Post by mystique on Jul 26, 2006 16:28:01 GMT -5
[FAIR WARNING: POST CONTAINS GRAPHIC VIOLENCE AND ADULT SITUATIONS.]
1992. Chile. Osorno Volcano camp.
Deadpool sauntered through the halls of the underground bunker, buried within the side of the mountain. He had been waiting for this moment since he'd heard of the possibility of its fruition, nearly a year ago. It was someone else's show, of course, it always was with the Mercenary… but the long odds showed the distinct possibility of his prize showing up, and being a natural gambler, he'd taken the bet.
Sometimes you hit Yahtzee. Wait, no, Jackpot. Well what the hell, Yahtzee works.
He snubbed the varying degrees of military and corporate-military guards and soldiers he ran across them, concentrating only on his glorious prize.
After what seemed to be an eternity, he came to a heavily sealed door, and motioned for the two flunkees in front of it to get out of the way. That being done, he strode through and into a dark, cylindrical chamber.
It was lit only by a bright halogen light, which shined directly down in a glowing column around the chained figure of female form.
She had forgotten how long she'd been there, no light and no discernible pattern to footsteps in the hallway preventing her from determining the time. Or perhaps it was their method of breaking her down- the beatings, the ear-splitting volume of music played for hours on end, no food, no water. Her hands were bound directly above her head, feet shackled tightly down. Her captors knew exactly who she was and what she was capable of, and had taken every precaution to prevent her escape.
As the door opened, Mystique opened her eyes, vision blurry as her head throbbed. She hardly noticed the ache in the rest of her body anymore.
Deadpool paused, and though it was hardly visible through his leather mask, he was grinning ear to ear. Here she was, his one and only.
"Well well well, my love, my one, my true." He said, his voice the essence of true warmth. "As you can see, we've rolled out the red carpet for you! I had Frances and Barty provide you with this lovely suite, free of charge. Are you feeling well? How was your trip in?"
His face wasn't visible, but his voice was definitely recognizable.
"Wade...." she whispered roughly. "Son of a bitch."
"Hey," Wade said. "Don't talk about pops that way. He did what he had to do to get by."
Taking a slow circle of her, he looked her up and down as if examining some fine piece of artwork. It was as if he didn't see the savage beating she'd taken so far.
"So, Blue," He said conversationally. "I got this awesome new surgery. As it turned out, my body was being slowly eaten alive by this crazy cancer – don't worry, I don't think I got it from you, though you may want to get tested – so I went to this guy I think you know, named Stryker. Well, Stryker had this wacky new procedure he was taking volunteers with, and I had nothing to lose. Guess what?"
He leaned let the silence 'build the surprise'. "I'm a mutant too!" he shouted gleefully. "Isn't that awesome! I regenerate now! That's just the base of my powers, actually, and gives me quite a few advantages – but I digress. What's important is that I know the race line was what prevented us from being together before, and now I've bridged that gap."
Mystique stared hazily at him, a golden-yellow hate building on her eyes. He was completely insane, that was obvious. Either that or he had always been. She wasn't above thinking they were both playing one another.
Her body strained in its constraints, new blood seeping from the places on her wrists where the skin had been rubbed raw.
"Together?" She snorted. "In what world did you ever think I'd want to be with you."
"Oh you're such a playful kitten!" He laughed. "What would convince me otherwise, THAT'S a much more interesting question. I knew as soon as you opened yourself up to me, Blue, that we were writ to be. Of course… I think there's something I should show you, if we're going to make this work. My mama always told me to put the cards on the table, and be honest with your lover. So here goes…"
The agent formerly known as Wade Wilson slowly pulled off his mask, revealing a horribly disfigured face, lumpy and callous.
"The X-gene didn't agree with my cancer, though it did keep me alive. Now I've got this 'burger face. But don't worry, I still look the same in the dark, right?" He nudged her with his elbow, "Eh? Eh?"
There wasn't a lot of fluid left in her body with which to spit in his face, but she did so anyway. Her knee lifted, wanting so badly to deliver a hard kick to that face, but the shackles clanked, and Mystique gritted her teeth. She could care less if he were ugly or the most beautiful man on the planet.
Her words were liquid venom in a hot, dry throat. "Lay off the bullshit, Wilson, I'm not here to exchange sweet nothings. Did they let you out of your cage as a birthday present or something?"
