here you go," he replied, carelessly tossing the beads in the other man's direction.
A flustered Suzuki caught them.
"Well," Deadpool hoisted the brief case under his arm, "it's been a pleasure doing business with you, Mr. Suzuki – and hey – when I decide to buy a new bike I'll definitely keep you in mind." With that, the disguised merc turned to go.
"Just a moment," called Suzuki after him.
"Eh," the other turned to see the cab driver wearing the strange beads. He instantly began feeling lightheaded.
"I'm afraid I can't allow you to leave now. After so easily retrieving my beads from that back water yoga instructor, you may be just enough of a threat to take them from me as well."
The mercenary pressed the image inducer on his belt, immediately returning to normal appearance. Towering over the Japanese man, he leaned down menacingly. "First of all," he pointed a gloved finger in Suzuki's face, "you couldn't stop me from leaving if you tried, and secondly, what would I want with your grandma's old pearls –they wouldn't go with any of my outfits anyway!"
Mr. Suzuki laughed shortly, "You're wrong about the first part, at least: I can stop you – and that's exactly what I'm doing; besides, I need someone to test the limit of my abilities on – and who better than a homicidal low life such as yourself? I would be doing society a favor if I killed you."
"Why you little," Deadpool reached out to put his hand around Suzuki's throat, but somehow his arms felt like they weighed a ton each, and his fingers slid harmlessly off the slight man's shoulders.
The mercenary now found it difficult to even stand – arduously fighting off an overwhelming desire to lie down.
"Is this what you were trying to do," inquired the middle aged man, socking him squarely in the gut.
Deadpool went down like a load of bricks, gasping in ragged breaths.
"Okay nice trick – now what the crap is going on," wheezed the doubled over Wade.
"What's going on, Mr. Deadpool," the other informed him, "is that I am sucking out your essence to feed the beads' power. Fitzgibbon has already helped things along with all the energy given off by those dwelling at his ashram; however he could never hope to master the full capabilities of such an artifact.
"The truth is that I am their rightful owner considering that my ancestor was the first possessor of the beads, and I am the most fit to wield them."
By now, Wade had struggled to his knees and was attempting to stand.
"Extraordinary," remarked the other as he observed the heavily muscled man's obstinate refusal to stay down, "but you can't resist forever."
"Shame on you Suzie," scolded the merc, "if your granny knew what use you were putting her good pearls to she'd come out of her grave right now and flatten your pointed head with a rolling pin!"
The remark got no response except, if possible, an increase in the amount of energy being sucked out of Deadpool.
"Ooh, touchy subject I see – you know there's something rather Freudian about a guy who gets his jollies from wearing his grandma's old paraphernalia."
With all the strength he could muster, Wade brushed a hand against his belt, triggering a small dagger which shot out and buried itself halfway into Taro Suzuki's thigh. The attack caught the diminutive man off guard long enough for Deadpool to produce a handgun with silencer, which he rapidly fired off a couple times before he finally collapsed.
The first bullet only grazed Suzuki's hip, and he'd dodged the second one all together. He was now busy working the knife out of his leg, cursing quietly in his native Japanese as it, at last, pulled free. He momentarily regarded the fallen mercenary – he'd no idea the man would put up such a fight, but the power he'd gleaned from him was indeed great – certainly he was dead by now. Suzuki began to check for any energy remaining in the man when a strange, yet familiar voice spoke in his head.
Watch your back!
Suzuki whirled around in time to descry a pair of yellow eyes glinting at him from the willow tree he'd parked beneath. As soon as the creature was spotted it leapt from its hiding place at him.
"Iron Reaver," a claw ripped through his abdomen, "soul stealer!" The cab driver was thrown like a rag doll from the hill, into the park below.
Taro Suzuki lay prone on the grass for several moments, assessing his damage. Mercifully, the beads around his neck were already sending out their healing power to his damaged tissue. Above, he could feel the creature gathering strength to strike again – he had to act quickly.
The figure, white hair flying like a banner behind it, traced a swooping arc in the starry sky toward him. Suzuki automatically raised his hands, feeling for the first time the warm tingling energy shoot through his arms and from his fingertips. Now it was the airborne monster that was hurled backward.
There was a dull thud in the distance, then silence. The older man got quickly to his feet, eager to take his leave – it was too soon to tax the bead's tentative strength. Something, however, caught his attention, a new presence. His night-adjusted eyes registered a blurry white form several feet away.
Upon approach he found what appeared to be a young girl lying unconscious on the grass. A strange invigoration hovered around her.
This girl possesses enormous spiritual power – we could feed extensively upon her essence.
"I will take her with me, then," replied Suzuki, lifting the young woman into his arms. Without waking, she shuddered violently at his touch, as though their contact hurt her. 'Perhaps her soul is especially sensitive and she was affected by the outpouring of power I just exerted when I consumed the hit man's strength – in which case she is to be absorbed slowly and gradually in order for me to gain her full potency.'
Go quickly the beads admonished him lest the hanyou that's protecting her catch you; you must take to the air as soon as possible.
"Where shall I go," he asked, obediently scurrying up the hill to his car.
I will lead you. the voice promised simply.