Deadpool: Interview with a Psycho

Chapter 1: The Meeting (AKA; Why have you forsaken me, yellow boxes?!)

Samantha Cole cleared her throat and adjusted her glasses in the barely lit room as she sat with one leg over the other, fidgeting in her seat with a bit of nervousness. Her shoulder-length blonde hair adopted a slight sheen in the scant lighting as a ceiling fan accompanied the dim bulb. Sitting across from her was a leanly muscled figure clad in a red-and-black jumpsuit, who leaned forward with his head tilted and an eye cocked. The man was strapped with more firepower then an NRA convention: two bandoliers of frag grenades crossing over his torso to his waist, which had two pairs of handguns clipped to the belt in his hips that bore a buckle resembling his mask. On each of his thighs, a Mac-10 sub-machine gun with laser sight capability was holstered and placed upon his back were two katana swords, and though the blades were obscured behind him, Cole knew they had been cared for in a fashion that would make a samurai proud.

His face was completely concealed by the mask, which was divided by two black spots that surrounded his eyes and covered each respective side with red at the top, bottom, and center. His eyes were supplemented by contact lenses or maybe eyeholes covered by a Polaroid substance, which made both of them completely blank white. The design of the suit was both unnerving and intriguing as most super humans expose a bit of skin whereas this one had shown none whatsoever as though to hide something.

The man parallel to Cole, whose face seemed to grant the thought of a smile beneath the enigmatic mask, broke the silence suddenly. "I know how ya feel, toots; I'm feeling pretty naked without my yellow boxes." As he spoke cryptically, he looked around warily as if to expect a retort from somebody else in the room. Cole responded instead with a timid voice. "Y-yes, thank you, mister Wilson. What would you be willing to tell me first?" "Who did you say you were with again?" Deadpool shot back with an eyebrow raised. Cole brought her gaze up to meet his, not missing a beat and saying she was a reporter for New York's Daily Bugle. The masked man then gave a slow nod. "Well, seeing as you already know MY name, it's only fair that I know yours, babe."

Hardly one to call herself attractive, Cole mounted her feet with a precarious smile and put her hand forward as Wilson followed her lead, taking her hand as she gave her name as he requested. "Pleasure to meetcha. Can't say I enjoy the spotlight but eh…I'll take whatever I can." He said with a shrug before looking over his shoulder with disdain. "Still…what dumb-ass had this bright idea? A fanfiction?" His expression soon turned to worry. "I'm not gonna be kissing other dudes, am I?" he added with an almost audible shudder. Cole only stood, her eyes barely shading her look of fear and realization that this man was (and had long been) off his proverbial rocker. Nonetheless the show must go on, she thought, as she pulled out a notepad and pencil before sitting back in her respective chair. Deadpool did the same as he stared back at her with a bored look.

"So, I take it you wanna hear about my past, huh? Well, allow me to share it. I've only done it once but…here goes." Just then, as quickly as he sat down, Deadpool jumped to his feet, dancing about while beginning to rhyme.

Now this is a story all about how,

My life got flipped turned-upside down,

I'll only take a moment so sit there, fool,

And I'll tell ya how I became Deadpool.

In northern Canada, born and raised,

Outside the laundromat's where I spent mosta my days,

Chilling out, maxin', beating up kids,

Kicking out crap and giving out skids.

When a couple of doctors who were tellin' the truth,

Said there was cancer in this youth (He points to himself)

I get in an experimental project and wound up dead (!)

Not really, but just got voices in my head--

Cole raised a hand and smiled sympathetically. "Thank you but…Song is kind of hard to transcribe, for me at least." The psychopath shrugged in response. "It's cool. Don't have much after that anyways." The reporter then leaned forward with an interested look in her eyes behind gold-rimmed lenses. "You must get quite the dose of action, what with being the mercenary you are. How do you handle the pressure and have there been any jobs that are really tough to manage?" Deadpool seemed to drift away into thought for a few moments before looking back at her. "First off, the feeling of a good fight is how I manage my many stress issues. 'Course, if I'm having a bad day, I just shoot 'em. And I'm usually having a bad day. Secondly, I think I got a story for ya. There was one time that I had to break into a Stark industry armory for my employer. Naturally…somebody else wanted in as well."

Taking in a deep breath, Wilson started to share with the mild-mannered reporter the time he broke into a fortress only to find everything stolen, maybe even his heart.

Next Chapter: Collision Course (AKA; The Fable of Sable)