"Wh're yu carr-ng muh?" Morrigan slurred, her various attempts at bedroom eyes sliding shut no matter what she tried.

Tony shrugged, quite a feat given the load of curvy succubus he was carrying. Even more so given that lugging women around bridal-style wasn't something he made a habit of. At least putting a barely conscious Lilith to bed had given him a bit of experience. Thankfully, decades of dealing with paparazzi made ignoring nonsense like Dante's catcalls and Chun-Li's chuckles a breeze.

"I'm feeling particularly chivalrous tonight. It happens every full moon or so. Sides, you looked like you could use a lie down anyway." Tony said, remembering how she'd been mere moments away from sleeping face first on the floor before he'd come to the rescue.

"Ohhhhh Tony, if'n yer feeling fwissssky..." She smiled, giving him a heavy lidded stare.

The billionaire barely kept down his chuckles at the sound of her trying to affect both a Cajun accent and a Scottish one at the same time. "Not right now. You're drunk." He allowed himself a grin. "Besides, I think I may have a headache."

Morrigan tried to glower at him, but her continually dipping head made it only a partial success. "L'iaw. I cn smell th want on ya. I al…all…allws…" She trailed off, then huffed irritably. "…I jst can."

Tony shook his head. "Oh, I probably need a shower then. You know how I get sidetracked by all the pain I'm feeling. You really wouldn't believe how distracting it is."

"Mehhh," the succubus flipped a dainty hand in a drunken dismissal of him and all he stood for. "Yer naw fun."

"I'm lots of fun. When I feel like it, anyway." Tony pushed the master bedroom door open with his foot. "Here we are, milady."

It was a pleasantly homey room, and it too was bigger than Rhodey's first apartment. Rhodey had a habit of bringing things like that up, but in this case, the criticism had felt kind of unfair. Tony'd had to remove the bedroom's Jacuzzi after falling into it too many times, so it wasn't like Rhodey was the only one who had to make sacrifices.

Morrigan gave it a bleary once-over. "S'not so bad…"

"And since I'm such a fantastic guy, I'll even tuck you in. No charge," Tony wise cracked as he walked towards the king size bed that was the room's centerpiece

Morrigan sniffed. "I spose yer kinna usef…use…usefwul."

Tony rolled his eyes. "'Useful's my middle name. Looked awful on my college applications though."

He didn't bother trying to dress or undress her for bed. (A), Morrigan could magic her clothes into whatever she pleased, including spears, blades, and working rockets. And (B), he was in no rush to repeat the Bats Incident.

Once tucked in Morrigan stretched for a long time, probably for Tony's benefit, before reclining into the comfortable memory foam mattress. "Do I get…get…food in bed tooooo?"

Tony shrugged carelessly. "I can order a pizza."

Her face twisted into a frown. "I…'m not Dan-te, ye…you…mortal."

He pretended to inspect her. "I dunno…Bleach your hair, dress in some more red, might be close." Tony watched as a pillow struck the wall far to his right. "Wow, you really aren't faking. You are a lightweight."

"Ge' Out," the succubus commanded, hurling another misaimed pillow. "'fore I say yer not werth m'time."

"Yeah. Considering who's sleeping down the hall, I don't think that's really an option anymore."

The succubus stared at him for a few moments. Then, with a huff, she took up as much of the bed as she possibly could. Tony rolled his eyes, and made for the living room couch; it wouldn't be the first time she'd kicked him out of his own bed. It was only once he was at the door that he was struck by a flash of insight.

Dear god. This is what married people do.

Tony glanced back at the comfortable lump of succubus lying in his bed, suddenly feeling an urge to say something.

"I...uh…" He began, only to trail off. He sighed and put a hand to his forehead as he tried to dig up something suitably relationship-y sounding. "Sweet dreams?" He ventured.

The only answer he got was a very loud and very familiar snore.

