Cruisin for a Bruisin
Deadpool stands on top of a building, looking out into the shitty overpopulated streets of New York.
“Now my lovely audience, contrary to what some…less experienced individuals will tell you; there’s only three things that you really learn in mercenary school. Number one: Take your time, and focus on the target, because a lot of the time, you only have one shot…”
He meticulously scans the area and his eyes narrow when he spots exactly what he is looking for. “Bingo.”
The masked merc steadies his breathing and easily descends the side of the building, using the bustling roads beneath him to stay hidden from his target. He follows the burly man from a distance, as the dude eventually leads him towards a run down warehouse, innocuous to the average New Yorker, making it the perfect place for a criminal hideout.
“Now, that’s something these greasy shit stains failed to do, and now I’m in the walls of their secret little lair about to fuck shit up.”
After just a little bit more crawling, Deadpool pops down from the old dusty vent he was hiding in and lands right behind a man buff man dressed in a large leather biker jacket.
“Well, well, if it isn’t Harley Davidson’s unsuccessful twin brother?” The man in question looked up in shock, surprised to see the red masked man standing behind him, then his faced morphed into anger.
Deadpool tilts his head, “Oh? What’s wrong? Surprised to see me? I say there’s no harm in visiting the competition.”
“Competition? The fuck you talkin’ about man?” Harley Davidson knock-off, also known at Sister Margaret's as Bruce, looks at him weird but does his best to still look large and intimidating.
“Oh come onnnn, Brucey-boy, you know what I’m talking about. It’s not very nice to go around selling busted motorcycle engines and then steal my customers away, someone’s gotta teach you a lesson on sharing, and taking what’s not yours.” The red clad figure stalks closer to him, and Bruce starts to back up further until his back hits the workbench he was just using.
“Look man, it’s a dog-eat-dog out there, you either collect your missions on time or someone else is gonna poach em, that’s just how it works.” He says before earning himself a hard punch to the face, his nose making a sickening cracking sound as it physically shifts spaces on his face and blood starts pouring from the nostrils.
“Well, that’s not how it works anymore, bitch. You’re lucky I’m teaching lessons today, or else you’d end up far worse.”
“You sick son of a bitch! I’ll fucking kill you!” The biker’s voice if muffled from his hands holding his face together and whips out a gun, aiming it at Deadpool. The merc elegantly dances around the bullets, passing the time and waiting for the man to run out of ammo, the problem is, this guy seemingly had an unlimited supply of it and he runs a tight schedule around here so he has to wrap this up soon.
He turns to look at you, “Ugh! This is taking forever! Oh well, are you ready to continue our lesson on merc training 101?”
“Who the fuck are you talking to?” Bruce shouts from the distance.
Deadpool turns around to him and reminds him to “Mind your fucking business, dick cheese! I’m busy here, I’ll be with you in a second!” before turning back to you.
“Rule number two is: adapt to your surroundings. And in this case, if you ever happen to be trapped in a rundown warehouse with a trigger happy biker and his stash of unlimited ammo, change your approach. Don’t waste your time letting him unload all that ammo, instead, look around you, search for anything at your disposal that could be useful…”
He looks around and gauges the area, there’s a rope nearby but it’s tied up and it could take a couple of valuable minutes to untangle, there’s loose tires that could probably be used to distract him, but they look gross and tinged with tar and he really doesn’t want to get his suit dirty yet. Then finally, he spots it, just on the table behind the mad shooter are some electrical wires lying so perfectly out in the open, all he has to do is…he takes a running start, and front flips right over the man and exactly where he needs to be to grab the wire.
“And now, with our mouse-ke-tools, all we need to do is disarm them!”
A loud crackling whip is heard in the air and then makes direct contact with the biker's wrist, cleanly slicing it off, the man screams and is disarmed, giving Deadpool just enough time to kick the gun away, take said electrical wire and tie it around the biker, constricting any movements he might’ve thought of making. The masked vigilante takes the biker’s phone from his pocket and fiddles with it for a minute before setting it on the table near him.
