Oh, hey there.
I know, I know, you're probably a bit confused right now. You're probably...
I know, I know, you're probably a bit confused right now. You're probably...
The Deadpool Quest
- Thread starter Telamon
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User Total Telamon 2
Part the First, In which I, Deadpool, begin a Quest.
- Location
- Texas
Oh, hey there.
I know, I know, you're probably a bit confused right now. You're probably thinking something like "Hey, this is a Quest, why the hell is it talking to me?"
Well, my innocent little Quester, this isn't just any quest, it's The Deadpool Quest. It's got a special sexy font and everything. And if you haven't figured it out by now, I'm Deadpool, which is why you're reading this in Ryan Reynold's voice (or Nolan North's, if you're a loser who plays video games. You know who you are.)
Okay, now that we've got all of that sorted out, here's the logo. Don't worry, we'll cut to the questy bits soon.
Aren't I pretty?
The Deadpool Quest
I hope you liked that. Took five whole minutes of searching on Google.
We're switching to white now, because the GM realized an entire page of yellow hurts his eyes.
Anyhow, welcome to the greatest Quest of all time. Ever. It's gonna get a TvTropes page, fanart, fanfiction, the whole nine yards. Six seasons and a movie.
One word: Franchising. (See what the GM did with the yellow here, to enchance the internal monologue? He's a great writer, isn't he?)
Now, I know what you're thinking (Yes, I'm smarter than you, get over it). "How the flying fuck is this gonna work? The fourth wall exists for a reason!"*We're switching to white now, because the GM realized an entire page of yellow hurts his eyes.
Anyhow, welcome to the greatest Quest of all time. Ever. It's gonna get a TvTropes page, fanart, fanfiction, the whole nine yards. Six seasons and a movie.
One word: Franchising. (See what the GM did with the yellow here, to enchance the internal monologue? He's a great writer, isn't he?)
Well, you see, when the GM came up with this gimmick, he thought it through, proving he's slightly less stupid than previously imagined.
See, I do this thing where I have voices in my head, and they kind of talk to me. My friend Spidey (he says we're not friends, but what does he know?) tells me that means I'm mentally unstable, but I'm not the one who dresses up like a kinky luchador and runs around shooting his sticky white fluids all over New York.
I'm normal. I just kill people.
Anyhow, re: the voices in my head, they're you. Or rather, you're them. And your incessant bickering and babbling fits in perfectly with the rest of my mental furniture. Matches the feng shui of my headspace. So when I do my Deadpooly stuff**, you'll get to chip in from time to time and tell me what to do, and I will do it. Roughly. Most of the time. Maybe. Probably.
Point is, say the thing and I'll do the thing, or something which is at least vaguely like the thing.
Try it out now! C'mon. Say "Deadpool, do a flip."
Yes, with your lips. Your fleshy flappy mouth-bits, under your nose.
Yes, in real life. The GM felt really clever for thinking up this whole bit, and you wouldn't want to make him sad, now would you?
Did you do it? Really?
Wait, really?
Holy shit, I'm crying. You actually said it. Wow. I didn't think you would actually say it. I know you can't hear me, but I want you to know this: I'm laughing at you. You talked out loud to your computer screen.
Oh, jeez. That was good. That...that was good.
Okay, okay, I'm done.
By the way, here's a quick review on who I am, in case you who don't know and yet have read this far for some reason. Weirdo.
My name is Wade Wilson, and I'm the last child of a dead planet called Deadpoolia. When I was a child, my parents sent me into space because our planet was being destroyed by acid reflux. Through some miracle of chance, I landed on the planet Earth, where I was raised by a pair of homosexual mafia dons. Using my powers, I became Deadpool, protector of Truth, Justice, and the American Way, because with Great Power Comes Great Responsibility.
Oh, you've heard this one?
Fine, fine. The name's Wade Wilson. I was a mercenary. That means I did not-nice things to a whole lot of people. And by not-nice things, I mean I made them un-alive for money. Lots of money.
I still do that, by the way. This story doesn't exactly have a happy ending.
