Vengeance Must Be Served!
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Post by GHOST RIDER on Mar 23, 2017 3:26:18 GMT
 For a moment the world faded away into a brilliant, blinding light. Then almost as suddenly as it had begun the strange transition ended, the world righting itself as Johnny found himself standing on a darkened city street. If he had been capable of feeling temperature during this strange parade through Wadeville, he expected it would have been cold. The area seemed vaguely familiar somehow, but he couldn't quite place it. He had done a lot of travelling. Whether it was with the carnival or since he'd become Ghost Rider, drifting from town to town was second nature to him. But large cities were not something he was fond of so if he had ever spent time in this one, it wasn't ringing any bells. Tearing himself away from the scenery he took stock of the man standing before him. It was obviously Wilson, still pre-Deadpool days, and looking as if he were strung out on something. Considering the scene he had just witnessed it wouldn't have surprised him if that hurting teen had turned to booze or something harder to dull the pain he was in. "Trust me pal, if I saw an exit ramp from this little trip through Deadpool hell I'd take it at full speed. Following ya ain't exactly a choice," he replied, anger in his eyes. That anger faded quickly however as he stepped closer to the young man. "Yer damn right that upset me. I've seen the other side, I know what happens to suicides. And you are...were so young. Its just...I've seen too many lives stamped out before their time. Worse still when they do it to themselves." Despite the lack of cold or anything else really, Blaze shoved his hands in the pockets of his leather jacket to stop himself from mindlessly trying to interact with things that he clearly couldn't. He shifted uncomfortably as Wade explained the story he usually gave people, tried not to snicker at the reactions takes of Deadpool tied down Dr. No style must have elicited over the years, and shook his head remembering the truth behind those scars. "I get it. Always go with the story chicks dig. After getting the surround sound version of the truth, I think I'd stick with that too," he said trying to still his own nerves. "So...where and when are we now? Please tell me this is the part where you become a killer for hire?" He sincerely hoped that was what he was going to see. A murder or some other crime, something that set Wade Wilson down the path to becoming a notorious assassin that killed simply for profit. Something to justify this having him relive that first stop on the Deadpool Misery Tour, something that would let Johnny not feel like crap for using the Stare. Surely, there was something that warranted reliving the horror of that bedroom.
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Yes, that's a gun in my pocket. But that doesn't mean I'm not happy to see you.
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Post by Deadpool on Mar 23, 2017 3:29:56 GMT
The sound of Wade laughing seemed to resound from his mouth, though the melancholy expression on his face didn't change to match the sarcastic chuckle, a trail of tobacco smoke dancing along his features in the low lamplight of the glowing city street. “Guess I'll never know if you're right, Hot Rod. I didn't die then...and everything kinda just went sideways from there.” He stood up from his position on the stair, his stance a bit unsteady, his entire body seeming to wince and shudder in all-over pain as he wrapped his arms around himself to hold himself together. “Or maybe I did die, and I've been on 'the other side' this whole time. In which case, yeah, it f**k**g sucks, dude.” Wade shakily and slowly started moving down the street, his head raised up as high as he could to behold the skies above Boston and breathe in deep of its cold, night air, though his breathing was labored and choppy. “Ugh...like really sucks...I think I'm still running on autopilot here, so if you're gonna keep running this guardian angel routine, you might wanna start hauling ass over there. You got a name, by the way? Or am I just gonna call you Scorpion this whole trip?”
Every inch of shadow crawling alongside the buildings was agonizing, as shooting pain and nausea haunted his every step and beads of sweat formed heavily upon his brow. The look in his eyes upon every structure, creature, and human was the same as it had when he looked at his reflection back in the bedroom before his suicide attempt, a look that echoed sadly with reluctant goodbyes. “Okay...where and when...” Wade repeated, clenching his teeth together suddenly as his whole body flinched and tightened, pressing himself against the stone brick of a building to keep himself standing and sucked down the last of the nearly burnt down cigarette he still carried in his mouth.
“Where is Boston, Mass. When is, yeah, after I became a mercenary. The me around now would've probably snapped at you for that 'killer' comment, though. I was...kinda picky about the jobs I took at the time. Had this insane little thought in my head that I would only take on jobs that mattered, you know? Ones that would make a difference in the world. That I could stand up for those that couldn't stand for themselves. Like Captain America or something, toppling dictatorships and busting up crime rings.” He let the butt of the cigarette fall to the ground, only to slide his back down against the brick to the sidewalk himself, looking up wearily at Johnny from the ground while pulling his knees in close to his chest. “Stupid, right? Especially considering how I ended up in the end anyway.”