Sleep had proven elusive once again for agent Phil Coulson. The others had left in search of their own beds shortly after Stark had put the child to sleep, which meant his game of checkers with Peter was put on hold. However, Coulson was nothing if not efficient with his time, so he would use this time to look over the new intel reports from S.H.I.E.L.D., as well as enjoy a cup of hot cocoa.

"So, should I put a lock on my kitchen?"

Agent Coulson glanced up from his tablet as Tony Stark ambled into the living room.

"Really, is there a hospitality clause I missed when I signed up with you people?" Stark grumbled as he headed for the bar. "Or am I just surrounded by thieves?"

"Well…" Coulson took a sip of the cocoa. "Dante's S.H.I.E.L.D. profile does state that he has a record in Latveria. And I've had to deal with a few of his messes in the past."

Stark chuckled briefly as he perused the bottles. "I think the night chef wants to kill him. Four years at some fancy cooking school, makes things I can't even pronounce, and all he's gotten tonight are pizza orders. JARVIS said he left after he got an order for a two gallon strawberry sundae."

"Dante's psychological profile does mention some obsessive compulsive tendencies, which is backed up by reports from some of his colleagues as well." The agent paused, eyes on Stark. "I thought you quit."

Tony's hands froze just shy of an unopened Johnny Walker Blue, and he took a step back from the bottles. The billionaire took a breath, then turned to Coulson, his brown eyes betraying only mild irritation. "And I thought you had a ponytail."

"That was a different time," the agent's gaze narrowed slightly. "I trust you don't need a reminder what your S.H.I.E.L.D. disclosure agreement says."

"I don't read fine print, I have lawyers for that." Stark replied, but quickly retreated from the bar. "The one day I really should be able to drink myself stupid, and people tell me I can't." He sighed. "Rhodey actually texted me about this, and you know what he wrote? Instead of something like 'Hey, I heard you have a kid! Congratulations!', I got 'Tony, I saw the news. Do not get drunk!'. Some friends you people are."

"We at S.H.I.E.L.D. just want to keep you healthy and happy." Coulson took another sip of hot chocolate. "And to, if at all possible, keep Iron Man from doing one million, two hundred thirty thousand, five hundred fifty dollars and ten cents of damage to private property. Again."

"That was my house." Tony sniffed, pulling open the large kitchen refrigerator. "Everybody else wrecks it, and like hell I'll be left out. The dinosaur was a new one, though." Tony shut the door, a package of Twinkies in one hand and a bottle of mineral water in the other. He popped open the package of chilled snack cakes and took a bite. "So, trouble sleeping?"

Coulson sipped his cocoa. "To an extent. Insomnia is a side effect of the medications. I'll try again in an hour."

The billionaire winced for a moment, before schooling himself into a something more casual. While Fury had ordered it, Coulson had been the person who'd brought all the disparate heroes together. As such, he held a special place in the Avengers. The wound Loki had inflicted on Coulson nearly a decade ago hadn't killed him, but had instead left him in a deep coma. Thankfully, S.H.I.E.L.D. was both resourceful and tenacious, and after seven years out of the game, the agent was on the mend. The Avengers had thrown Coulson a party when he'd reported back to duty.

Now Tony felt bad all over again for snapping at him earlier.

"Right, yeah. How is..." He trailed off, gesturing at his chest with one hand.

"Better. The serum agent Kennedy delivered is doing its job, but I doubt Wolverine will have to worry about me taking his place anytime soon though."

"Probably for the best," Tony replied a little too quickly. "I don't think you could pull off the yellow jumpsuit. But hey, look on the bright side. You always liked Cap, and now you have a little super soldier in you too."

Coulson's professionally neutral eyes glanced at Stark for a good few moments.

Stark blinked, then gave his head a firm shake. "That's...that came out wrong. I meant the accelerated healing mumbo jumbo that Cap helped with, not anything else."

The agent continued to stare, and Tony glanced away, looking vaguely uncomfortable.

"I... blame Morrigan?"

Coulson turned back to his half-empty cocoa. "I see. Speaking of which, shouldn't you be in bed too?"

