(Pre-Show) The Lobby

[Deadpool]

The anchorman and his crew were beginning to settle at the far end of the lobby. Behind them, a squad of uniformed men and women—gray jumpsuits with matching caps—scurried around to set up a small stage.

The Lead Anchorman of KVWN channel 4(Deadpool remembered from the movie) Ron Burgundy straightened his tie and pushed his mustache hair into alignment with a couple swipes of the tongue.

“We’re gonna be rolling in a few minutes, Ron,” the cameraman said as he kneeled down and perched the camera on his shoulder.

“Rrrrroger Rrrrrabit had the hhhabit of eeeating caaaactiiiii for prrraaactice.” Ron said, reciting one of his articulation exercises. “Someone hand me a quick glass of scotch. I need it to get my voice clear—to say my ’ph’ sounds and correctly pronounce silent letters.” A crewmember hurried over and handed him a glass; with a gulp, Ron downed it and handed it back to him. “That’s better.” He smacked his lips a few times and combed a hand through his brown hair. “How much time?”

“Ten to fifteen seconds, Ron,” the cameraman replied. As he went to look back at his monitor a firm finger tapped him on the shoulder opposite of the camera.

* * * * * *

“Hola!” Deadpool said.

The cameraman’s head whipped over his shoulder and peered at the mercenary; though his brown eyes originally capsuled anger, the emotion quickly dissolved into confusion as he glanced over at the pastry sitting on the mercenary’s shoulder. “Can I help you with anything?”

”I want an interview with that guy,” Deadpool replied, pointing over at the anchorman.

Lead Anchorman. Don’t forget it again. This man is a fucking legend.

“We’ve been taking interviews all day.” The cameraman’s voice was tired, but after a sigh he said, “Alright, we can get another one in before we cover the staged event coming up.” He looked back forward and greeted Ron Burgundy’s watching eyes with his own. “That cool with you, Ron?”

“Sure, why not?” the lead anchorman replied with a voice more exuberant than the cameraman’s. “I haven’t interviewed many men in latex fetish outfits today, and none with a cookie. Send them over.”

“You heard em’.” The cameraman refocused on the monitor on his camera. “Start it quick—we’re on in ten.”

The mercenary proceeded around the kneeling cameraman and over to Ron Burgundy, to stand at the lead anchorman’s left. The cameraman raised three fingers and then began to fold them. “Three . . . two . . . one!” He threw his remaining finger towards Ron and the show was on.

“Greetings, from Omniverse News Network,” the Ron declared into the camera. “As always, I’m Ron Burgundy.” A charming smile curved his lips under his mustache. “Once I again, I come to you live from the Danteverse. We’re now here by the entrance to the barracks, where a stage is being set up for something.” He looked over his right shoulder at the constructing stage and paused, then saying. “My guess is some type of dance-off event, or maybe a talent show? Either way, it looks like it will be loads of fun.”

Deadpool wrapped his arms around his chest. Come on, Bryan is gonna be posting his little ‘Retane makes Lobby happy again’ post sometime today, and I’m supposed to have a cameo in it, he thought, while his foot began to tap against the marble floor. Patience was never the mercenary’s strong suit. If it were, he never wore it.

But just before Deadpool’s impatience boiled over into words, Ron glanced back at the camera, striking another charming smile, and then looked over at the mercenary. “In the meantime, we have another prospective contestant here. Why don’t you tell the viewers a little about yourself? “

Finally. As the mercenary’s eyes drifted over to the camera’s lens, he extended a thumbs up. ”I’m Deadpool, and this guy on my shoulder is Gingy. I like to break the fourth wall and make quip remarks.”

“You make stupid remarks,” Gingy interjected in a mutter. “Like the one you just made.”

“So what brings you here, Deadpool? Is it the competition, the free liquor (I wouldn’t blame you), or just the festivities in general?”

”I just like adventure,” Deadpool replied. “Anything I can acquire Omnillium from. “[/color]

“Fair enough,” Ron responded. “With the amount of Omnillium Karl possesses you can make a whole warehouse of scotch. Good scotch. The type you could dip your cookie friend into and enjoy, while enjoying a nice bathing water in the islands of Italy. “

A breezy feeling crept up the mercenary’s back; Ron Burgundy trailed off topic as much in the Omniverse as he did in his movie. It was a pleasant, alleviating feeling. Dipping Gingy into a glass of scotch did come across as a wise idea, but he knew his gingerbread friend would beg to differ. He even paused for a moment to allow Gingy to interject again, but he didn’t. ”Yup!”

“So, I’ve always wondered . . .” Ron began. His lips bowed into a pondering frown, and his cleft dug deeper into the center of his chin. “Why do so many wear masks? You should know, since you wear a mask yourself.”

”Well, I guess most comic book guys do it to ‘conceal their identities’,” Deadpool replied, throwing up finger quotes. ”I do it because my face—and entire body—is covered in tumors. It’s a long story, but yeah.”

“Interesting,” Ron replied as his brow furrowed. “Would you be willing to show the public?”

Deadpool’s face looked like an ass check riddled with a nasty rash. It was one of his only insecurities. So much so he often had sex with the mask on. But he only had one chance to make Ron Burgundy remember who he was, so he took the plunge and reached a hand back to clench the rear of his mask. ”I guess so,” he replied in a shriveling voice as he peeled his mask over his cranium and from his face.

The cameraman almost let his expensive equipment slid off of his shoulder, but immediately grabbed caught it under the lens with his free hand. Ron’s mouth slowly retracted from the curtaining of his lips as his eyes exploded open.

The lead anchorman went to speak, stumbled over his thoughts, but then found the words to say: “I’m not going to lie to you . . . your face looks like a herpe’d asshole.” His adam’s apple pulled high into his throat then fell back into place. “I wish there was another way I could put it, for the sake of masses watching, but I . . . I just can’t. It looks like your face was crushed by a monster truck tire, splintering with glass.”

The words sank further into the mercenary than his katana did. Ron Burgundy was one of his idols, and he just roasted him like a turkey. His head fell past his clavicle as the lead anchorman finished talking, and before Ron could ask another question, he pulled his mask back over his head. ”Yeah, I know. Anyway, I have to go to the bathroom.”His words were bullshit—just the best excuse the mercenary could conjure up on the fly to escape the rest of the interview.

Ron stared at the Deadpool and nodded. “A trip to the ole porcelain throne.” He looked back at the camera and found a way to switch attention back on the looming event.”

“Hey, what’re you doing?” Gingy asked as Deadpool began to walk away. “I wanted to answer a few questions too.”

”Fuck it, dude. Post is long enough anyway.”


Fuck Ron Burgundy. That's why his second movie was garbage.