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Vengeance Must Be Served!
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Post by GHOST RIDER on Mar 23, 2017 3:34:39 GMT
_in_human_form.JPG/revision/latest?cb=20120115025557) Johnny sighed. At one point the only person he had to worry about giving him nicknames was Spider-Man whenever they crossed paths. Now he was getting it from the guy who technically should not be able to talk to him at all following the Stare. "Name's Johnny," he replied, eyeing Wade strangely. "So what's the deal huh? You sick or something? Smoke one too many? Because you kind of look like crap. Not the over baked microwave lasagna crap you had going on before, or will have later, or...whatever. Still, you look like you are at Death's door or something." Walking over beside Wade and leaning on a wall that technically wasn't there (Blaze didn't want to think about it too hard lest he get a migraine) he listened to his story. It both shocked him and didn't. On the one hand he couldn't think of a kid alive that didn't want to grow up to be Captain America or a hero at the very least. On the other...this was Deadpool. He had heard stories about him, heard the way the costumes talked about him with a mix of anger and disdain. This was not a man he pictured wanting to be the good guy. After all, he killed people. For money. That was it. Not for a grudge or for the greater good or even because he was pissed off. He straight up murdered people for the almighty dollar. Yet here he was, looking like death warmed over, claiming he had wanted to be a hero. "So you had a code? A mercenary with rules, is that it? Well golly that changes everything!" he said mockingly. Looking at him he could see the sincerity in his eyes and almost felt bad for that last barb. "Okay, let's ignore the fact that Captain America, to the best of my knowledge, never bumped people off for the promise of a paycheck. We'll just call the whole killer for hire thing a misstep. Maybe you killed some bad people that had it coming. I can't fault you for that and if you were smart enough to get paid for doing it...well maybe I should take some lessons, cause the whole Spirit of Vengeance thing sure as hell doesn't let me pay rent. So what changed? How did you go from being an idealist that looked up to Cap as an example to what I found in that bar?" Glancing around once more he realized he wasn't a terribly big fan of the locale either. "And why Boston? Working for the mob or something? Maybe my knowledge of mercenary work comes from 80's flicks and comic books, but why aren't you over in some African jungle sniping a warlord or down in South America eliminating cartel members?"
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Yes, that's a gun in my pocket. But that doesn't mean I'm not happy to see you.
Moderator
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Post by Deadpool on Mar 23, 2017 3:35:35 GMT
“It wasn't about the money!” Wade shouted with deep-seated resentment as his head leaned against his knees, every part of him shivering in pain. “It was about getting my damn foot in the door! Getting the means to find these places and people and doing something about them, because someone else had that info! I was no super or costume freak – I was just a guy with a very particular and deadly set of skills. Nothing more.”
Still quivering with sickness, he shifted to lean himself more comfortably against the brick of the wall, staring blankly at a neon sign blinking on and off in various patterns from across the street. “Everything changes eventually. The whole world just keeps shifting and moving and bending until eventually idealism crashes and burns. I tried to keep my head up, kept trying to live and do right by others, even though everything seemed to pile up against me. My dad, my career...my health...I just thought if I just pulled myself up by my bootstraps, make it through another today, I could flip yesterday the bird and spit in its face, because I managed to make it long enough to tell another tale.”
Wade fumbled to retrieve the carton of cigarettes and lighter from his pocket again, lighting up another to calm his aching everything. “I wanted to be the hero. Sometimes circumstances put you on the right path to do that. My circumstances had other plans.” He took a long, slow drag off of his smoke, tasting it fully against his tongue before gently releasing it in a prolonged stream with a sigh. “As for why Boston, I originally ended up here on a job. Human trafficking deal that I broke up with a couple other guys. Kinda messy, honestly, I'll spare you all the gory details, but we got it done, went for drinks to celebrate after. That's when I met--”
“Wade Winston Wilson! What in the hell are you doing out here?!”