Tony, grateful for the escape provided, forged ahead. "Trying to get rid of me?"

"Simply curious."

The billionaire leaned against the kitchen counter and took another bite of Twinkie.

"Usually, I would be, since Morrigan doesn't like being ignored. Just one more burden I have to heroically shoulder." Tony shrugged, his expression turning thoughtful. "But I think she's still worn out from having Lilith. She punched out practically the second she laid down." He hummed thoughtfully. "Guess she didn't get much sleep those four months before she came up here with the kid." His expression lightened a little. "The wine probably didn't help much, either."

"And 'the kid'?" Coulson asked.

"Asleep too. Kept on saying she wasn't tired right up till she passed out. And before you pull that 'I'm a secret agent who watches Super Nanny' card on me, I tucked her in and everything. Even left a nightlight on."

Phil quirked an eyebrow. "Why would you..."

"Pepper's idea of an April Fool's joke," Tony interrupted, then finished the first Twinkie. "She sold a likeness of the Iron Man helmet to some novelty company. Only found out about when I got a complimentary box in the mail. I've been making Christmas lights out of them." He nodded at Coulson's tablet as he went to work on the second snack cake. "So, anything good?"

"Nothing especially," the agent replied and turned his attention back to the reports. "Shadaloo is trying to stay under the radar, but it's become far more difficult for them now that S.I.N. is trying to take advantage of the power vacuum. We've also gotten reports of HYDRA weapons being used by both sides, so that'll be something to look into."

Tony took a swig of water. "Fun."

"Reconstruction and biological contaminate screenings are nearly done in Willamette, Colorado. No signs of the T-virus, but we have elements of the B.S.A.A. on standby incase that changes."

There was a pause. "That's good." Tony said finally.

Coulson glanced up at the shift in the industrialist's tone, only to find that Tony was suddenly very interested in Stark Tower's panoramic view of the Manhattan skyline. The agent could sympathize. He hadn't been involved in the Raccoon City incident, but the reports alone had turned his stomach. For someone like Stark, who'd actually been a first responder in spite of the quarantines he'd broken in the process -including S.H.I.E.L.D.'s own- it had to have been even worse. The alcohol abuse that had shelved Iron Man in favor of War Machine for almost two years hadn't come from nowhere.

And the less said about Willamette, the better.

"Do you want to..."

"No." Tony's answer was like a blast door slamming shut. "What else is happening?"

"The 'Heroes For Hire' franchise in Aoharu City, Japan, is up and running. The leader is a little rough around the edges, but Mr. Ichimonji seems to have done well for himself so far. The JSDF has volunteered agents Arisu and Xiaomau in the event of complications. Aside from that," Phil turned his gaze back up to Stark, "most of the briefing is about your current situation."

The billionaire stared at the S.H.I.E.L.D. agent, incredulous. "It's my first day."

"If it makes you feel any better, it's all preliminary."

Tony pushed off the counter, his expression now downright irate. "No, it doesn't make me-" He stopped and let out a frustrated sigh, rubbing his eyes as he took a moment to calm down. "…what's it say?" He asked, his tone now merely aggravated instead of angry.

"That, with this recent development, you're likely to become an even larger target than before."

"Oh. Well, at least that's a switch. I don't know what I'd do if it were something new."

Coulson sipped his cocoa. "That is just from the usual roster of potential threats."

"Ya know, I just love being popular," Tony grumbled, taking an angry bite out of the last snack cake. "Never a dull moment. So who're the newbies I'll have to smack around?"

"Demons, for the most part."

Stark threw the agent a dull look. "Yeah, I know. A lizard one kind of wrecked my house this morning. Even more than it was before."

"No, you misunderstand. I mean the powerful demons. Since Morrigan is queen of the succubi-"

"Starkubi."

Coulson put down his cocoa. "I'm... sorry?" He asked, genuinely perplexed.

