SORRY 'BOUT THE LONG WAIT, FOLKS. TRYING TO LEARN PROGRAMMING ON MY OWN, AND TRULY FORGOT ABOUT MY LITTLE TALE HERE. ANYWAYS, LOYAL READERS (IF THERE ARE ANY) GIVE ME REVIEWS! I REALLY NEED THEM!

They were back in the village. With most of the soldiers back, the village could replace its former corrupt and now dead guardsmen. And with the family itself back, there was quite a celebration going on.

In the corner of it all sat Deadpool. He was ignoring the festivities, scratching away at some sort of bloodstained journal with a pen. The journal was something Deadpool held close to his heart. This bundle of papers was more dear to him than his swords, and that was saying a lot.

Even as he scribbled something, let's see some of the earlier entries. These were not written by his hand, but by another- a scientist, it seemed.

Day 15:

Wade Wilson has retained remarkable amounts of patience and stoic acceptance to the pain throughout the procedure. I must say, it is unnerving to see him as still as a mask when he is probably feeling insanely obscene amounts to pain, and personally, I think he's gone mad. But we have to keep going- the Department has high hopes for Mr. Wilson.

Let us skip a few entries:

Day 21:

As I feared, Mr. Wade has lost his sanity. He grumbles all day about a, and I quote, "Mad fanfic writer getting all the story muddled". Also, his skin deformation has been halted, but too late, I fear. He is quite a horror to behold. But despite his ramblings, I still see intelligence in those eyes. I see cunning there. It is almost disturbing. He has been given his former codename 'Deadpool'. I heard Walter say it was because there was 'dead pool' on how long he would live back in the early days when his cancer was getting the best of Mr. Wilson, or Deadpool. Amanda suggested it was because he worked as an assassin in Japan and used to leave his victims dead in a large pool of blood. Whatever the case, he will soon be up to testing.

Another skip is in order- a long one this time:

I dont have time. HE is after me I cn;t even sparwe time proofreading. Everything was going so well but something went wrong o was there nohing right? Deadpool is hunting us. Amanda and Walter are dead. It's worse thenwhen Weapon X tried to escape he didn't takea jo y from owur pain! Now he's closing in an di can do nohing but wait… oh nosd hes com0oing

This is Wade. Wade Wilson. The Mercenary. And let me tell you, the only reason I'm writing this well, is because there is someone else writing me. Someone writing about me writing. Hehe. It's almost as cool as Chimichangas. Now this here diary will be mine by rights of 'finder's keepers' or is it 'killer's keepers'? I did kill that round ass lab coat, and it's gonna take time to dry the diary of the blood. Ah well. A reminder, then.

After this, there was no interesting entry, most describing Mexican food and women. Guess who wrote them. The one he was writing right now, though was of value. Which is why…

"He won't tell you what I'm writing. Neither will I, because I don't know what I'm writing either. Technically, it's the Supreme Writer who's writing this all up, and since he ain't writing what I'm writing, you can't read what I'm writing, and as per law of suspense, I don't know what I'm writing either, but I'll just refuse to admit it and say I don't want to tell you, which is also a lie, but can't have everything, can ya? " Said Deadpool as he wrote.

"Ahem."

Deadpool looked up to see Iroh standing there. "Who were you talking to?"

Deadpool shrugged. "The readers. Gotta tell 'em what's going on, the narrator depends on me to make things… interesting."

Iroh looked at him blankly.

Deadpool's masked eyes dripped tears. "No-one gets me…" He turned away from Iroh with loud, dramatic sobs.

Iroh laughed. "I brought you some tea, my friend." He held up a cup of tea as if it was gold- for Iroh, it was probably more precious.

Deadpool sniffed. "For me?"

"Yes, for you."

Deadpool snatched the cup, somehow not spilling the tea, and revealed his mouth by pulling up his mask, sipping the hot tea. "Tastes like a cat's piss. Maybe worse." He said casually.

Normally, this would have fired Iroh into battle mode, but now he was staring at the deformed, wrinkled scabs of skin around Deadpool's lips.

"What happened to you?" Iroh whispered.

Deadpool shrugged. "It was a long time ago." He didn't say anything else.

Iroh didn't push. If the normally hyperactive mercenary was not talking, it was best not to make him talk. Anyways, a man's past was his own business, as Iroh knew too well. His own past wasn't so florid- he had done many things, out of which many he still regretted.

"Who is your nephew?" Said Deadpool suddenly.

Now it was Iroh's turn to be defensive. What to tell this man? Was he some sort of spy?

Then for some inexplicable reason, he felt obliged to speak the truth. "You know the man named Zuko who passed through this village some time ago?"

"Fire nation prince, badass guy, scarred, saved a family but still wasn't trusted Zuko?"

Iroh nodded.

"He has your nephew?"

Iroh laughed out of surprise. "No, he is my nephew."

Suddenly, in a blur of red, Deadpool was behind him, with one blade at Iroh's neck, the other at his back.

"Lemme get this straight," Said, no, growled Deadpool , "You are the prince's uncle."

Iroh grunted in affirmative.

"And thus you are the brother of the man responsible for still waging this war?"

He grunted again.

"Then why don't I kill you right now?"

"Because we do not share his ideals. We are fugitives of the fire nation."

"Good 'nuff for me!" Yelled Deadpool cheerily, suddenly back in front of Iroh, sheathing his swords. "Now, let me drink the rest of this cat piss you call tea, and then we can go, kick ass, take names, and your nephew, and have a goody good time after the family reunion! Huh, huh, whaddya say Yoda?"

He is in remarkable spirits for a man who was tense and about to take my life a second ago, thought Iroh, There is more to you than meets the eyes, Mister Deadpool…