The angry, locally-accented voice of a woman called out from the corner of the street, the image of her coming clear into view as she marched quickly to Wade's side, her far-too-tall heels clicking against the sidewalk as her fluffy hair bobbed up and down as she moved. Her clothes were incredibly tight and revealing, leaving little to the imagination, with small tears running down her pantyhose and the faux fur on her jacket matted and ragged from age.
“Nessa,” Wade finished, though whether to the woman or to Johnny, it was difficult to tell.
“Don't you Nessa me! You could catch pneumonia out here in your state!” The threat of tears clung to the corners of her eyes as she attempted to pull the mercenary to his feet. “And f**k**g smoking, too?! The hell is wrong with you? We're trying to get you better, not kill you faster!!”
“Maybe we should be...” he mumbled in reply as far under his breath as he could muster, though of course Vanessa manged to catch it, her face twisted in grief at these words, taking Wade by the arm and leading him back to their shared apartment, phasing through where Johnny stood.
“Don't talk like that, Wade. You're...you're just tired. It's just the chemo talking...I know it sucks, love, but you'll get through it. We'll get through it, together, just like always.”
Wade's eyes furrowed into a softened look of despair as he locked his gaze into Blaze's eyes as he was pulled passed him. “Spoiler alert.”
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Vengeance Must Be Served!
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Post by GHOST RIDER on Mar 23, 2017 3:37:01 GMT
Johnny watched the scene unfold, listening to Deadpool as he explained how he had gone from some wide eyed optimist who thought he could make the world better to being a cynical, albeit wisecracking mercenary. Or maybe that was just Blaze projecting. He could relate, to a degree. He'd never really thought about making the world better, had no aspirations to be a hero, figuring that was best left to people of better temperaments and ethics, but he too had stars in his eyes in the way back when. He pictured getting out of the circus, going on independent circuits as a stunt performer, maybe getting some sponsorships. Roxanne and he would have been living high on the hog, they'd have a family, and he's join the ranks of extreme sports' greats maybe even breaking out into movies when he got too old or too beat up to jump anymore. That of course was before he woke up, before he realized how the world really worked, before Crash came down with cancer and he'd cut a deal to save his life. Before the Rider.
Now his dreams were replaced by nightmares and a trail of the dead, both those deserving and not deserving of such a fate. Looking at the woman, the way she showed genuine concern for Wade despite his being ill, reminded him of Roxanne. She had stuck by his side even when he didn't deserve it, stayed with him even after he ended up toying with the occult again despite having been free of the Rider for years. She just wanted to take care of him, to have him step away from danger, to have their love be enough. But as much as he had hated Zarathos he had also become used to the power, to making a difference that regular old Johnny Blaze couldn't. Besides, magic and flaming skeletons was an adrenaline rush and he couldn't get that even from the most dangerous of jumps. In the end it had cost him. Roxanne, his kids, and his chance at a normal life. Granted it wasn't completely his fault, Mephisto and Zadkiel and who knew how many other supernatural heavyweights had been conspiring to curse him once again, but he had opened the door for them. Wade at least seemed grateful for the woman even if it did end badly. Had he screwed up a good thing, just like Blaze had?
Shaking himself from his own memories he followed along and sighed.
"Okay, so level with me here Deadpool. You wanted to be like the other spandex wearing dorks out there, fighting the good fight and all that. You grew disillusioned sure, but you still had a conscience. You took down really bad people despite your deteriorating health. You had the girl. What happened? How did you go from this to what you are now or will be later or...however the hell this works?"
Considering his own story involved the lengths someone would go through when fighting a illness (whether their own or not), the limits they'd push to get one more day or hour of breath, and to some degree another girl hooked up with a guy that didn't deserve her, he should have realized how much of a hypocrite he was being. After all not a day went by that he didn't wonder what he could have done differently, didn't ponder if like so many people since he had gotten Roxanne killed. Were they gone because he had chosen magic and the thrill of the dark arts over being satisfied with his family? Or was it like Wade said, things always changed and circumstances just didn't line up...for either of them?
Following along he felt a knot in his stomach. He really didn't want to know what Wade meant by "spoiler alert" but he had a feeling he was going to get to see it in all its gory detail.
"Deadp--Wade, what happened? I don't pretend to know what merc work pays, but you could afford doctors right? Something? Please tell me you listed to...Nessa was it? You got help, treatment, something?"
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Yes, that's a gun in my pocket. But that doesn't mean I'm not happy to see you.