"Starkubi." Tony repeated, stretching a bit as he did. "While the name is a bit of a work in progress, Morrigan is queen of the succubi. So, if I marry her, I become king of the succubi." Tony smirked at the befuddled agent. "'Tony Stark, king of the succubi' has a ring to it, don't you think?"

"You…do realize that if you did that, you'd make yourself an even bigger target than you already are." The agent said slowly. "Along with Lilith, Morrigan, and everyone around you. Dante's presence is even worse, because of his parentage."

Tony scoffed coldly. "Yeah, they kind of lost their surprise factor since a bunch of them tore up my house this morning, then came after my kid, and then did the whole thing with the T-Rex." Tony took a lazy swig of water. "Morrigan's told me about a lot of the crap that goes on down there. It's obvious someone already knows. Besides, I've already talked to Cap and the others. They said they'll help if I need it. If the people downstairs are smart, they'll see the score and leave us alone."

"And if they don't?"

Tony finished off his last Twinkie. "Too bad for them."

Over the next few days, father and daughter spent hours in the lab working on their air cannon. While Tony could have built it in twenty minutes flat, he hadn't been kidding when he'd said they would be building it. As such, he made it a point to merely guide her as she did all the work.

At first, Lilith was dubious of the project, instead spending much of her time ogling the various Iron Man armors. Tony could easily appreciate her enthusiasm. If someone had dropped an Iron Man armor in front of him during his younger years, he wouldn't have been able to focus on anything else either. But the elder Stark had told her quite firmly that she needed to start at the beginning before trying to mess with something that complex.

"But, how does…something…like…this!" Lilith grunted as she twisted a pipe into place, turning to face him once she was done. "…help me with one of those?" She nodded at the armors.

"It's supposed to teach you about the 'virtues of patience'. It's kinda like one of those mystic kung-fu teachings." Tony smirked. "You know, like 'wax on, wax off'."

"Like what?" Lilith's head tilted in an adorably confused way.

The smirk fell off Tony's face. "Let's just say that learning a bit about the basics will help you down the line." He shook his head good-naturedly. "Maybe it'll even keep you from doing some of the dumb stuff I did when I first got into the suit."

The girl's face lit up. "Oooh, what'd you do?"

Tony waved the question off. "Don't worry about it."

Lilith tapped her chin thoughtfully. "Did you crash?"

"I said don't worry about it. Respect your elders, kiddo."

"I bet you hit something you liked!"

The elder Stark, rather than dignify his impetuously grinning daughter with a response, spent the next few moments fussing over the air canister's nozzle. He did so not out of embarrassment, but out of genuine concern for her safety. Really.

"Waaiiit a minute…" Lilith's grin disappeared as a light bulb came on over her head. "If you're telling me to be careful, does that mean…" The pitch of her voice rose as she took a breath. "…You'll really give me my own armor to play with!?"

Tony hummed. "Well, since the Extremis in you isn't really working, and I have no idea how to deal with that yet, yeah. I'm not going to just let you wander around without some kind of protection…" Tony trailed off, frowning at his tittering daughter. "Don't laugh, you know what I meant."

"Yep," she smiled pleasantly, putting her hands behind her back.

The industrialist shut his eyes and shook his head. At least I hope she does. I really don't want to deal with "The Talk" yet. "Anyway, the regular armors aren't one-size-fits-all, so try not to do any more Pympressions."

Lilith would've asked about the strange word, but her brain had no time for anything not related to Iron Man right now. "Then maybe I should test one of your armors?" She asked cutely, using her most adorable smile yet. "Learn a little about them?"

"Yea-No." He grinned at the way she deflated. "Nice try though."

The little lady tried similar ploys nearly every hour afterward, pouting each time Tony shot her down. Her pouts got so good that after a day or two, the billionaire started to feel a little bad.

After giving it some thought, Tony decided to do what he thought was the most parental thing he could: Buy her off.

Hey, that's what responsible parents do, right? Morrigan had agreed, and since two-for-two was pretty much the same as ten-for-ten math-wise, he didn't really need to ask anyone else.

