Day One: Part 1

[Deadpool]

Well, that was fun. I got my first little taste of what Alex has in store for me, and it wasn’t all that bad. Even got to have a cross-genre fight—a Marvel character using a Street Fighter move against a Dragonball Z character!


The mercenary’s encounter with the green man—Namekian, he’s a Namekian—rewarded him with stinging gashes all over his visage, which only intensified as the face of a midnight breeze spilled over the distant mountain range and rolled into the plains he made camp in.

Over in the shrubbery between a pair of outlying trees, all that remained of Deadpool’s scuffle with the green man was a splatter of purple blood across a few vines and leaves. But no body, and without a body, the mercenary knew the green man lurked somewhere close by.

In the distance, the roof of a building peaked over a shallow hill. It was too far out of sight to determine what its purpose was on the island (Deadpool presumed just about everything on the island was merely for role-playing fodder), but it was there, and if the green man had any form of intelligence, he would have headed in that direction.



I know what the building is over the hill, but for the sake of not getting jumped by a Guu-sized group, I’m gonna keep that information to meself. I’m not Deadpony (hi Deadpony!!!!). I’m not just gonna blabber out your location. We’re in this together, Baron.



An—



No, don’t progress the story yet! Ya’know, it wouldn’t hurt you to talk back sometimes. Alex did it in the face-2-face, so why can’t you ever talk to me sometimes?



Okay, fuck you too then. I should just go ahead and reveal our weapon! IT’S _________________ . . .



I’m not that stupid.



And if Deadpool were healthy, he would have followed; his encounter with the green man took its toll on him, and while his mercenary instincts told him to pursue, his body wrestled with the notion, eventually pinning it to the canvas. The collar (courtesy of Karl Jak—that guy) he received in the barracks worked wonders against his episodes of vertigo, but did little to diminish his swelling sense of fatigue, which had been patiently subduing him since his arrival to the Plush Inn.

The fact was, Deadpool’s cancer had reactivated. He tried to deny it as long as he could, but he knew it to be true. His growing feeling of fatigue emerged after he used his Healing Factor to recover the lacerated throat he received from Gingy’s attack in the Moors. Since then, his body had slowly forsaken him, and he knew it would only progress further.

Start fresh tomorrow, Deadpool concluded, not because he wanted to, but because he had to. If he chose to travel now he would only make it a couple of football fields before falling facedown, in a ditch somewhere; camping out the rest of the night and catching up on a pile of z’s was his best option. He would head out tomorrow, at the crack of dawn, around 0600 hours.

0600 hours . . . why did it sound familiar?

Then he remembered the host, Karl Jak, proclaiming an ominous event—an item drop near the school, at 0600 hours (which was odd, since Karl did not seem like the type to have a military background)—and instantly shoved a hand into the bag sitting next to him, pulling out his map of the island. Good, nowhere near me.Deadpool only gave the map a cursory glanced before rolling it up and stuffing it back into his bag. He breathed deep and exhaled a huge sigh of relief. In his current condition, the last thing he needed was an orgy of Primes right next door.