Epilogue

Any illusion that Peter would find Deadpool skulking around just waiting to be confronted faded quickly. Only after weeks of diligent patrolling did his spider sense finally start thrumming again. In retrospect it was obvious that the prickliness to his spider sense early in the summer had been Deadpool stalking him. Deciding to play it cool at least to start, Peter pretended not to notice the change. He swung out his window like usual, looking for someone he could help. Following a well-tread path of buildings he used almost daily, he also tried to find a direction for the attention from his stalker.

A woman walking home with a heavy load of groceries and being harassed by a pair of teenagers caught his eye. Peter swung down to offer assistance. Just his appearance was enough to stop the teens short and turn them around. "Hey, do you have far to go?" Peter asked. "I could help you carry those the rest of the way."

"Carrying groceries? Seriously?" Deadpool slipped from the shadows, sporting his usual uniform and many prominently displayed weapons. "All right lady, where do you live?"

When the woman just stared at him wide-eyed. Deadpool pulled a gun and repeated himself. "What is your address? Donde estas tu casa? Me and the kid are late for a unitards anonymous meeting. As you can see, we're both off the wagon."

"Woah, no way." Peter tried to impose himself between Deadpool and the woman, but he was hit in the face with an electrified rod that looked rather like a super-powered cattle prod. It dropped him like a twitchy rock.

"I... 195 Jamaica Avenue. Please don't shoot me." The lady squeezed her eyes shut, apparently waiting for Deadpool to murder her.

Using his portal generating belt, Deadpool dialed up her apartment and pushed the woman through.

"You can't menace random innocent pedestrians with handguns!" Peter shouted, his voice still warbling from the jolt of electricity Deadpool had hit him with. "Have you lost your mind?"

"Ages ago, never found it." Deadpool holstered his gun and grinned. "How ya been kid? I got your note. What did you want to talk about?"

"My note?" Peter asked. If he had an address, he could have dropped a note. "I didn't leave you a note."

"Are you sure?" Deadpool dropped into a cross-legged position next to Peter on the ground and rummaged through the many satchels and pockets in his suit to produce a worn and stained piece of paper. "If you didn't leave that at Sister Margaret's, then who did?"

Peter took the piece of paper and read through it quickly. "It's signed Tony Stark."

"Right, but Stark wouldn't be writing me. He should be thanking his lucky stars I've left him off the to-kill list and trying to avoid my notice. So my assumption is that it's some fancy code from you, my brainy teen protégé." When Peter just shook his head in response, Deadpool shrugged. "Ah well, I sometimes overinterpret these things. If Tony wants to have a word with me, who am I to deny him? I should have brought more guns."

"Wait, I didn't write the note, but we need to talk. You went out of your way to help me, so maybe I could help you a little." Peter pulled off his mask, sort of hoping Deadpool might reciprocate. "Please, just, I know who you really are."

"Heh, who I really am?" Not giving Peter a chance to recover from the shock that had knocked him down, Deadpool activated another portal and drug Peter through struggling.

Using his sticky hands and feet to give superior leverage, Peter managed to wriggle free and roll to his feet. Worried that he would be back in the box or Deadpool's home, Peter was relieved to recognize the open air and a familiar, if distant skyline. Cool green, oxidized bronze under his feet left no doubt where they were, a few hundred feet up in the air, corralled by lady liberty's crown. "What was that for? Why did you take us up here?"

"It's a good place for a private conversation. Now, you act like my identity is some kind of secret." Deadpool pointed to his masked face. "If I had any interest in hiding who I am, I'd wear less red and try to blend in better. I'm an open book."

Peter stood straighter, more determined in the face of Deadpool's bluster. "I know where you came up with the pseudonym, Wade Wilson. Do you know where it's from?"

"I made it up," Deadpool said. "It just came to me."

Peter tossed the red toy he had been carrying with him for weeks to Deadpool. "I made it up too, when I was four. He was my favorite toy, spaceman with the blaster. I even wrote his name on. Do you see?"

Deadpool laughed. "Oh God, you think you're an itty bitty wimpy-ass version of me? Peter, you probably told me about Wade when we were in the hospital together. I just forgot. They put my brain through a meat grinder. It's called personality stripping, makes it easier for the control chip to keep you in line. I told you, you were good to me. It's why I helped you. Tell you what though, you have a look see and tell me if you think we're both Peter Parker." With a flourish, he pulled his mask off exposing the mangled and mottled flesh that made up his complexion.

Part of him wanted to just agree with Deadpool, to agree that he wasn't any version of Peter's future, but through the distortion of ravaged tissue, Peter recognized himself, his eyes, his face. "If you let me, I have connections, friends, that might be able to help you. Mr. Stark..."

"Fuck you—I don't need help from anyone, especially not from Tony Stark. You still think he's a hero, but he isn't. Maybe he never pushed a plunger or opened a skull in the Shop, but he held their leashes and used the soldiers. He held my Goddamned leash for years and years until the control chip failed and I went rogue." Deadpool smiled grimly. "You know what kid, it doesn't matter who I was. I know who I am. Fuck the past. It's dead." Deadpool tossed Peter's toy back to him. "Just do me one favor. Take his help, smile to his face, but don't trust Tony Stark; I taught you better. Don't be stupid. Don't be naive. Don't fucking disappoint me."

"I just can't see it. You just said that your memory was compromised..." Peter stopped talking when Deadpool drew both his guns. "But I'll be careful and cautious. I won't disappoint you."

"It's all I ask. I'd hate to have wasted my time on you. Oh and you'll give Stark a message for me? Tell him to back off or I'm putting him back on my to-kill list."

"I'll ask him to back off, but you have to do a favor for me. Try to be good?" Peter asked, realizing how vague and childish the request sounded once it was out of his mouth.

"Oh I can try, but don't expect me to succeed."

Leaving Peter standing atop the Statue of Liberty's head, Deadpool pulled his mask back on and leapt gracefully through a portal to parts unknown.