Of course, being Tony Stark, he simply had to add some patented Stark-ness to the idea.

After a brief demonstration with an acetylene torch, Lilith looked ready to bend a knee to her father and call him "my liege". While it certainly got the kid's attention, Tony found he was powerless to resist her enthusiasm for testing it.

Maybe it's those big red eyes. He mused while cutting a mountain bike in half.

I spent a frickin' week setting this up. The plane, the gear, the plans, the pilot… Tony Masters idly stared at the metal floor. And this hunk of junk is what I end up with.

The cargo plane's hold had seen better days. Probably better decades, too. The walls were the most inviting shade of dull grey, everything inside groaned when touched, there was an overpowering smell worryingly similar to motor oil, and the less said about his 'chair', the better. All-in-all, the plane looked like it had leapt right out of Con Air; the only thing missing was Nick Cage.

Sadly, this was still one of the better rides he'd used since becoming a mercenary. The Quinjets were one of the few things he honestly missed about S.H.I.E.L.D.. When he had a mission, all he needed was clearance to use one, and a few bags of peanuts to pass the time. These days, it took a song, dance, and a bucket of cash to get Taskmaster where he needed to go.

Still, it could've been worse. Taskmaster sighed. I could've taken a commercial flight. He snorted at the thought. Fucking Deadpool.

He'd done his homework on the Edonia Republic and the specific lab he was supposed to pay a visit. The country itself was just one more in a long line of second-world holes created in Eastern Europe after the breakup of the Soviet Union. Really, Edonia's only real distinguishing feature was the fact it bordered both Symkaria and Latveria. That fact alone had made the government understandably twitchy. Victor Von Doom was bad enough if you were on the same planet as him, so living in his backyard had to be a paranoia inducing nightmare.

Jester hadn't told Taskmaster much about the lab itself, aside from its location, the general layout, and a picture of the target…along with the nonsense about 'interesting things' being done there. Taken together, that meant he was going in practically blind, as patrol strength, static defenses, and even ownership were unknowns. In Taskmaster's experience, that last one had a tendency to be stupidly important.

I'd rather not find out I'm breaking into Doom's summer cottage. I don't need that kind of headache.

He was probably going to put a bullet in the clown's foot for this later, but he was a professional, and he could always adapt.

A hiss from the small wall intercom in the cargo bay caught his attention.

"We're currently over the drop area," the offensively Polish pilot said. "We will lower the cargo door for you. I hope you know how to fly, my friend."

Taskmaster sighed at the pilot's unknowing jab. He'd copied a lot of moves during his work and the World Warrior tournaments, but superpowers were sadly beyond him. Hell, even anything involving chi was an embarrassing failure, even though he'd been assured it could be learned with proper practice. Then again, he'd punched that preening Spaniard's face in, so it all kind of evened out.

The mercenary began his last minute prep, once again reminding himself that he'd swapped out his replica of Captain America's shield for the hard energy projector he'd stolen from the S.H.I.E.L.D. HeliCarrier.

The lights in the cargo hold suddenly flashed a dull red as the rear door of the aircraft began to lower with an ominous groan.

Taskmaster, his equipment check complete, slipped into his parachute harness, taking a few moments to make sure everything was secure. Once that was done, Taskmaster walked to the rear of the hold, took a breath, and dove out of the plane.

About ten minutes of free-fall later, Taskmaster landed in Edonian rooftop waters. The grumbling mercenary pulled himself out of the swimming pool, only to be confronted with a sliding glass door. Stabbing the offending door felt surprisingly cathartic, but it vanished once he spied three genuinely surprised people lying nude on a bed inside.

Wouldn't last a day in New York.

"I ain't in the mood, lady." the mercenary growled, waving his blade at one of the two bimbos when she looked ready to scream. With that taken care of, he stalked through the penthouse, kicked the front door off its hinges and vanished into the hallway.

All of their tinkering came to a head during their lab session on Saturday.