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Post by Deadpool on Mar 23, 2017 3:38:46 GMT
Vanessa's heels clicked hurriedly along the sidewalk as she led Wade back the direction he had wandered from in the midst of his feverish daydream, the incorporeal Johnny Blaze following close behind still firing off a barrage of questions. The gaunt and weak man dug his heels in and stopped short in front of the apartment stairs, as if hesitating to continue, his distressed lady friend pausing upon the first step to look back at him, fraught with worry, but fixing a sweetened smile upon her face to reassure him.
“What happened? The same thing that always happens. I got locked up in my own head again with all those old, nagging, painful thoughts. After I left my father's house, I never wanted to be a burden on anyone ever again. Be able to make it out there on my own, not needing to rely on anyone else to take care of me. And then cancer decided to smack the taste outta my mouth for even considering it.”
Wade took a few steps closer to the beautifully sad creature standing upon the stair, taking both her hands into his, but not daring to look her in the eye, opting to stare down at the darkened pavement instead.
“Vanessa...my beautiful, amazing Vanessa...she tried so hard. I know she did. She'd keep that smile on her face as long as she could, laughing and joking but...but I know, deep down, she resented me for it. I was supposed to be this white knight for her. The charming prince that was supposed to whisk her away off the streets to the life she deserved, where she'd be treated like a queen. And here she was worrying and working herself up over a man who was slowly dying in her bed instead. That's not the life I wanted to give her. It wasn't the life she deserved. Treatments or no, I was going to die. The cancer had spread so far that any sort of surgery or pumping my blood full of poison would only net me another month of...this. Throwing any money I had saved up at the problem wasn't going to fix it this time and I didn't want to prolong it and to watch her heart die along with me. It was all for nothing...just a waste at this point, and I couldn't stand for it. I wouldn't stand for it. So I stopped going to chemo...”
“What?!” Vanessa's face dropped at this last sentence, the only part of Wade's discussion with the Rider that it seemed she was meant to be a part of. “Wade, that's...that's insane! I thought...you promised, Wade, you said we'd get through this...you said...”
“I know, babe, it's just...I can't...I can't do this anymore...” He stroked quivering fingers against her cheek, brushing strands of her light hair out of her face and behind her ear with a sad, serious gaze. “Ness...real talk, real face, hon. Please.” Her face seemed to pale at these words as she bit down on her lower lip and turned away from him sharply to go inside.
The inside of Wade and Vanessa's shared home was spacious, though perhaps a little cluttered, with framed posters of cult classic films lining the walls and geeky paraphernalia and trinkets from all over the world littering most every surface. The furnishings were comfortable, and definitely far nicer than one would expect from an escort's salary, making it obvious that Wade's former mercenary work was what had been keeping them afloat for most of their relationship. Waiting by the front door as the pair entered was a dufflebag, stuffed full to capacity and practically bulging at several points. Several bottles of different sized and colored medications were strewn about among the growing avalanche of paperwork printed with medical jargon that neither of the tenants rightly understood, and the two sat down together on the slightly worn-in couch, Vanessa's hands held tightly into Wade's.
“Real talk, real face...” she repeated in an aching whisper, and closed her eyes, the shade of her hair and skin and the shape of her form flickering and softly shifting like an old projector image to silver locks and azure flesh, her features becoming slightly more pointed and elf-like. She opened her eyes again to look upon her dying lover, her irises now a rich scarlet amongst a sea of black sclera. Wade curled his fingers beneath her chin and pulled her close to kiss her as her transformation completed, but thought better of it just a breath away from laying his lips upon hers, pulling back at the very last moment. He studied her true face, memorizing every curve, every dimple, every flaw and perfection of her before he spoke again.
“Nessa...I know what you're gonna say, so please just let me talk. I've been doing a lot of thinking,”
“Shocking,” Vanessa interrupted sarcastically with a forced smirk, before it faded back to a serious, albeit distraught expression. “Sorry...can't help myself. You were thinking...?”
Wade allowed a tiny, weakened laugh to come through, but his heart wasn't in it. “Yeah, thinking and thinking...about you, about us, about where to go from here. And...I'm done Ness. It's not worth seeing you like this anymore.”
“No no no no no, Wade, what the f**k are you saying? You're just gonna let yourself die? That's it? Cancer pops into our lives and you're just going to give up, just like that? That's not you! That's not the man I love!”