Wade slowly, sensually wiped the spit from his face. "They can take away your dignity, but the just can't take away your class. Seriously, though, that was H – O – T, HOT."
He sounded like he genuinely meant it.
"Actually, they put you in this cage as my birthday present. Well, more as a fruit for all my labor in this little project. As soon as I heard they suspected your involvement, I went through a hell of a lot of trouble to land you here. And here you are!" He chuckled with a sort of giddy nervousness.
Putting his mask on, he secured it tightly.
"So I was thinking we should – wait, hold the phone." He paused, looking off to one side as if talking to someone who's not there. In truth, he was looking right at the 'camera'. "This is supposed to be an interrogation isn't it? Not doing much interrogating am I? Hmmm…"
With that, he punched Mystique as hard as he could right in the stomach.
"VERE ARE DA FILES!?!" he shouted in a fake German accent. "Ve have ways of making you talk!"
He pulled her chin up, and backfisted her across the face with a passion, a meaty thud echoing throughout the small chamber.
"The files!"
Mystique's head was spinning, breath stolen from her for a moment. She'd taken far too much stress on her body to be able to adequately respond to an assault, thus avoiding further injury. Her head hung forward for a few seconds, red hair stringy in front of her face. Sucking in a breath, she coughed, a painful, exhausted sound.
"You know I won't give them what they want Wade. I can hold out for a long time." She coughed again, struggling to breathe as her stomach lurched. "And when I do say anything, I'll be leading them in the wrong direction. They won't even know it until they're days beyond being able to recover from it." She looked at him again, barely lifting her head. Blood fell from her lips, drawing in a slow line to the floor before she spit, licking her teeth.
"Oh come now, dahlin', your hurting my feelings!" He said, clearly through a smile. "I'm beginning to feel a lack of communication here. You know, they say the first thing to kill a relationship is poor communication."
He turned around, one hand tucked into the small of his back, the other scratching his chin.
"Actually, I'm going to level with you. There never was any information these guys needed from you. I made them think they did, but they really didn't."
He suddenly spun and took a gliding step forward, his movements that of a forlorn lover.
"But I just needed to see your face again! To hear your voice! To touch your – wait, no, better not say that. They hate it when you say that. I needed to be with you again. I've missed you, Raven. It feels like we've been so far apart lately."
His confession was by all means detectable genuine, and he pulled up her chin again and looked into her golden eyes, his own the very definition of heart-struck.
Sometimes, your better efforts backfire on you. Sometimes, you think you've found success, only to have the fruits of your labor rot and sprout demons under your back porch. Such was the situation Mystique found herself in, eye to eye with a monster birthed from the man that once sheltered her against the Siberian wastes.
"Wade Wilson... " she croaked, tilting her head back. The blue of her skin was blistered over with the sticky glaze of her own blood. The flood lights caught the brilliant metallic sheen on her eyes, her pupils no longer contracting, retinas ignoring the burn. Her lips opened a bit to say something further, pink tongue bruised from her teeth colliding under numerous blows. Before her response could reach it, the tension in her lithe musculature relaxed. A soft sigh left her lungs, and for a moment, it seemed she might be dead. Only someone who knew how strong she truly was would think otherwise.
Deadpool smiled beneath his mask, letting Mystique's head flop down. He looked around in a comic gesture of paranoia, and crept over towards the door. Cracking it a bit, he looked at the guards just outside.
"Better not open this door for a bit, chaps, I gotta hot date tonight!" He said, as the two looked at each other uncomfortably.
Then he tiptoed back inside, and leaned close to Mystique. "How about one last go, for old times sake? I just feel that the best part of arguing, is the make-up!"
He slowly turns his head towards the 'camera' again: "Sorry ladies and germs, here's where we fade to black!"
+++
The black sack was pulled off her head just as Deadpool's hand shoved her out of the helicopter. A rather manic "THIS IS YOU!!!" faded as she fell with a splash into the rotten muck of a swamp in the center of the Amazon.
Half rinsing the dried blood from her body with dirty water and algae, she gathered her wits around her as best she could. She hadn't been unconscious for enough of the last 24 hours to be quite as sane as she should have been in the situation.