But then one day, I got cancer. To cure it, I left my beautiful girlfriend...or I was kidnapped...or I enrolled in a secret government program in Canada. Or...something. I don't remember. Anyhow, I was experimented on by this asshole named Francis. His name was definitely Francis. Now, Francis wanted to activate my latent mutant powers (Oh, I didn't mention I'm a mutant? Well, why should it matter? Racist.) But to do so, he had to torture me to force my mutant genes to trigger, because they could only activate in high-stress situations.
Long story short, the torture worked, and activated my special snowflake mutant power, which is super-healing. Yeah, some people get claws or laser eyes or bird wings or lizard faces (look it up), but I never have to worry about a paper cut again. Or ritual beheadings.
Oh, and it gave me perpetual cancer, made me look like a bucket of ugly, and drove me insane.
Yaaaay!
Now I operate around the world as the mercenary (see, I told you) Deadpool, killing people for money and spouting witty quips. Most of the money I make goes to pay my court fees though, because some asshole named Slade's been suing me since 1991.
TL;DR: I never shut up and I can't be killed. Good luck.
Oh, you've heard this one?
Fine, fine. The name's Wade Wilson. I was a mercenary. That means I did not-nice things to a whole lot of people. And by not-nice things, I mean I made them un-alive for money. Lots of money.
I still do that, by the way. This story doesn't exactly have a happy ending.
But then one day, I got cancer. To cure it, I left my beautiful girlfriend...or I was kidnapped...or I enrolled in a secret government program in Canada. Or...something. I don't remember. Anyhow, I was experimented on by this asshole named Francis. His name was definitely Francis. Now, Francis wanted to activate my latent mutant powers (Oh, I didn't mention I'm a mutant? Well, why should it matter? Racist.) But to do so, he had to torture me to force my mutant genes to trigger, because they could only activate in high-stress situations.
Long story short, the torture worked, and activated my special snowflake mutant power, which is super-healing. Yeah, some people get claws or laser eyes or bird wings or lizard faces (look it up), but I never have to worry about a paper cut again. Or ritual beheadings.
Oh, and it gave me perpetual cancer, made me look like a bucket of ugly, and drove me insane.
Yaaaay!
Now I operate around the world as the mercenary (see, I told you) Deadpool, killing people for money and spouting witty quips. Most of the money I make goes to pay my court fees though, because some asshole named Slade's been suing me since 1991.
TL;DR: I never shut up and I can't be killed. Good luck.
So it's time to get to the actual quest-y stuff. I live in the Marvel Universe, as many of you know, but there are a lot of 'Marvel' Universes, mainly because DC shat the bed in the 90's, and now all the cool kids are smoking the multiverse pipe. So go ahead and pick which universe we're going to carve mayhem in.
[] The MCU: Oh, aren't you original. Yes, this is the Marvel Universe from the movies. Yes, with Robert Downey Junior and Chris Evan's abs and the cool Olsen Twin. I'm not in this one on the big screen because Marvel was a slut during the 90's, and sold my movie rights to the guys who did Alvin and the Chipmunks: The Squeakuel. If you vote for this, I get to be in the same universe as Scarlet Johansson, which is just the bee's knees, but I'm gonna lose a lot of my supporting cast, like Wolverine, or the other guys no one cares about. I get to hang out with my buddy Spidey, though, which is always a plus. But he's too young to get drunk, which sucks. And I think I'm attracted to his aunt.
[] The X-Men Universe: This is the one with my movie. Y'know, the one you saw at the theaters last year with that one nerdy buddy of yours who was really upset that Cable didn't show up, and probably orgasmed during the end credits sequence. It's got all the X-Men you know and love: The blue chick who used to be Jennifer Lawrence, Sansa Stark, Captain Picard, laser eyes guy, the black lady with the lightning, the furry, magnet Gandalf, the list goes on! It's got all that awesome stuff you like, plus all my friends are here. Downside is, it's got no Spider-Man, and the timeline is crazy confusing. Pros are....oh, hell, you know what the pro is. It's got Hugh Jackman, and he made you cry in Logan.
