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| Deadpool's Apprentice; Kinda self-explanatory, don't ya think? | |
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| Tweet Topic Started: Feb 15 2010, 02:09 AM (634 Views) | |
| DPsA | Feb 15 2010, 02:09 AM Post #1 |
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One and Only Mod
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Okay, well since this fic went pretty well on FanFiction, I might as well post it here as well. But, since I'm lazy, I don't know when I'll put it up.
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| DPsA | Feb 15 2010, 02:37 AM Post #2 |
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One and Only Mod
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Deadpool's Apprentice Chapter 1: Intros and Chinese Food Deadpool stared at the girl lying, facedown, on his couch. She had been unconscious for three hours now, having been injected with the same serum that turned Norman Osborn into the Green Goblin. She stirred, flipping herself onto her back. Wade Wilson moved over to the girl, and kneeled next to her. He listened for her heartbeat, counting it and keeping time for a minute. Her heartbeat was extremely erratic, speeding up then slowing down until you could barely notice it was there, then speeding back up again. The girl’s eyelids fluttered open, revealing her gorgeous emerald green eyes. She stared at the man in a red and black costume in front of her. “Who are you? Where am I?” the girl asked in a panicked voice. She was about 17, and on a couch in a strange man’s apartment. Not a good combination. Deadpool chuckled softly, “Who am I? Why I’m the one and only Deadpool, the person who saved your life! But you can call me Wade Wilson, if you prefer. As for where you are,” he motioned around him, “You’re in my lovely apartment! Isn’t it wonderful?” The girl looked around her slowly, taking in all the little details about the apartment. She noticed that Deadpool didn’t own a toaster, and that he had a really small TV. She stared at the tiny TV, gazing at the news that a building, which looked suspiciously like her old base, had been blown up. “Now it’s my turn to ask the questions. Let’s start with a simple one: What’s your name?” He kneeled closer to the girl to hear her answer. “My name is Sophia Dyhar.” The girl answered softly. -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Sophia’s Point Of View The man who called himself Deadpool nodded once I answered. He backed away a little when he heard how loud I could talk. Which was good for me, because he smelled funny. Sort of like a mix between pickles and peanut butter, this is not a good combination, if you ask me. I kind of like it. It gives him character. What was that? I didn’t used to have a voice in my head. What happened to me? Osborn poked you with the Goblin serum, don’t you remember? Oh yeah, then I fainted and somehow got out of the building before it exploded. Ah, now you remember. You had better pay attention, Wade is about to ask you a question. “So, Sophia. I’m gonna need to know everything about you, if you’re going to become my apprentice. You may begin, now.” Wade said with a grin on his face. Well not on his face exactly, since he was wearing a mask. But you get the idea. Wait a minute; did he just say I was going to become his apprentice? Why yes, I believe he did. You should take him up on that offer, or he may decide to kill you. Kill me? Why would he do that? He’s a mercenary. Did you not notice the various weapons on his belt and the katanas on his back? I suggest you start talking to him soon, or he’ll get suspicious. Good idea. “I have no living family; they were killed in a terrible car crash that I wasn’t in. My mother was an only child and so was my father. My grandparents died when I was five years old. I was put in various households, but none of them liked me. Mostly because I usually got home around midnight on early nights. I grew depressed, and dropped out of high school. I enrolled in AIM, because I had nowhere else to go. Norman Osborn hit me with that needle, then I passed out and you know the rest.” I told him without showing any emotions. “Hmm…very interesting. Reminds me of myself, except I went to the military, and then Weapon X, and Norman Osborn didn’t hit me with any needles. That I know of, anyway. What are your special skills, Sophia?” He went to the kitchen and picked up a clipboard and a pair of reading glasses off the counter. Then he pulled up a chair next to me, put the glasses on, and crossed his legs once he was sitting. I tried to stifle the impulse to giggle. He looked ridiculous! Like an interviewer for a teaching job! Get a hold of yourself, Dyhar! Tell him everything you can do, before he gets too impatient. Skills? Like