Tony was quickly nearing day five of parenthood, and so far, nothing truly catastrophic had happened. He was pretty proud about that, considering the sort of people he was temporarily living with. True, there had been a dust-up between Chun-Li and Dante, something about the half-demon being his usual stupid self, but Peter had made sure Dante wasn't flung out of the tower. Morrigan breezed through the workshop on occasion, idly curious what Tony was teaching her little demon, but she'd never had much patience for lab work. Her new hobby seemed to be toying with agent Coulson

She's almost trying too hard now. Tony smiled wryly. But, I guess if anyone could be succubus proof, it'd be Coulson.

"Alright!" Tony Stark clapped. "Now that it's done, it's time for the most important part. What do you think?"

Lilith hefted the air cannon, which looked more like a bazooka on her slight frame, and grinned widely. "Aye aye, sir!"

"Ya-har." Tony replied, then pointed to a small pyramid of cola cans he'd set up on a nearby workbench. "Alright kiddo, you see those cans? They're not good cans. In fact, they're really bad ones. Probably have something to do with the mob. You know what to do?"

"Blast them!"

Tony nodded sagely. "It's the only humane thing to do, really. Now, aim the cannon." He said, humming as she did so. "Alright, brace your legs, just like I showed you. That's kind of important." He nodded as the half-succubus sank into the stance he'd been so insistent she learn.

With the results of similar tests in mind, the elder Stark made sure he was out of the kid's way, both in front and behind.

"There may be some slight recoil. Ready?" He warned, feeling a bit proud he'd done something his father never had.

"So ready." Lilith's smile was giddy.

Tony held up a hand, eyes locked on the soda cans. Both father and daughter tensed, the air around them charged with anticipation.

Then, the hand dropped.

With a loud whump, every last aluminum can went smashing into the wall behind them. At the same time, Lilith, with a loud shriek, flew backwards into a bookcase. The smashed remains of which swiftly buried her

"You alright?" Tony asked, peering at the mound of books and particleboard.

A few girlish chuckles came from somewhere under the pile. "M'fine. Heh heh. That was fun…Oww..."

He unconsciously let out a small breath. "That's good. What do you think J.A.R.V.I.S.?"

"I believe the family tradition continues, sir."

Tony frowned at the reminder of his inglorious younger days. "No J.A.R.V.I.S., I meant the cannon. How'd we do?"

"Of course, sir. My readings indicate a six-hundred and forty PSI shot. While it is not a new world record, it is still a very respectable showing." The A.I. paused thoughtfully. "I believe you were correct about the recoil, sir. "

"Guess so. But, hey, third grade science fair, here we come. Hear that kiddo? We're a shoo-in for first place."

"…yay…?"

"Yay." Tony agreed as he pulled Lilith out of the pile of junk. "So. Want some ice cream?"

The initial infiltration had gone fairly smoothly. He'd found the facility on the outskirts of the city with less than an hour of searching. The place, while covered with the Tricell logo, had clearly gone for a hidden in plain sight plan over brute security. While it was cheaper and stealthier, it also meant that the initial defenses couldn't be worse than a few security cameras and a friendly chain link fence.

Indoors was where things got halfway challenging. The cameras were harder to avoid thanks to the cramped space. Those, combined with the motion sensors and armed guards in black Kevlar uniforms made progress extremely slow.

Actually, all of that was only half of it. Whoever came up with the locks in this place is off their fucking rocker. Taskmaster shook his head and continued to shimmy through the duct.

In the interest of both speed and stealth, the mercenary had decided on the ventilation system. According to the facility schematics, the vents led somewhere marked as 'laboratory equipment storage'. That seemed a reasonable place to store a nine-foot test-tube. And the near straight shot almost made up for the incredibly tight squeeze of crawling through the air vents. Almost.

Still better than a cardboard box. Taskmaster could barely fathom why he'd even considered thinking that was an option.