Looking around her, she promised herself that if she lived to get back home, she'd treat herself to Wade Wilson's head on a stick.
1992. Chile. Osorno Volcano camp.
Deadpool sauntered through the halls of the underground bunker, buried within the side of the mountain. He had been waiting for this moment since he'd heard of the possibility of its fruition, nearly a year ago. It was someone else's show, of course, it always was with the Mercenary… but the long odds showed the distinct possibility of his prize showing up, and being a natural gambler, he'd taken the bet.
Sometimes you hit Yahtzee. Wait, no, Jackpot. Well what the hell, Yahtzee works.
He snubbed the varying degrees of military and corporate-military guards and soldiers he ran across them, concentrating only on his glorious prize.
After what seemed to be an eternity, he came to a heavily sealed door, and motioned for the two flunkees in front of it to get out of the way. That being done, he strode through and into a dark, cylindrical chamber.
It was lit only by a bright halogen light, which shined directly down in a glowing column around the chained figure of female form.
She had forgotten how long she'd been there, no light and no discernible pattern to footsteps in the hallway preventing her from determining the time. Or perhaps it was their method of breaking her down- the beatings, the ear-splitting volume of music played for hours on end, no food, no water. Her hands were bound directly above her head, feet shackled tightly down. Her captors knew exactly who she was and what she was capable of, and had taken every precaution to prevent her escape.
As the door opened, Mystique opened her eyes, vision blurry as her head throbbed. She hardly noticed the ache in the rest of her body anymore.
Deadpool paused, and though it was hardly visible through his leather mask, he was grinning ear to ear. Here she was, his one and only.
"Well well well, my love, my one, my true." He said, his voice the essence of true warmth. "As you can see, we've rolled out the red carpet for you! I had Frances and Barty provide you with this lovely suite, free of charge. Are you feeling well? How was your trip in?"
His face wasn't visible, but his voice was definitely recognizable.
"Wade...." she whispered roughly. "Son of a bitch."
"Hey," Wade said. "Don't talk about pops that way. He did what he had to do to get by."
Taking a slow circle of her, he looked her up and down as if examining some fine piece of artwork. It was as if he didn't see the savage beating she'd taken so far.
"So, Blue," He said conversationally. "I got this awesome new surgery. As it turned out, my body was being slowly eaten alive by this crazy cancer – don't worry, I don't think I got it from you, though you may want to get tested – so I went to this guy I think you know, named Stryker. Well, Stryker had this wacky new procedure he was taking volunteers with, and I had nothing to lose. Guess what?"
He leaned let the silence 'build the surprise'. "I'm a mutant too!" he shouted gleefully. "Isn't that awesome! I regenerate now! That's just the base of my powers, actually, and gives me quite a few advantages – but I digress. What's important is that I know the race line was what prevented us from being together before, and now I've bridged that gap."
Mystique stared hazily at him, a golden-yellow hate building on her eyes. He was completely insane, that was obvious. Either that or he had always been. She wasn't above thinking they were both playing one another.
Her body strained in its constraints, new blood seeping from the places on her wrists where the skin had been rubbed raw.
"Together?" She snorted. "In what world did you ever think I'd want to be with you."
"Oh you're such a playful kitten!" He laughed. "What would convince me otherwise, THAT'S a much more interesting question. I knew as soon as you opened yourself up to me, Blue, that we were writ to be. Of course… I think there's something I should show you, if we're going to make this work. My mama always told me to put the cards on the table, and be honest with your lover. So here goes…"
The agent formerly known as Wade Wilson slowly pulled off his mask, revealing a horribly disfigured face, lumpy and callous.
"The X-gene didn't agree with my cancer, though it did keep me alive. Now I've got this 'burger face. But don't worry, I still look the same in the dark, right?" He nudged her with his elbow, "Eh? Eh?"
There wasn't a lot of fluid left in her body with which to spit in his face, but she did so anyway. Her knee lifted, wanting so badly to deliver a hard kick to that face, but the shackles clanked, and Mystique gritted her teeth. She could care less if he were ugly or the most beautiful man on the planet.
Her words were liquid venom in a hot, dry throat. "Lay off the bullshit, Wilson, I'm not here to exchange sweet nothings. Did they let you out of your cage as a birthday present or something?"