what? Like how you can hot wire cars and stuff like that! Hurry up, we haven’t got all day! “Well Mr. Deadpool, sir. I can hot wire cars and other vehicles.” Deadpool nodded, motioning for me to continue. “I have experience with various weapons. Um, I can pick locks and stuff. Is that okay?” “It’s enough for me to accept you as an apprentice. Don’t worry; I’ll help you build up on your skills, especially with the weapons part. Since you’ve been injected with Gobby’s serum, you will probably develop superhuman strength and speed! Isn’t that great? Well, we had better get started! We have a long day ahead of us!” He picked himself up off the chair and threw it across the room. “Why are you just sitting there? We need to go! I made an appointment with the tailor in ten minutes! Get off your butt!” he practically yelled at me. I tried to move my feet, but to no avail. They wouldn’t budge. “Uh, sir? I think my legs are numb.” I reported to him. He kicked me in the legs, which hurt, and asked, “Did you feel that?” I nodded, clutching my knees to my chest. “That means your legs aren’t numb. We’ll never make it in time. Here, hold onto me.” He held his hand out to me. I grabbed onto it slowly. This guy was a nut case that’s for sure. How is he going to get us to the tailor’s in like, eight minutes? He has his ways. Don’t doubt anything he says. Just trust him. Trust him? How can I trust a psychopath who kicks me? Which still hurts by the way. The same way you trust me, the voice inside your head. You just do. But that’s crazy! Then why are you still talking to me? Good point. Anyway, back to the real action. Deadpool latched on firmly to my hand, making sure to get a good grip, while the other hand went to the large button on his chest. He pressed it. Almost immediately we were enveloped in a cloud of red dust. I then had a sudden coughing fit. Deadpool looked down at me, then back at the dust. Once it had settled, I realized we were standing in the middle of a tailor shop. A scruffy little old man stood in the center of the room, staring at us. I looked down and realized I was still wearing my black jumpsuit, and that it was now covered in red dust. For some weird reason, I decided to sniff my sleeve. Ewwwww, it smells like pickles and peanut butter! Now you have character too. Would you just be quiet? That’s like telling yourself to shut up. Ugh, fine. Do whatever you like. What should I call you anyways? You should call me whatever Deadpool decides to name you. Name me? What do you mean? You’ll find out soon enough. Deadpool went over to the little old man and asked him a question. The man pointed to the back of the room, still staring at me. Then I realized I was still on the floor, so I got up and followed Deadpool to the back of the room. He led me through a series of short and long hallways until we reached a room filled with fabric. And I mean filled with it! There was so much fabric, there was barely enough room to walk. The fabric was in all the colors of the rainbow, ranging from orange to purple to green to gray. And of course the man known as Wade Wilson wanders toward the blandest colors there: White and gray. At least the gray was a pretty shade of gray. Oh stop complaining! Just be glad you even get to come with him. Why should I be? Just shut up and listen to him. Jeez, someone’s a little cranky today. Deadpool picked up three different materials; one gray, one white, and one dark gray. He handed me all of them to hold. Whoa, I didn’t know that fabric could be this heavy. “Uh, sir? Why are we here? I thought we were supposed to meet a tailor.” “We are. Didn’t you see the creepy little old man in front? That’s our tailor.” He smiled and led me out of the room and back towards where we had come. The creepy old man in question was standing behind a counter that wasn’t there before. I shot a questioning look at Wade, who just shrugged. We walked over to the counter-I-swear-wasn’t-there-before and handed the materials to the creepy little man. “Would you like paper or plastic?” the man asked in a scary voice. “Neither. We brought our own bag,” Deadpool pulled out a cloth bag from one of his many pockets. That made no sense to me. How does a bag like that even fit in a pocket? It just does. You don’t question Deadpool. He’s the best he is at what he does. Wait a minute, I thought that was Wolverine! It is, but Deadpool is really good at putting things in his pockets. That doesn’t even make any sense! It doesn’t have to. Whatever. “You’re total comes to 700 dollars. I will accept cash only for your convenience.” The man behind the weird counter said, holding out his hands. 