“Nessa...”
“No way, we're gonna fight this thing. We're gonna get through it and win and then we'll live happily ever after, just like you always said, Wade. You promised me we'd get through this. Together!”
“Ness, c'mon, please hear me out.”
“NO! I will not hear you out because you're talking like a goddamn crazy person!” She was on a full scale tirade now, screaming as hard as she could just to make sure he heard every word, despite him trying to talk over her at points. “Do you realize that? That you sound insane right now? Are you trying to just get a f**k**g rise out of me and get me all bent outta shape like this? Because it's f**k**g working, Wade. But you damn well better listen to me. Listen to me! You will get better, do you hear me? We just need to keep the treatments going and not lose hope--”
“I lost hope months ago!” Wade finally shouted over her frenzied anger, his own rage and despair pouring out all at once. He moved away from her and began pacing hypnotically back and forth across the floor, ripping his hair backwards in between his fingers. “God damn it, Vanessa, there is no hope anymore! There never was any! I am going to die, plain and simple, and nothing is going to change that. I'll just waste away to a f**k**g husk and there's no way I'm ever gonna allow you to see me that way!”
Vanessa remained struck down by silence, her red eyes wide and welled over with heavy tears as Wade angrily continued. “I'm already f**k**g dead, okay? If it helps you get over it faster, just consider me to have died a long time ago. Because I am not, I repeat, am not going to drag you down to hell with me, got it? You're still a kid, Ness, you've got your whole life still ahead of you. Me? I'm living on borrowed time, and I'm not borrowing it from you. Not anymore.”
“Wade...” Vanessa choked, wet tears streaking down her face and dripping off the end of her chin. “I'll...I'll give you all the time I have! I love you! We're supposed to be together...us against the world, remember?”
Wade breathed in sharply, his chest jerking out of rhythm from the pain of taking in air, keeping a frighteningly stoic face on now. He reached down towards the sobbing woman and gently brushed her tears away as she looked upon him with a flash of hopeful adoration in her eyes. “I loved her more than I could love anyone,” he said softly to the watching Rider, keeping his gaze upon Vanessa's elfin and tear-stained features. “I was stupid and scared and I loved her so much...and I broke her heart. I already had made up my mind that I was leaving, and nothing she could say was going to convince me otherwise. I had heard it all a million times before as it was. But there was so much I needed to say, and all of it was left unsaid. At this point, all I was able to get out was...”
His fingers trailed off the end of her chin, wanting to hold her close but kept his heart at a distance. “...Goodbye, Ness.”
With that, Wade moved towards the front door, shaking with pain and unfathomable grief as he grabbed up the dufflebag waiting for him and headed out of the apartment, Vanessa's wails and pleas for him to stay nothing more than white noise in the back of his head. He practically ran down the street this time, his breathing labored and shallow, and stopped short after several blocks, nearly collapsing in front of a seedy looking dive bar, the neon lights flashing on and off sporadically. Gasping for air, Wade held tightly against his heart and leaned against the brick of the building, looking behind him to make sure that Vanessa hadn't tried to follow him, and finding the Ghost Rider instead. He immediately burst into tears himself and allowed his entire body to slump to the ground in a depressed heap, sobbing and choking breathlessly. “Is this why you came after me, Johnny? Is this who the legendary Ghost Rider was seeking vengeance for, after all these years? It wasn't enough to f**k**g punish myself?”
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Vengeance Must Be Served!
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Post by GHOST RIDER on Mar 23, 2017 4:08:18 GMT
Johnny stood in silence for a long moment, unable to actually look in Deadpool’s direction let alone make eye contact. All of that, all that Wade had been through, it was heartbreaking and he felt more than a little guilt over having forced him to relive it all. Chances were that he replayed these things over and over himself, whenever he had a quiet moment or when whatever passed for sanity in that messed up brain of his ended up pushing its way to the surface.
But he is still a mercenary. He kills for money. And that… he thought, before trailing off. That is at least a reason. He has a choice in the matter sure, but at least money is a motive most people get. Me? I get dragged along, pulled here and there by a supernatural force that I just have to trust is right whenever he decides to turn someone to a pile of ashes.