[] Homebrew: The GM is a creative little guy, isn't he? He mixed together the MCU and the Fox movies into a nice tidy little universe, and spent an unreasonable amount of time making it all work timelinewise. Basically, you get everything from the first two options, together! But some things are changed around and moved. Things stay essentially the same, but you might run into some surprises, and I can't promise he hasn't wholesale forgotten about movies he barely watched (such as 2003's X2: X-Men United) or didn't like (such as 2003's X2: X-Men United) or just plain didn't understand (such as 2003's X2: X-Men United).
[] Blank Slate: I don't know what this holds, and neither does the GM! It's a blank slate, our tiny little corner of the universe where everything's just getting started up. The basics remain the same, but anything else is up for change! Tony Stark just built a mecha in the desert in a cave with a box of scraps, but it's anyone's guess if he still looks like RDJ. Captain America just got thawed out, and we can promise he's not a Nazi, and nothing more! Pick this option to watch the GM mangle and distort over 70 years of comic book history!
Oh, and if you haven't guessed yet, this is an M-Rated Quest.
Ask your parents first.
*Alternatively, you're thinking "Oh no, not another Telamon Quest, what's he gonna do about all the others?!" Well let me tell you, he doesn't know. It keeps him up at night. He's haunted by his past quests, but whenever he sits down to restart one, his resolve crumbles like the sugary coating on one of those weird curly cakes you get at carnivals. Don't ask him about it. He's very sensitive, and he might cry, and it'd be real awkward for everyone involved.
**Not all of it, of course. A man's gotta eat. And poop. So mainly the Deadpooly stuff where I kill people. Weird how these Quests never cover the pooping and the eating.
***Okay, so he actually did read all the back issues because he's Marvel's dirty, dirty whore. Long story short, Cap's a Nazi because the Red Skull manipulated a sentient Cosmic Cube into thinking Hydra were the good guys. The Cube changed reality so that the ultimate good guy, Captain America, was a Hydra sleeper agent. See, it's totally simple if you've been following comics obsessively for three years! Nerd.
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Part the Second, In Which I, Deadpool, Appear In A Forest And Get Shot At
- Location
- Texas
"Ooh, neat. Somewhere new. The reboots were getting old. Blank slate it is!"
The forest is vibrant, alive with the sounds of life. A small stream burbles along peacefully through the dense trees. Nearby, a deer nibbles softly at the undergrowth.
Suddenly, the sharp tang of ozone fills the air, and the forest grows eerily still. Too late, the deer rises and turns to run. The stench grows stronger, and the forest is filled with a blinding flash of light, like a hundred million bolts of lightning.
When the light fades, the stream and the deer are gone, vaporized almost instantly. A steaming crater lies in their place, smoke rolling menacingly from the scorched earth. A single red boot emerges from the smoke as the legendary mercenary Deadpool--
"The fuck is this? Are you narrating me?"
Uh...yes?
"Really? Let me have a go."
That's, uh...not how this works. I'm not sure how you would even do--
Deadpool steps from the fucking awesome crater he made just by showing up, steam hissing off of his perfect six-pack abs and gigantic, bulging crotchplate, which buckles from stress. The air around him pulses with mystery and sexual tension, and each deep breath causes his massive, head-sized pecs to heave. Think Arnold Schwarzenegger when he was Mr. Universe, but with more sex appeal.
What the hell--
He takes a slow look around, his piercing eyes impregnating the air as they swivel through it. His musk is so masculine that the trees break into heat as his gaze passes through them. As he takes a step forward, his skintight latex outfit ripples as his gigantic muscles threaten to rip it to shreds.
No. No, no, no. No.
No.
Just...no.
"Fine. Spoilsport."
Deadpool sighs heavily and looks around at the decidedly non-impregnated trees. His average-sized crotchplate makes no movement (certainly not anything that could be described as bulging), as he takes a step forward and surveys his surroundings. The sound of engines and honking horns echoes dimly from the east, and to the west he can just make out some sort of industrial building.
"Where am I, anyhow? Wait, wait, wait, don't answer that. I was an Eagle Scout, so I know how to track anything, including myself."
Deadpool stoops down and grabs some dirt from the forest floor. He mashes it to his mask and takes a long, deep sniff.
"Mmmmm. Maple sap...rich soil...and just a hint of nationally funded healthcare."
Deadpool rises to his feet, dirt clutched triumphantly in his fist.
