Chapter 2:

The power must have gone out sometime during the night, seeing as the little alarm clock that had never gone off was flashing steadily. It said 10:55 A.M., but it was dark out, so Wade stood and huffed angrily.

Why are you even getting up? Not like you have anywhere to be.

"True, but this flashing is driving me crazy…" Wade said, staggering groggily to the clock and gnashing buttons blindly.

Nah, you're about as bad a crazy gets.

"And that makes me feel so much better." He was obviously perturbed already, perhaps from sleep deprivation, perhaps because of the cancerous masses under his flesh.

You never do know.

Finally, the clock was in his proper reach, and he pressed the button that made it possible to set the time.

"What time is it?" Wade asked, glancing around for some form of a clock to go off of. The kitchen timer had long ago burnt out, and Wade couldn't remember if he even had any watches, not to mention where they could be found.

How am I supposed to know?

How's about you check the phone.

Good idea. And the microwave.

"The microwave is plugged into the wall, you idiot." Hissed the scarred man, that, since he was already up, was pulling his mask over his eyes.

"Gotta look cool while I search for that darn cell phone."

You know it.

"You shut up. I can make stupid, uncalled-for comments all on my own, thank you."

The phone is in that pile of newspapers over there.

"See? I knew it was somewhere in this apartment."

Just then, there was a muffled ringing, and Wade, who - for all intensive purposes - was Deadpool in his underwear, dug through the pile of newspapers previously pointed out to him. There he found it, flashing a "Restricted Number" into his eyes. Squinting, the masked man pressed the green button and put the phone to his ear.

"Is this Deadpool?" Asked a man that sounded like a goon. Deadpool nodded, thinking it a funny prank to pull. The bold text also thought it was very humorous.

"Hello? Anybody there?" The stranger asked again, and Wade sighed.

"Only if you stop asking yes-or-no questions." He said after a short pause.

"What?" The goon asked in reply.

"Thank you. What do you want?" Now, with a bit more scratch to his voice, Deadpool managed to get a strange look from the calling man.

You assume.

What?

You weren't there. How would you know?

But I was there.

How can you be both here and there?

Question me again, I'll put you in the Box.

Anyways:

"Uhm… I'm calling you because of your special skills. I need you to make someone disappear like you were the one who did it. Understand?"

"You want me to take someone, and the entire building they're in, out."

"Precisely."

"Do you want to meet, or should we talk this over where the feds can hear it?"

"Come to the Sleeping Crow and talk to a waitress named Alice. She'll deposit your payment and tell you all of the details."

There was a click, then the other line was dead.

"Let's go. Maybe this 'Alice' is hot."

I have a feeling you're never going to meet her.

"Christ, don't be such a pessimist."

After Deadpool had showered and brushed his teeth, he dressed in his usual black-and-red attire and headed out the door. It was a chilly night with the moon just poking faintly out from behind the city smog. Somewhere a car honked, somewhere else a cat hissed. Just as always. Wade smiled like a child and skipped -

"What the Hell happened to my vehicle? I hope I'm not walking for the rest of this thing…"

- Just as merrily to The Sleeping Crow, a bar he knew well enough to get to on foot.

Just then, an alleyway he had walked past lit up, and Deadpool stopped in his tracks, walked backwards a few steps, then peered into the once-glowing space.

There a man slouched, leaning against a wall and writhing in pain. He was faced away from Wade, but looked as though he had been holding something, so the mercenary stepped, cautiously and with a gun at the ready, towards the heaving male.

"Hey, are you-"

"Don't touch me!" He shouted, and Deadpool backed away quickly.

There was a long silence that fell over the two, then the writhing man seemed to regain his composure.

"I told it to take me to Superman." Said the stranger, and he straightened out and turned towards Deadpool.

"Sorry, I don't know of anybody named Superman. You should return it. You got a warranty, right?"

Clever, what you did there.

"I know, right?"

"Can you fight?" The stranger looked at the ground, and Wade couldn't get a good look at him.

"Sure can." Deadpool barked almost defensively. "Wouldn't be wearin' the spandex if I couldn't."

"Let's go, then." Said the stranger, and he grabbed onto Deadpool's shoulder, holding his left arm into the air. A pained expression went over his face, and they were gone.