700 dollars in cash? How does he expect anyone to pay that? Maybe he has billionaires shopping here. Maybe. “If you think I’m going to pay that, then you’re even crazier than me!” Deadpool announced. “Well if you won’t pay it, then I won’t sew it,” the creepy man declared. “Fine then, I’ll sew it myself!” Deadpool yelled at the man, then led me out of the store. “You can sew?” I asked him once we were out on the street. I really had no idea if that was a bluff or the truth; Deadpool was hard to understand. “Yes, I can. Because I am awesome like that.” I laughed at his response, then grew serious again. “Why did you learn?” This seemed like a logical question to me, but it got me an odd look from Mr. Wilson. “Does there really have to be a reason to learn how to sew?” he asked as we passed a Chinese restaurant. “Hey, that reminds me. I’m still hungry! You in the mood for Chinese?” he searched his pockets for money, coming up with ten bucks. My stomach growled at the mere mention of food. I nodded then led him inside to the waiting area. We stood, side by side, which made me realize just how tall he was. I was almost as tall as his shoulder, so he towered over me. We stood for ten minutes until a waiter nervously led us to a table. Seating a man in a red and black costume practically covered in weapons and red powder that smelled like pickles and peanut butter can do that to a guy. -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- After we ate dinner, Wade handed the waitress his number on a napkin along with the ten dollar bill, while at the same time grabbing me and teleporting us back to his apartment. When we arrived, I found myself wondering why I was still traveling with him and not trying to escape. Easy; you have nowhere else to go. Thank you, crazy self. Goodnight. “Goodnight Mr. Wilson,” I said out loud. “Goodnight, sleep tight, don’t let the Weasels bite!” he replied cheerfully. What in the world does that mean? It’s best not to worry about that right now. Goodnight Sophia. After those few words, I drifted off into blissful sleep. Edited by DPsA, Feb 15 2010, 02:39 AM.
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| Moon_Spider | Feb 15 2010, 03:46 PM Post #3 |
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The Author
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hey, that's really good!! Is the voice in your head the same as the few over at OTM, or somehow all of them combined? LOL.can't wait for more! |
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| DPsA | Feb 15 2010, 06:02 PM Post #4 |
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One and Only Mod
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Lol, I'm glad you liked it! But no, this is the voice that came first, but it is like all the other voices combined. Especially Bold Italics.....That one's my mafia voice... lol |
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| DPsA | Feb 25 2010, 02:37 AM Post #5 |
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One and Only Mod
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Time for another Chapter! Right after this post! |
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| DPsA | Feb 25 2010, 03:02 AM Post #6 |
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One and Only Mod
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Chapter 2: For Your (In)Convenience I awoke the next morning to Deadpool sitting in the middle of the floor, sewing. And I thought he was kidding! He was sitting next to two carefully folded, white and gray costumes. He looked up when I started giggling at him. "Finally! You're awake!" he shouted at me. I winced from the loud noise. At least it was better than the voice in my head. Are you talking about me behind my back? Talk about no trust. I spoke too soon. What's the matter? Don't you like me? Um, well of course I do! Just not as much as some other people. You better like me, cause if you don't that means you've got very low self-esteem. That's bad for a girl your age. I sighed mentally, then turned to face Deadpool, who was looking at me oddly. I smiled at him, he smiled back, then continued to sew. I still think that's funny. I jumped off the couch stiffly and stretched like a cat, arching my back and stretching my arms. I moved towards the kitchen in a zombie-like manner. "So, what's on the agenda for today, Mr. Wilson?" I asked him as politely as I could while managing to find a bowl for some cereal. I searched through the pantry for the actual cereal, coming up with a choice between Trix and Fruity Pebbles. I chose the Trix. "Well first off, you are going to put on this fancy costume I sewed for you," he picked up one of the already finished costumes from the pile sitting next to him. "Don't let the Trix rabbit have any of your cereal!" he said when he noticed what I was having for breakfast. I nodded at him then smiled again. He continued on with his list, "Then we're going