Oh wait, he knew why. The guards were clearly stupid enough to put up with those damn medallion key locks, so he could probably just wander around in a box completely undeterred. The price I pay for overestimating people…

Taskmaster's next ten minutes were spent crawling and wiggling through the cramped vents. More than once he had to stop so a fan didn't slice into his head.

But now, the goal was finally in sight. Just another few feet ahead sat another grate and beautiful freedom beyond.

Almost…there…

"What are the progress reports on Pathogen?"

Taskmaster stopped dead. Damnable, cramped duct system or no, intel of any kind would be great.

He heard papers rustling. "We've bonded them, but it is almost like the parasite is trying to cure the T-virus. "

"That's unfortunate. What about the mutations?"

"The tyrant itself hasn't changed, and preliminary findings indicate no loss of combat ability. Hell, with what the parasite offers, we'll be getting a boost in combat effectiveness. The snag is that the virus itself will be inert."

A tyrant… The mercenary's hand opened and closed on the hilt of his sword. Fuck the foot, I'm going to shoot that clown in the face.

"It'll be non-communicable then. Not the worst trade-off, but if the parasite destroys viruses, it stands to reason we won't be able to experiment after the bonding process. The Plagas would likely be attacked as well."

"We've actually already attempted that. The Plaga was killed almost immediately." The man snorted in dry amusement. "I suppose it doesn't like sharing its turf."

Taskmaster's eyes narrowed. This 'parasite' was starting to sound uncomfortably familiar.

"Well, that's unfortunate, but overall it's still good progress. I'll give the report to Mr. Wesker. Where's S-T-001 now?"

"We've moved it to the specimen viewing theater, just in case the director wants to see some actual progress after he finishes with the healing factor team." He chuckled a bit. "You know they've actually started wearing earplugs?"

A hand covered Taskmaster's mask. Wade. God damn it.

Hey there chiefs. Can I call you chiefs? Ah, course I can. I thought I'd give you guys a little detour from all the awesome talky-action you see above you. You probably need it, unless you always look like that.

They probably do. Fanfiction attracts certain types.

Quite right my slanted black buddy. Anyway, hi, my name is Wade Wilson, but you can call me Deadpool.

I'm kind of a big deal in the Marvel Universe. I mean, Captain America? Wolverine? Hit Monkey? Those guys are small fries compared to me. I am king fry of Marvel, and I'm decked out in all the salty action goodness you'd ever need.

Which is more than you'd expect. Or want.

Absolutely. It's not very green either, with all the ketchup and all.

Hey! My inner thoughts are being typed here! You two shut your...eh...specially formatted mouths!

So, anyways. What am I up to, you ask? Well, ya see, I'm kinda in a pickle right now. See I was hanging out at the Wilson casa a couple of nights ago, going over the quarterly reports from High Moon Studios. I'm the head hombre in those parts now, so I gotta act like it, or so I'm told. They sure do love their Transformers, but to each their own.

Shh! It's 2008 here. Stop referencing real world events.

That just slipped out, right? I mean, you know what we do.

Quiet, both of you! I've been waiting for my chance to shine, and I'm damn well gonna take it! Go play CvS2 or something.

Dibs on Mai!

Oh you asshole!

Psh, some people, right? Anyway, so, here's the low-down-diggidy. I've been captured by the totally not jealous of Weapon X Umbrella Corporation. No wait, I mean WilPhrama. No wait, I mean Tricell! That's the one. Anyway, they grabbed me under the guise of pizza delivery guys-

No they didn't.

Yeah, they were really dressed more like regular mercs…

Shush! What'd I say about my inner most thoughts? You two can wait over there with the other fonts!

Anyway. They captured me because local queso grande Albert Wesker wants my healing factor. It's not the first time somebody wanted to poke yours truly to see how he ticks -fuck you very much Dr. Killebrew- but it is the first time they've looked like Duke Nukem if he was a big fan of the Matrix.