"I'd recognize that dried deer crap anywhere. This is Canada! The Great White North! The Land of the Mounties!"
There is a soft whistling sound, and then the tree nearest to Deadpool explodes in a spray of wood and shrapnel. Moments later, the one next to it does the same.
"Huh. Don't remember--"
Deadpool jerks, cut off. A dark red stain begins to spread across the stomach of his crimson costume. He lowers his eyes towards the wound and lets out a heavy sigh. With a grunt of effort, he sticks a finger into his newest hole and digs out the offending particle. As the wound seals up, he raises the gleaming hunk of metal to his mask and sniffs deeply.
"Bullets. Definitely bullets. Y'know, is it too much to ask that I don't get shot at everywhere I go? I mean re--"
Another bullet slams into his trachea, which he winces and picks out, coughing. After a few seconds, his throat knits back together, and he resumes speaking.
"I mean really, I'm not asking for a lot. Just a few short moments of my day where lead isn't making new orfices in my supple flesh."
Another dull thud, this time in his arm. The source of the bullets grows closer, the retort of gunfire echoing in the woods.
"Okay, that one hurt. Can I call a time-out?"
A bullet whistles over his head, and he sighs, sliding both of his swords from their sheaths on his back. "Alright, punks, it's your funeral."
"Wait, no, that sucked."
He slides into an overexaggerated pose in the general direction of the gunshots, which grow louder with every second.
"It's Clobberin Time!"
"...nah, too overused."
He lowers his swords and scratches the top of his head.
"DEADPOOL SMASH? Nah, too cliche. Big green ruined it for everyone. How about..."
The forest in front of him explodes in a spray of bullets, and a group of masked men emerges into sight some distance away. They are advancing in tight formation, firing their assault rifles rapidly. In front of them, a wiry girl of about nineteen dances through the spray of bullets, her brown hair bobbing as she runs. Despite her agility, she is bleeding from several spots across her body, and her chest rises and falls heavily. As Deadpool muses over his one-liner, she darts behind a tree in front of him, her attention so focused on the advancing soldiers that she doesn't even notice the heavily-armed crimson merc.
"Hey, you. What do you think I should say while I carve these guys up? I dunno, I'm leaning towards yippee-ki-yay, motherf--"
The girl's head swivels, and her eyes widen in sheer terror. Her fist darts out, lashing Deadpool in the gut, and in the same movement, she yanks his glove down and grabs his bare hand.
"I'm sorry.", she chokes, her voice trembling. "But it's you or me, and I'm not going to let you capture me."
She squeezes Deadpool's hand tightly.
Nothing happens.
"Uh...usually you ask first. Y'know, treat me a little. Dinner and a movie. Bit raunchy, skipping right to the hand-holding, don't you think?"
The girl stares in disbelief. "You're supposed to be dead. Or...or passed out. Or...in a coma. How are you still talking?"
Deadpool blinks. "Your breath isn't that bad."
"What?" The girl frowns, temporarily distracted from the threat of the approaching hunters.
"I mean, sure, you could use a Tic-Tac....or five. Nobody's perfect."
The girl stares into Deadpool's eyes, her own pale green ones wide with disbelief. "I...kill...people."
He grins, though it looks considerably more malicious than intended under the mask. "Hey, so do I! See, we're making friends already!"
She stares at him again, baffled. "You really don't feel anything?"
"...uh...Indigestion? I was lying about the breath to make you feel better, really."
She looks behind her at the approaching men, then shoves Deadpool into a nearby ditch with a strength that should be impossible for someone of her size.
"Ow. Jerk."
"I wasn't planning to fight them here, but...you're something else. I've killed every person I've touched since I was seventeen years old. You, whoever or whatever you are, you might be the cure for this fucking....mutant thing."
"Stay here. Please."
With that the girl dashes out of sight in the direction of the soldiers. Their screams start shortly after, and the loud bratt-a-bratt of gunfire echoes in the otherwise still forest.
Deadpool stares out into empty space for a long moment.
Synapses fire. Neurons connect.
"...Rogue?"