Which begged the question…had Ghost Rider gotten it wrong? If Wade hadn’t deserved this then why did the Rider allow Johnny to attack him in the first place and why had he pulled out his most devastating weapon to accomplish the job? It made no sense.
HEY BONEHEAD! What the actual hell was this all about? We just sent this guy down memory lane for no freaking reason! He’s a pain in the ass, annoying beyond measure, but deep down he isn’t the monster everyone thought he was. You got it…
Before he could finish ranting at Zarathos he heard something.
But you interfered! the voice said.
It wasn’t Zarathos, not actively at least. Just the memory of their brief conversation from the bar. He had doubted Zarathos and the woman in white had escaped while her victims paid the price. Hardheaded as he was, he was not going to allow himself to be that stupid twice in one night. If Zarathos had done this, he did it for a reason. Nothing the Spirit of Vengeance did was at random or without some higher purpose. The question however was whether this was a message, a lesson for Blaze, for Deadpool, or the both of them.
“Look, Wade I-I’m sorry. It’s just…you are a mercenary. Every merc I have ever run across, whether they work for criminal organizations or hell itself have cared only about the almighty dollar. Truth is, I was not able to visit vengeance upon those who had it coming. I screwed up, big time, and people suffered for it. I thought that if I went after you I could balance the scales a little. But man, there is nothing that can balance…this. Nothing to wipe the slate clean and realign the universe. I thought…I was wrong.”
I’ve been wrong a lot. Too many times. he thought.
Watching Wade walk away from Vanessa he couldn’t help but wonder if that was what he should have done with Roxanne. He had, at first. Running and wandering, being the Rider as he was yanked all over by cosmic forces, like a pawn in the world’s longest running game of chess, never knowing if he was doing good or ill. Then he made a mistake. He went home, thinking that since he was free of Zarathos (for what had to be ten thousandth time he thought the curse was broken) and realized that he missed it.
The thrill of fighting monsters, of punishing those that had it coming, and the rush of danger associated with being the Ghost Rider. He missed all of it, but rather than cling to his wife and kids as he had wanted for so long, he began to dabble in the occult once more. He didn’t know if it was that stupidity that drew evil to them once more or if God himself was punishing him for having it all and still wanting more, but either way it was all taken away from him. First, he went on the road with Danny, trying to guide the new Rider. Then his kids were kidnapped, his family history revealed to him by the Caretaker, and finally when it seemed he was going to get that happy ending all that gave his life meaning was taken away. Roxanne, the kids, and even his circus. All turned to embers and his curse restored.
Wade wanted to be with her, he left because he couldn’t risk hurting her more. It was likely the wrong choice, but made for the right reasons. Had he not had cancer, he would have stayed. She was enough. I had that too and no cancer, not even the cancerous sore that Zarathos was for so long, and yet my family wasn’t enough. I just had to have the thrills. I never should have went back to them in the first place, never should have brought my life down on them. Deadpool had legit reasons. I was just an adrenalin junkie…
“Wade…the Ghost Rider he...it…he doesn’t make mistakes. This isn’t vengeance, it isn’t punishment, it is nothing compared to what you do to yourself. So this must be…he has to be trying to show you something.”
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Yes, that's a gun in my pocket. But that doesn't mean I'm not happy to see you.
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Post by Deadpool on Mar 24, 2017 3:03:56 GMT
Passing headlights of cars reflected against the thick, heavy streams of tears dribbling down the ailing man's face as he held tight to himself, shivering in pain and a deep despair. Each intake of breath, each labored sob was more agonizing on his body than the last, as if the next mournful wail would be the one to finally stop his heart, quiet his cries, and end his suffering. But that end refused to draw near, lingering just out of reach of his fingertips, as it would for the rest of his unnaturally long life, though Wade hadn't known it at the time.
So instead he grieved, angry and sorrowful and terrified, glaring directly into the hardened eyes of the Rider's host through a flood of bitter tears. “You're a mercenary, a mercenary, a killer for hire, that's all I've f**king heard from you all f**king night! I've dethroned dictators that would murder their own people for a goddamn laugh, I've broken up criminal syndicates that held the strings of entire cities in their blinged-out fingers, and rescued women and children from trafficking rings that makes Taken seem like a romp through a goddamn Disney classic! But the second I accept a paycheck, that immediately negates everything?” Wade seemed to choke on his words, grimacing through gritted teeth before looking down to his knees and away from Blaze, teardrops trailing off the end of his nose and chin. “Trying to just survive in this freaking world, refusing to allow the woman I love to go wanting for even one day....that automatically makes me the bad guy? That for some thoroughly screwed up reason, God or angels or some otherworldly force believes that I deserved a smiting? That I needed to learn something from all this bullsh*t like a goddamn after-school special? What sort of cruel force do you f**king work for anyway?!”