to have some real fun with grenades! Oh, and timed explosives!" he grinned to no one in particular. "Sounds good. Say, do you have any bread to make toast? I'm really hungry." "Well I have bread, but you can't make toast with it," he answered vaguely. "Why not?" "A girl named Laura Kinney threw my toaster out the window." "Oh… Why did she throw the toaster out the window?" "Because the fridge was too heavy," he said while still staring at his handiwork. So that's why he doesn't own a toaster. Yeah, a girl threw it out the window. He just said that! I'm repeating it to make sure you understand. Did you know that a teenager needs to hear something thirty-five times in order to actually remember it? Wow. Really? Yeah. Do I need to repeat that thirty-four more times, or are you good? I'm good thanks. You're welcome! What's got you in such a good mood? This cereal is good. Nice and fruity. It could be a lot of things. Like that cereal, or the fact that we get to use explosives today! Sounds like fun. I really want some toast. So go make some. How? He doesn't own a toaster, remember? Throw some bread in the oven. But it might catch on fire! A small price to pay for the wonder that is toast. True. Plus he's got to own a fire extinguisher, right? Him? No. What?! No fire extinguisher?! That's what I said, isn't it? Or did you forget? I didn't forget! I'm in shock here! Why? Because! What would happen if there was a fire?! He'd spit on it. Ew. That's right. Do you know where a napkin is? Deadpool doesn't own any napkins. Napkins are for girly-men, like Spider-Man. Don't make fun of him! He's a nice guy! It's true though. You're thinking it. I'm part of your subconscious, so you can't hide anything from me. I thought you were the Green Goblin serum. Well that's true. I'm 80% serum, and 20% subconscious. Does that clear things up? Not really. Oh, well that's all I got. So you'll just have to deal. Um, okay. "Is that cereal any good? It's been in my cabinet for quite awhile now." Deadpool stated. I spit the cereal out of my mouth, spraying it all over the table. "What?!" "I haven't eaten cereal in forever, so I was just wondering," he said as he glanced at the mess I had created. "You need to clean that up. We have company coming later, after we play with the grenades," he frowned at me, then grinned at the thought of explosives. "Um, okay. Do you have any cleaning supplies?" I looked at the mess of pre-chewed cereal and milk. "Who do you think I am? Spider-Man? I don't own cleaning supplies," he informed me. I sighed. Somehow I knew this was coming. "Okay then, I'll just run to the convenience store and buy some. Do you need anything else?" I asked him, searching the counter for a pen to write what I guessed was going to be a very long list. I was right. "Yes; I'll need three more boxes of Trix, seventeen gallons of vinegar, six boxes of baking soda, a bottle of hydrogen peroxide, some bandaids- I prefer the Hello Kitty ones to Spider-Man or Wolverine, five rolls of duct tape, a few bottles of Tylenol, a few boxes of Advil, two tubs of 'I Can't Believe It's Not Butter'- I get that kind even though it's not really butter, some Pillsbury Crescent Dinner Rolls, um, am I forgetting anything?" he paused and glanced at me. "Oh yeah, I need some more Oreos too." He tossed me a silver colored credit card, which looked oddly expensive, for him. "Why are you giving me your credit card?" I asked without looking at the name on the card, or the brand for that matter. "It's not my credit card, its Tony Stark's. So don't feel bad when you end up spending way more than you wanted too; Tony's a billionaire. Now go, spend his money!" he said, shooing me out of the apartment. "But I thought we were going to go blow things up," I used my best whining voice to sway him back to the dark, and explosive, side. Come join us; we have cookies! Don't tempt the audience; they're crazy enough without your messed up cookies. Huh, I guess that's true… "That was before you offered to go to the convenience store," he said as he shut the door in my face. Darn, I was really hoping he'd come with me. Don't worry, you have me. You don't count if you're part of my subconscious. Well I'm all you got, so you're stuck with me. I suppose we should be getting to the store now. Yes, I suppose we should. Oh, but we don't need the audience to watch us the entire way; they get to skip ahead, to when we're buying things to get revenge on Deadpool. What? Oh never mind. -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Thirty minutes later, after I had picked out everything on Deadpool's list, I picked out some things for myself. Tony won't miss a few thousand dollars missing from his bank account; after all, he is a billionaire. I looked carefully at the different types of curling irons; 