Actually, I just got done talking with him. He came in since the eggheads weren't getting anything good and yelled at me for being difficult. And it was all 'Global Penetration' this, and 'I am the only god' that, and I didn't really pay attention. I guess that got his viral panties in a big old bunch cause he went to do other off-screen stuff.

That might be foreshadowing.

That it might be, but we're here to ramble about the present. You don't keep a good Pool down, so out of the kindness of my contract I figured I'd give you guys a bit of action packed fun whilst I engineer my Daring Escape.

For those unaware, Daring Escape is trademarked Wade Wilson, 1993, Marvel Comics.

But woe be to your favorite merc with the mouth, for a warden most foul impedes my path! The bright red eyes of his mask are like hell itself!

Whooooo! Baaaadaaaaassss!

His body is black as night and twice as armored! And his anger is like that of a thousand angry things. His custom gun is pointed at me as I brace for my very rewritable end! Who is this dastard that would stand in the path of the most dynamic and delightful Deadpool?

"HUNK."

"Psssh ha, ha, ha! Hunk?" I laugh in the face of my Tricell employed doom. "Your name is seriously Hunk? What, did you get your name from one of those 'Whose my Boyfriend' games?"

"I will end you."

I think he wants our boom-boom kitty.

We don't have a boom-boom kitty. That's girl us from another dimension.

"Nuh-uh!" I yell back. "And what's a 'boom-boom kitty'?"

With a growl most evil, Hunk -heh heh. "Hunk". I mean really- opens fire with his plus two assault rifle of vague description. I quickly dodge out of the way, because bullets sting like crazy. I'd shoot back, but some very rude person I'm going to have a talk with took my guns. Instead I think quickly and grab hold of a nearby clipboard and let it fly!

"Ha-ha!" I yell.

We both watch the clipboard land in my holding cell with a sad little thump. If I had hash tags, this would be the time for the FML tag.

I thought this kind of thing only happens to Spider-Man.

Hunk -pa hah ha ha. I'm sorry, serious time- stares at it, then back at me. And I guess our moment ends because he gets right back to shooting at me. Luckily, I am swift, agile, and other cool adjectives, so I only get hit a few times. I am also super macho, so the shots only get the smallest of girlish squeals out of me.

He ducks behind a bit of concrete to reload and I get in close to do the super heroic thing and punch him in the face. But he dodges like a total douche and clocks me in the back of my head with his gun.

Suddenly I see stars, and none of them are power-ups.

"Screw you too Mario," I grumble.

I hear the gun cock above me. I look up.

So How do you think his eyes light up like that? That's pretty cool.

We'll have to ask him afterward.

"Not in the face!" I yell, kicking him square in the balls…And maybe kinda sorta breaking my foot on his groin guard. "OW! You're a mook! You're not supposed to think this far ahead!"

Hunk -I mean that codename could be a sexual harassment case- aims the gun right at my head. Exactly where I told him not to. Jerk.

And just then, right in truly dramatic time, the covering of the AC vent falls off and who should come out but my good buddy Taskmaster? He lands right behind Hunk –Does Wesker give out codenames? Cause if so, ewww- but he's facing the cell I was in.

"Uh-oh."

"Wade?" He turned around just in time to get smashed in the gut by the butt of an assault rifle.

Ah. We probably should have warned him about that.

Yeah. But, hey, it's a good cliffhanger for the next chapter.

"Yep, tune in next time. Same Pool time. Same Pool channel."

"What the hell Wade!" Taskmaster demanded, striking at Hunk's gun with his sword. "Give me a fucking hand here!"

"Shush! Next chapter! Don't you know anything about pacing?"

"I know how to break your face!"

Well, that escalated quickly. First food poisoning, then midterms, then flu, then finals, and then holiday nonsense. All in all, a full couple of months that have sadly gone without an update. Well, here you are. Consider it a late Christmas present. Much thanks and love to my Beta reader Dealer, Markmoonedge for the encouraging notes, Shyft for the advice, and all my very patient fans. I'll try to keep this fun for you guys. Happy New Years!