Wade slowly, sensually wiped the spit from his face. "They can take away your dignity, but the just can't take away your class. Seriously, though, that was H – O – T, HOT."
He sounded like he genuinely meant it.
"Actually, they put you in this cage as my birthday present. Well, more as a fruit for all my labor in this little project. As soon as I heard they suspected your involvement, I went through a hell of a lot of trouble to land you here. And here you are!" He chuckled with a sort of giddy nervousness.
Putting his mask on, he secured it tightly.
"So I was thinking we should – wait, hold the phone." He paused, looking off to one side as if talking to someone who's not there. In truth, he was looking right at the 'camera'. "This is supposed to be an interrogation isn't it? Not doing much interrogating am I? Hmmm…"
With that, he punched Mystique as hard as he could right in the stomach.
"VERE ARE DA FILES!?!" he shouted in a fake German accent. "Ve have ways of making you talk!"
He pulled her chin up, and backfisted her across the face with a passion, a meaty thud echoing throughout the small chamber.
"The files!"
Mystique's head was spinning, breath stolen from her for a moment. She'd taken far too much stress on her body to be able to adequately respond to an assault, thus avoiding further injury. Her head hung forward for a few seconds, red hair stringy in front of her face. Sucking in a breath, she coughed, a painful, exhausted sound.
"You know I won't give them what they want Wade. I can hold out for a long time." She coughed again, struggling to breathe as her stomach lurched. "And when I do say anything, I'll be leading them in the wrong direction. They won't even know it until they're days beyond being able to recover from it." She looked at him again, barely lifting her head. Blood fell from her lips, drawing in a slow line to the floor before she spit, licking her teeth.
"Oh come now, dahlin', your hurting my feelings!" He said, clearly through a smile. "I'm beginning to feel a lack of communication here. You know, they say the first thing to kill a relationship is poor communication."
He turned around, one hand tucked into the small of his back, the other scratching his chin.
"Actually, I'm going to level with you. There never was any information these guys needed from you. I made them think they did, but they really didn't."
He suddenly spun and took a gliding step forward, his movements that of a forlorn lover.
"But I just needed to see your face again! To hear your voice! To touch your – wait, no, better not say that. They hate it when you say that. I needed to be with you again. I've missed you, Raven. It feels like we've been so far apart lately."
His confession was by all means detectable genuine, and he pulled up her chin again and looked into her golden eyes, his own the very definition of heart-struck.
Sometimes, your better efforts backfire on you. Sometimes, you think you've found success, only to have the fruits of your labor rot and sprout demons under your back porch. Such was the situation Mystique found herself in, eye to eye with a monster birthed from the man that once sheltered her against the Siberian wastes.
"Wade Wilson... " she croaked, tilting her head back. The blue of her skin was blistered over with the sticky glaze of her own blood. The flood lights caught the brilliant metallic sheen on her eyes, her pupils no longer contracting, retinas ignoring the burn. Her lips opened a bit to say something further, pink tongue bruised from her teeth colliding under numerous blows. Before her response could reach it, the tension in her lithe musculature relaxed. A soft sigh left her lungs, and for a moment, it seemed she might be dead. Only someone who knew how strong she truly was would think otherwise.
Deadpool smiled beneath his mask, letting Mystique's head flop down. He looked around in a comic gesture of paranoia, and crept over towards the door. Cracking it a bit, he looked at the guards just outside.
"Better not open this door for a bit, chaps, I gotta hot date tonight!" He said, as the two looked at each other uncomfortably.
Then he tiptoed back inside, and leaned close to Mystique. "How about one last go, for old times sake? I just feel that the best part of arguing, is the make-up!"
He slowly turns his head towards the 'camera' again: "Sorry ladies and germs, here's where we fade to black!"
+++
The black sack was pulled off her head just as Deadpool's hand shoved her out of the helicopter. A rather manic "THIS IS YOU!!!" faded as she fell with a splash into the rotten muck of a swamp in the center of the Amazon.
Half rinsing the dried blood from her body with dirty water and algae, she gathered her wits around her as best she could. She hadn't been unconscious for enough of the last 24 hours to be quite as sane as she should have been in the situation.
Looking around her, she promised herself that if she lived to get back home, she'd treat herself to Wade Wilson's head on a stick.