The man who would be Deadpool looked up suddenly at the sound of a car door slamming shut, followed by footsteps against the sidewalk approaching him, finding a well-dressed man with slicked, black hair standing over him with a stern, yet somehow smug smirk painted across his face. “If you're blubbering like this,” he said casually with a hint of amused and obviously false concern, his voice like an earthworm wriggling upon pavement after a wicked rainstorm, “that must mean your loose ends are tied. You made your choice then, Mr. Wilson?”
Wade sniffled and wiped his face clean with the back of his sleeve as he regained his bearings and what little dignity he felt he had left in this moment. He simply nodded quickly at the man, and grabbed hold of the hand he offered to pull back to his feet, his eyes blotchy red in the low lamplight and flashing neon.
“Ghost Rider....Johnny....please....”
“You understand, Mr. Wilson, that there are no guarantees with this procedure. There's a very high and likely chance that you might not survive the entire operation.”
“Whatever lesson...whatever this whole crazy train has been about...I suggest you get to the point right about now.
“It might kill you faster. It might further mutate your cancer into something worse. It might do nothing. Or it might save your life and make you into something beyond your wildest imagination.”
“...because I know what happens next...”
The man in the suit put an arm around Wade as if he were a dear friend, gesturing with his opposite hand towards the car he had arrived in with a slimy smile. “This is your last chance to reconsider. It is a life-altering decision, after all.”
“...I'm begging you, Johnny. Please. Please don't make me live this again...”
“I'd understand if you needed a bit more time to get the last of your affairs in order. Or if you've changed your mind...”
Wade narrowed his eyes, weighing the options in his head with a lost look, though he already understood that in this moment he had none but the one dancing tauntingly before him. He shrugged the other man's arm off of him, as if he were as unpleasant to the touch as his smarmy grin, and took a few steps to the car the agent had arrived in. “My mind's as made up as it's ever been. So let's get this over with. If I'm gonna go, might as well go big, right?”
“Wise words, Mr. Wilson. And a wise decision. I assure you, we'll do our best to take care of you in the way that you deserve. Welcome to the Weapon Plus Project, Department K.”
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Vengeance Must Be Served!
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Post by GHOST RIDER on Apr 15, 2017 22:24:34 GMT
Johnny stared on, eyes wide and desperate. Unlike Wade, he didn't know what came next, but between witnessing his attempted suicide, the events with Vanessa, and getting an eyeful of just how terrible Wade Wilson's life had been he wasn't interested in seeing more. He also wasn't interested in forcing Wade to experience whatever further terrors and torment had turned him into the far from sane Deadpool. Unfortunately, stopping it was not up to Blaze. Dammit Zarathos! Stop this! End this crap! Deadpool is not the best human alive, but he isn't deserving of this! There are a lot of people who are, but Deadpool isn't as bad as even he thinks he is! End it, now!As usual, the Spirit of Vengeance ignored his host. Johnny's pleas were met with nothing but silence. The booming crackle of a voice, one filled with equal parts power, determination, and rage was nowhere to be found. "Wade!" Johnny started. " I can't, I'm not...I am not in control here. The Rider he's not answering!" Screaming internally he raged against the Spirit of Vengeance to no avail. "The stare...it isn't supposed to work like this! This isn't what it does!" he explained as Wade approached the car with the suited man. Or does it? How the hell do I really know what the Penance Stare is about or does? I know what I was told it does, I know only Danny could do it before and that after Strange deep-fried my ass Zarathos rose once more and has had it ever since! Ketch is as close to an expert on it as I've ever known and he didn't even fully get it!"Deadpool, talk to me. Try not to focus too much on...whatever this is. Just...talk to me. walk me through things. Maybe we can figure out what it is The Rider is doing. This isn't a flaw, a mistake," He said, hoping it was the truth. "The Rider always has a purpose behind its actions. If we can figure out what it is it wants you to see, maybe this will end." Deadpool
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