Well, that was weird. I get teleported to forest and narrated at, and then Rogue, one of the X-Men I happen to dislike the least, shows up. She's pretty young, though, and doesn't seem to, uh, actually be an X-Man yet.
Hey, just how blank was this blank slate, anyway? I didn't sign up for an origin story! If I meet McAvoy, all bets are off.
Anyhow, this ditch is pretty boring. I should do something.
[] Y'know, we should hop out and help 'Rogue' kill her pursuers. Nothing like a little incredibly exorbitant and unnecessary slaughter to get to know an alternate-universe version of someone.
[] Waiting is boring, and unfun, and just sucks. I say we get up and walk off into the forest. There's the faint sound of traffic coming from the east, and where there's cars, there's people, and where there's people, there's food. And I'm always hungry.
[] Hey, screw origin stories and get out of here. Haul ass to the west. That industrial facility looked pretty interesting. It's Canada, so there's probably an illegal clandestine government operation or two working out of there. Why, just such an operation created yours truly.
[] Write-In. Hey, you're the voices in my head, not me. Pitch some ideas for what I should do.
The forest is vibrant, alive with the sounds of life. A small stream burbles along peacefully through the dense trees. Nearby, a deer nibbles softly at the undergrowth.
Suddenly, the sharp tang of ozone fills the air, and the forest grows eerily still. Too late, the deer rises and turns to run. The stench grows stronger, and the forest is filled with a blinding flash of light, like a hundred million bolts of lightning.
When the light fades, the stream and the deer are gone, vaporized almost instantly. A steaming crater lies in their place, smoke rolling menacingly from the scorched earth. A single red boot emerges from the smoke as the legendary mercenary Deadpool--
"The fuck is this? Are you narrating me?"
Uh...yes?
"Really? Let me have a go."
That's, uh...not how this works. I'm not sure how you would even do--
Deadpool steps from the fucking awesome crater he made just by showing up, steam hissing off of his perfect six-pack abs and gigantic, bulging crotchplate, which buckles from stress. The air around him pulses with mystery and sexual tension, and each deep breath causes his massive, head-sized pecs to heave. Think Arnold Schwarzenegger when he was Mr. Universe, but with more sex appeal.
What the hell--
He takes a slow look around, his piercing eyes impregnating the air as they swivel through it. His musk is so masculine that the trees break into heat as his gaze passes through them. As he takes a step forward, his skintight latex outfit ripples as his gigantic muscles threaten to rip it to shreds.
No. No, no, no. No.
No.
Just...no.
"Fine. Spoilsport."
Deadpool sighs heavily and looks around at the decidedly non-impregnated trees. His average-sized crotchplate makes no movement (certainly not anything that could be described as bulging), as he takes a step forward and surveys his surroundings. The sound of engines and honking horns echoes dimly from the east, and to the west he can just make out some sort of industrial building.
"Where am I, anyhow? Wait, wait, wait, don't answer that. I was an Eagle Scout, so I know how to track anything, including myself."
Deadpool stoops down and grabs some dirt from the forest floor. He mashes it to his mask and takes a long, deep sniff.
"Mmmmm. Maple sap...rich soil...and just a hint of nationally funded healthcare."
Deadpool rises to his feet, dirt clutched triumphantly in his fist.
"I'd recognize that dried deer crap anywhere. This is Canada! The Great White North! The Land of the Mounties!"
There is a soft whistling sound, and then the tree nearest to Deadpool explodes in a spray of wood and shrapnel. Moments later, the one next to it does the same.
"Huh. Don't remember--"
Deadpool jerks, cut off. A dark red stain begins to spread across the stomach of his crimson costume. He lowers his eyes towards the wound and lets out a heavy sigh. With a grunt of effort, he sticks a finger into his newest hole and digs out the offending particle. As the wound seals up, he raises the gleaming hunk of metal to his mask and sniffs deeply.
"Bullets. Definitely bullets. Y'know, is it too much to ask that I don't get shot at everywhere I go? I mean re--"
Another bullet slams into his trachea, which he winces and picks out, coughing. After a few seconds, his throat knits back together, and he resumes speaking.
"I mean really, I'm not asking for a lot. Just a few short moments of my day where lead isn't making new orfices in my supple flesh."