“Say hello to the police for me, will ya? Well, that is if you don’t lose too much blood and can stay conscious enough until then. Byyyyeeeee.” He waves to the sobbing man on the floor and walks away, last thing he hears it the 911 operator asking for a response.
The doors to the warehouse are kicked in, and three blue clad police officers rush in. “Hello? Is anyone in here? Come out with your hands up right now!” The head officer screams.
The other two begin to walk inside further, following their leader, guns pulled high, ready to fire. No noise is heard.
The first officer looks down at the radio on his chest plate as it lights up with light and noise and listens in, “Hello? Officer 2946? Is that you?”
“Officer Malloney reporting, it’s me.” He replies, scanning the area.
“From the report, the call came from inside the building, this building is said to be condemned, so no one should regularly be in there, which means it had to come from a cellphone. The report also says there was no communication made during the call, all that could be heard was faint crying/distressed noises. Keep an eye out.”
Malloney nods and continues to scan the building, “Will do, thanks.”
The three police continue to scan the entire building, finding various drugs, weapons, and lots of stolen motorcycles and parts, they soon put together a part of the story, some sort of illegal motorcycle modding/production was happening here.
“Officer Malloney! In here!” One of the other police officers, a younger blonde headed woman yells for him.
He rushes inside only to find a man, he’s sitting tiredly, barely conscious on the floor bloody and tied up, and oh god, is that his hand lying beside him?
The two work on getting him untied while Malloney addresses the man, “Sir, sir. I’m a police officer, Malloney, badge number 2946, can you tell me who you are and what happened to you?”
The man seems to gain more and more consciousness as he’s untied, and he’s obviously uncomfortable talking to them but is too distressed to really think anything over.
“I was just-just working on my bike, then this red suited freak comes in here and cuts my arm off for stealing his jobs!” The biker responds, seeming both delusional and hysterical at the same time.
“Red suit? Who? Spiderman?” Malloney asks confused as shit.
“Spiderman-? No! Deadpool! He came here, cut off my hand, and tied me up for fuck sake!”
The police officers all look at each other before laughing.
This only upsets the man more, “WHAT?! Why are you laughing?!?! You need to catch that freak!”
The other two continue to laugh, while Malloney calms down enough to breathe and explain to the man. "There’s no way you saw Deadpool. I promise you.”
The biker’s heckles are raised again and before he can start yelling, Officer Malloney continues, “Deadpool kills people. He doesn’t leave anyone alive, and he certainly doesn’t call the police on them afterward. Trust me, if you saw Deadpool, you’d be dead.”
“Well who else wears red spandex, is annoying as shit, and doesn’t swing from spiderwebs?!”
The officer shrugs, “I don’t know? Daredevil? Doesn’t really matter, does it? Now you sir seem to be the one behind this incredibly illegal side hustle so it looks like whoever put you here agrees, we should take you in for it. Anyways, you have the right to remain silent, anything you do or say will-“
“No! Fuck no! I ain’t going to jail!” The biker cuts off, desperately scooting back away from the police.
“Sir, don’t resist, don’t run!” Malloney instructs as he lunges to grab at the man but is pulled away by his partners at the last second as the biker hits back of the table, jostling the motorcycle on top with loose wires and turning the machine on. It teeters for a moment and before any of the officers can react, the heavy machine tips off the workbench and right onto the man’s head, with the motor still going it shreds the man’s head to pieces.
The last thing Bruce can’t help to think about is “What the fuck? I don’t remember attaching any wires to the engine?” before it all goes dark.
Deadpool sits on the edge of a building swinging his feet and eating a roast beef sandwich, a few blocks away, an ambulance and even more police cars now swarm the warehouse, causing quite the commotion.
He hums to himself, taking another bite of his sandwich before stopping his ogling and looking up to you, the audience.
“Hmm? What was that? You wanted to know what rule number three was? Oh, that one's simple. Don’t fuck up. And unfortunately, it seems like our little friend Bruce broke every rule, especially the last one…”
He’s ready to continue to his next mission when his-or more precisely the old Deadpool’s phone rings. Oh boy, this is going to be so much fun…