2" to 5", ionized to nonfluffing. I finally decided on a hot pink one, with thirty different heat settings, for optimum curl. Take that Deadpool! This iron will teach him not to make me shop alone with a credit card that has Tony Stark's name on it! Oh wait… I'm alone with a limitless credit card. Time to shop! Finally! Do you know how long I've been waiting for you to think that? Pretty long. Hmm… I thought you left when I was picking out the Band-Aids. Too bad, 'cause you can't get rid of me. What if I go to a doctor and tell him I've got voices in my head? He'll think you're crazy, then throw you in an asylum with all those other crazy freaks. Hmm, I don't think I want that. Which eye-shadow do you like better; lavender or red? Ooh the red, definitely the red. And no, you don't want to go to an asylum, they aren't as much fun as they might seem at first. How would you know? Ooh, that's a pretty shade of Charcoal. I wonder if it comes in a shade lighter… Check a little to your right. Yes, that's the one. Ooh, pretty. Are we supposed to be somewhere? Only Deadpool's. But this is much more important. Maybe, but I think we should get going. He could be worried about me. Deadpool? Worried about you? Now that's funny! Whatever. I'm leaving with my merchandise. Head to register 12. There's no line. Okay. I pushed my somehow-extremely-light cart over to register 12, almost knocking over an old lady on the way there. "Sorry!" I called back to her. She was shaking her fist at me and mumbling something about how teenagers can't be trusted with a shopping cart. Oh well. You can't win them all. Unless you're Deadpool. Hmm, I guess that's true. I put all my items on the little conveyor belt thing, and waited for the cashier to ring them all up. She scanned the box of Band-Aids, then again when it didn't show up on the computer. "Price check on item 566294011835396," she said in a gravelly voice. Somehow that reminded me of Mr. Wilson's voice. And how it sounded like charcoal, if charcoal could have a sound. "You can swipe your card now," she said in the same voice. I obliged, swiping the silver card on the little card-swiper. She nodded at me, which meant I could go. At least that's what I thought it meant. But for all I know it could've meant that she was going to hunt me down later, or that she was impressed that I could push the gigantic cart all by myself, or that she knew who I was and was going to hunt me down. Wait, I think I already said that. Oh well, you can't be too careful. Yes you can. That's why all those people are locked up in the asylum. Because they thought someone was going to take over the world, so they decided to beat them to it. Yeah, but I'm not going to try and take over the world. How am I going to get these back to Wade's apartment? Hey! Don't use italics, that's MY thing! And I have absolutely no idea on how to get those home. Darn, now I have to do work. Yes, now hurry up! We haven't got all day you know! Weren't you the one who wanted to stay in the make-up aisle? That's beside the point. The point is that it's cold out here! Feels fine to me. That's because I'm shielding you from the cold. Here how nice is it now? Oh my god! That's cold! Cold, cold, cold, cold, cold! Shield me again! Please! There you go. Now get us back to Wade's apartment! Hurry! |
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| Moon_Spider | Feb 25 2010, 12:28 PM Post #7 |
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The Author
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haha, nice DPsA!! The Spider-Man bits were awesome.
Edited by Moon_Spider, Feb 25 2010, 12:29 PM.
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| DPsA | Feb 25 2010, 10:28 PM Post #8 |
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One and Only Mod
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Why thank you, Moon! I happen to love writing this story, and it gets really crazy after that chapter. In fact, I think the first and second chapters are the only chapters where she's ever truly sane. (with the exception of the voice) |
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| lifeisacabaret | Feb 25 2010, 10:32 PM Post #9 |
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Sane man's sane man
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I likeded it. I hope she doesn't become too insane although insaneness is cool. Especially when it's coupled with certain items.
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| lifeisacabaret | Feb 25 2010, 10:32 PM Post #10 |
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Sane man's sane man
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^^ That looks even worse than I intended it to. Sorry. |
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LOL.

8:57 AM Jul 11