The bunch was huddled in camp once more.
There was no fire this time, because it was raining. The dreary blankets of clouds cast a dark aura on the little camp. No one was in good spirits.
Except, of course, Deadpool.
The mercenary was sharpening his swords while singing 'rock-a-bye-baby'. Iroh was glumly sipping some cold tea he'd made before the rain. He had a great fear of cold tea. Toph was bored and was trying to sleep on the sheet spread on the muddy ground with another sheet stretched on the tree branches above her to ward off the rain.
"Shut up, Deadpool," yelled Toph, trying to stuff clods of mud in her ears.
Deadpool, grinned through his mask. "Ooh. Someone's touchy… have a Tophee! Get it? Toph? Toffee?" He rolled in the mud, laughing madly.
"Argh!" She growled, smacking her head on the ground. She couldn't even smack him with rocks, now in soggy earth.
A few minutes later, the rain stopped. Iroh looked west and said, "Black clouds on the horizon. There is yet more rain to come."
"It's rainy, rainy, RAINY DAY!" screeched Deadpool in a soprano that made even Iroh wince. Toph continued to try and stuff leaves and mud into her ears.
Ten minutes passed. Deadpool was still murmuring the tune of some song, while Toph had finally nodded off.
Iroh got up, an approached the mad merc. "Come with me."
Deadpool stabbed a finger at Iroh, "Not unless you have ice-cream, Chimichangas and hot babes."
"We need to talk, Deadpool." Said Iroh more forcefully.
Deadpool scratched his chin. "Is it The Talk? You know, the one about puberty? Yeah, I had that one, but it was with a sea lion, as I recall…"
Iroh grabbed Deadpool and dragged him away.
"No Bella! Run! Save yourself! I'm a big sparkly vampire, don't worry about me! Although I did die in my last movie as Cedric Diggory, but that was J.K. Rowling's fault! Run! Saved the Pandas! I will be the Hokage! Force be with you!" Cried Deadpool as he was dragged away.
Iroh finally dumped the madman on a pile of leaves, before sitting in front of him cross-legged.
Deadpool raised his hands in a mystic gesture. "Namaste, Master! Let us unveil the secrets of all existence! Let us start by cursing the mad fanfic writer who thought it possible for an old man to drag me away like kitten litter!"
"We must talk, Deadpool. About who- or what- you are." Said Iroh sternly.
"Well, that just hurts." Said Deadpool, all traces of humor gone.
Iroh and Deadpool looked at each other. A minute. Two minutes. Three.
"Fine." Said Deadpool, before jumping up in a ballet pose.
"I wasn't always a badass bad-guy killer. When it all started, Deadpool was no more than a Babypool. But then, he wasn't born with that name, and someone thought it was a good idea to call him-"
"Wade."
The baby looked up, and chortled.
The woman smiled, but she was in no good shape. Her skin was bleached white, her eyes had bags below them. Her hair had been shaved off.
Amanda Wilson was dying. Everyone knew it. She was in the final stages of her cancer. As she kissed her 6 month old baby, the doctor sighed heavily. This was when being a doctor weighed so heavily on him. When he was so helpless. When he could do nothing to ease the pain, the suffering.
Next to her bed stood a man, the father and husband. His eyes were red, his appearance shabby. He looked as bad as his wife.
Amanda looked at her husband, her smile sad. "Call him Wade, my dear. When you miss me, look at him. I'll be right there."
The man clutched her hand. "Don't say that. Nothing will happen, love. You… you…" He broke down into sobs.
"Do not worry, William." She said softly. "I will be with you always. I will be in you. I will be in our son."
The man nodded painfully, as though the slight movement hurt him.
Many years later. Wade stood at his father's grave.
Wade had grown up, though it was obvious. Dirty blonde hair, rosy cheeks, same blue eyes. He looked at the grave of the man who had brought so much misery to him.
His wife's death had been too much for William Wilson. Driven mentally unstable, he remained normal among people, but within his own home, he displayed animal aggressiveness at his own son. The son that, in his mind, represented the downfall of his greatest love.
He'd always been a drinker, but he became a full time drunk after his wife's death. Eventually, so many years later, he died in a bar brawl. Three wine bottles smashed against his skull. Beaten to pulp. Stabbed from a dagger.
Wade reached for a bottle, sprinkling its contents on the grave. He then threw a lighter on it.
Then one hour later, half of the graveyard was in flames, and one kid named Wade Wilson was missing.
Wade Wilson coughed hard.
He was a fresh twenty five years of age, but his life was turning very, very fast. Because of one word.
Cancer.
His mother's cancer was manifesting in him, and he was showing signs. His skin had a yellowish, pale cast, and he felt a persistant pain gnawing inside him.
"Well Wade?" Asked Stryker, smiling as he rubbed his hands. "Do you accept?"
Wade leveled his bloodshot eyes at the scientist. "Why do you care, Stryker? You a fan of my butt, too? A lot of chicks tell me how cute it is. You another fan girl?"
Stryker's jaw froze. "Ignoring your usual pathetic humor, simply put, I care because you are an investment. And you owe me. How many other people would offer you a job anything other than a lowly grunt with your cancer? Hm?"
Wade's eyes narrowed. "Oh, look who's calling favors. You forgot how I saved your butt from those assassins in Nigeria? Brought you seventy five mutants to perform your sick experiments on? Sneaked into Sinestro's lab to bring you genetic samples of every one of his experiments?"
Stryker punched the table. "Damn it, Wade! I'm offering you your last chance of survival here!"
"What are the odds of success, doc?" Asked Wade, as he looked at his hands.
Stryker sighed. "Less, but-"
"How much?"
"Forty one percent."
Wade closed his eyes. Opening them, he said,
"Let's do it."
Silence. Iroh and Deadpool stood there, both unblinking. It was raining again.
"Then what?" Asked Iroh.
Deadpool shrugged. "They did stuff to me. They killed Wade. When I opened my eyes, I was someone else. Something else. I was this." He said, taking off his mask.
Iroh stifled a gasp.
His entire face was covered in wrinkles, scabs and scars. He had not a single hair on him. The only thing that remained of his humanity, of the man he once was, were his eyes. A lovely, bright blue. A human blue. Wade's blue.
"Nice, huh?" Asked Deadpool, chuckling darkly. "I do look like Ryan Reynolds, eh? If good ol' Ryan had his skin sawed off and replaced with a crushed kebab."
Iroh blinked. "I'm sorry."
"No problem, old man. If had the choice to have anything, I'd say damn my face! Ponies all the way." He grinned crookedly, before putting his mask back on.
"Now, I'm gonna wake up Sugarcakes! TO THE MOON!" He yelled, walking back to the camp.
Iroh stood there, like always. Now he knew what Deadpool hid. Now he knew what he was, who he was. Now he knew why he was mad.
He wished he didn't.