[M] A Gloomy Town

[Deadpool]

“Y-youre supposed to be dead,” Gingy mustered out. With the back of his free hand, he wiped away a smear of icing from under his eye, gritting a toothless mouth as his breathing softened. He pushed off of the wall and found his balance.

”Supposed to be dead,” the mercenary scoffed as he chuckled. ”Been a while since I heard that line.”

Wait, wait, wait. How is that even possible—the gritting a toothless mouth part?

Gingy’s gritty face soured into one of perplexity. “Did you just talk to the ceiling?”

”What?” Deadpool rested the staff against his shoulder and widened an eye. ”What are you talking about, cookieboy?”

“You just looked up at the ceiling and said ‘Wait, wait, wait. How is that even possible—the gritting a toothless mouth part?’” His eyes narrowed into almost slits. “What are you?”

”An editor’s worst nightmare, that’s what I am.”

The mercenary overhanded the staff to Gingy—it bounced off of the wall before rattling onto the floor—and watched as the pastry’s eyes raced back and forth (at Deadpool, at the staff, repeating constantly). It was easy to read the pastry’s mind—like a book—and he could tell that Gingy was seriously considering another attack.

”Go ahead, bust a move,” Deadpool dared, reaching a hand back over his shoulder to curl a couple of fingers around the hilt of one of his katana. ”I know what you’re thinking about.” Slowly, he wrapped his thumb around.

Gingy’s eyes slowed, but still shifted between his staff and the mercenary. “If I can grab my staff off of you, and hit you with it—that fast—, what makes your bitchass think you can stop me?”

”You can go ahead then, and try to thump me, and probably die; or you can hear me out, like you shoulda done to begin with.” Ching!! the base of his katana screamed free from the sheath. ”Trust me when I say this, I’ll cut you up like some bad dope. On a Tuesday.”

After a subsequent snicker, the two shared a moment of silence. Deadpool’s eyes were locked onto Gingy, analyzing his every move—down to the faint rise in his naked belly from breathing; there was no way in hell the mercenary was going to be caught off-guard again. He tightened his grip on his katana, even adding another finger. And with a raspy whistle, the blade gradually retracted some from its sheath.

Gingy trembled a hand out towards the staff as if to pick it up, but hesitated, and brought his hand back to his body. He was beginning to mull over his options more; a drop of sweat slithered down the Dick, passing through the ‘D’ and a ‘=’ mark on his forehead. He focused his attention onto the mercenary, and the mercenary alone. “So, what now then?”

Deadpool had made a career out of murdering people (and took great joy from it) in his own dimension; Omniverse was different, however. The knowledge learned the night before revealed that a trustworthy partner was a valuable asset. Especially with his Healing Factor mitigated to a piece of shit.