Another dull thud, this time in his arm. The source of the bullets grows closer, the retort of gunfire echoing in the woods.
"Okay, that one hurt. Can I call a time-out?"
A bullet whistles over his head, and he sighs, sliding both of his swords from their sheaths on his back. "Alright, punks, it's your funeral."
"Wait, no, that sucked."
He slides into an overexaggerated pose in the general direction of the gunshots, which grow louder with every second.
"It's Clobberin Time!"
"...nah, too overused."
He lowers his swords and scratches the top of his head.
"DEADPOOL SMASH? Nah, too cliche. Big green ruined it for everyone. How about..."
The forest in front of him explodes in a spray of bullets, and a group of masked men emerges into sight some distance away. They are advancing in tight formation, firing their assault rifles rapidly. In front of them, a wiry girl of about nineteen dances through the spray of bullets, her brown hair bobbing as she runs. Despite her agility, she is bleeding from several spots across her body, and her chest rises and falls heavily. As Deadpool muses over his one-liner, she darts behind a tree in front of him, her attention so focused on the advancing soldiers that she doesn't even notice the heavily-armed crimson merc.
"Hey, you. What do you think I should say while I carve these guys up? I dunno, I'm leaning towards yippee-ki-yay, motherf--"
The girl's head swivels, and her eyes widen in sheer terror. Her fist darts out, lashing Deadpool in the gut, and in the same movement, she yanks his glove down and grabs his bare hand.
"I'm sorry.", she chokes, her voice trembling. "But it's you or me, and I'm not going to let you capture me."
She squeezes Deadpool's hand tightly.
Nothing happens.
"Uh...usually you ask first. Y'know, treat me a little. Dinner and a movie. Bit raunchy, skipping right to the hand-holding, don't you think?"
The girl stares in disbelief. "You're supposed to be dead. Or...or passed out. Or...in a coma. How are you still talking?"
Deadpool blinks. "Your breath isn't that bad."
"What?" The girl frowns, temporarily distracted from the threat of the approaching hunters.
"I mean, sure, you could use a Tic-Tac....or five. Nobody's perfect."
The girl stares into Deadpool's eyes, her own pale green ones wide with disbelief. "I...kill...people."
He grins, though it looks considerably more malicious than intended under the mask. "Hey, so do I! See, we're making friends already!"
She stares at him again, baffled. "You really don't feel anything?"
"...uh...Indigestion? I was lying about the breath to make you feel better, really."
She looks behind her at the approaching men, then shoves Deadpool into a nearby ditch with a strength that should be impossible for someone of her size.
"Ow. Jerk."
"I wasn't planning to fight them here, but...you're something else. I've killed every person I've touched since I was seventeen years old. You, whoever or whatever you are, you might be the cure for this fucking....mutant thing."
"Stay here. Please."
With that the girl dashes out of sight in the direction of the soldiers. Their screams start shortly after, and the loud bratt-a-bratt of gunfire echoes in the otherwise still forest.
Deadpool stares out into empty space for a long moment.
Synapses fire. Neurons connect.
"...Rogue?"
Well, that was weird. I get teleported to forest and narrated at, and then Rogue, one of the X-Men I happen to dislike the least, shows up. She's pretty young, though, and doesn't seem to, uh, actually be an X-Man yet.
Hey, just how blank was this blank slate, anyway? I didn't sign up for an origin story! If I meet McAvoy, all bets are off.
Anyhow, this ditch is pretty boring. I should do something.
[] Y'know, we should hop out and help 'Rogue' kill her pursuers. Nothing like a little incredibly exorbitant and unnecessary slaughter to get to know an alternate-universe version of someone.
[] Waiting is boring, and unfun, and just sucks. I say we get up and walk off into the forest. There's the faint sound of traffic coming from the east, and where there's cars, there's people, and where there's people, there's food. And I'm always hungry.
[] Hey, screw origin stories and get out of here. Haul ass to the west. That industrial facility looked pretty interesting. It's Canada, so there's probably an illegal clandestine government operation or two working out of there. Why, just such an operation created yours truly.
[] Write-In. Hey, you're the voices in my head, not me. Pitch some ideas for what I should do.
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