Chapter Text
It was turning out to be a suspiciously peaceful night in Manhattan... as far as criminal activity went, that is. Spider-Man swung from building to building almost listlessly. He careened through the air, swinging up onto familiar rooftop after rooftop, stopping briefly each time to surveil the area. It was becoming apparent that all of his usual haunts were eerily devoid of activity. It wasn't as though he was disappointed at the lack of commotion. Nobody was in danger that he could find, and that was what mattered. Sometimes it paid off living in a city practically overflowing with superheroes.
Maybe he could take the rest of the night off and finish writing a few papers. Lord knows he was anything but timely when it came to his course work. Yeah, he thought, Professor Martin is about at his wit’s end with me…
"And I thought I was the only one who talked to my boxes!"
Peter jumped almost a foot in the air as a gravelly, yet disconcertingly dulcet tone pierced the night air. He whipped around to face Deadpool. Why hadn't his spider sense gone off? The mercenary usually meant nothing but trouble, even though he seemed to have some sort of bizarre, fanboyish fixation on him. Plus, he totally ripped off his mask's design.
"So," Deadpool smirked cheerily through his mask, "You can keep on staring at me all starstruck - I know my dashing good looks are the envy of every belle at the ball - though I'm not wearing my evening gown at the moment, but hold on!" He began rummaging through his many pouches; none, of course, anywhere near large enough to contain an entire dress. "Honestly, you never know what's in these things, or even just behind my back, or anywhere, really, ready to deus ex machina themselves into being and, you know, actually-"
"Okay, look, stop, stop, stop." Peter interjected, a tinge of exasperation already creeping into his voice. He tried to muster up an authoritative tone. "Try to contain yourself for a moment and focus that goldfish you have in place of an attention span. Freeze the fishbowl if you need to." He planted his hands firmly on the merc's shoulders and whoa, they were huge. Deadpool was huge in general- taller than Peter by at least 4 inches and very muscular. This was going to be difficult.
"What. Are you doing. On the same roof as me. At this hour. Isn't it more like you to rush in, guns blazing? What do you want, exactly?" No papers would be getting written tonight. As the adrenaline of Deadpool's sudden appearance simmered down, Peter started to become more curious than anything. He backed off a little, putting some space between himself and the larger man. "How did you know which roof I was on?"
"Look, Spidey, I know you've got, like, important shit going on here, what with the swinging and the moping, but I'll have you know that I’m on an actual, boner-fied, S.H.I.E.L.D.-appropriated mission. Wait, now that I think of it, they did give me this thing, the foresightful bastards. Though why they thought my good word wouldn't be enough escapes me." The merc pulled a card out of one of his pouches with a little flourish before shoving it too close to Peter's face. The latter snatched it out of Deadpool's gloved hands to get a better look. It appeared authentic enough, embellished with the little bird-shaped logo, shiny laminate catching a stray neon light. There was a computer chip visibly embedded in it, which would be overkill for a fake. It even had his name and headshot on it (taken quite literally by Deadpool, who had a gun to his own head in the photo), so he knew for certain Deadpool hadn't just stolen the damn thing.
"Okay, let's say that- hypothetically, of course- I believe you. Out of anyone else at their disposal, why choose you, a well-established not-so-good guy?"
"Oh, Spidey, you wound me," Deadpool sighed melodramatically, holding his right hand over his heart. "Clearly, they entrusted me with this mission for my covertness and heroic resolve!" He stood tall, almost beaming. "So, obviously I can't tell you I'm supposed to drop in on a little get-together between Kingpin and the baddies of the week. Make the meeting less like a baby shower and more like a bloodbath, if you catch my meaning."
"What?! S.H.I.E.L.D. would not sanction something like that. I- I-" Peter faltered, momentarily pensive, brow furrowing under his mask. They did employ Barton and Romanoff, after all, who were constantly missing from Avengers Tower doing unspoken-of, less-than-savory things... Deadpool's story was slowly becoming more sound.
"Alright, the card looks legit, I'll give you that, but I can't have you just killing-"
"Assassinating," Deadpool corrected curtly, sounding almost offended, as though there was some sort of significant moral difference.
"Fine, assassinating people on my turf. There's always another way, and maybe I can help you find it." Was he really saying this? Surely he could steer Deadpool away without... teaming up. He shuddered at the thought that was quickly becoming a reality. Why him? Why tonight?
"Yay, Deadpool/Spidey team up! Woohoo! It'll be just like issue 611!" Deadpool jumped in the air, punching a fist upward in triumph. "Am I dreaming? This always happens when I'm dreaming, except usually with a lot less spandex and a lot more-"
"I’m gonna stop you before this gets any weirder than it already is- you need to tell me what we're looking at here. Where are they convening and what exactly is happening there that S.H.I.E.L.D. wants them dead?"
“Oh, my dear, sweet, Spidey. This isn’t even 2% as weird as it could be. We’re looking at suspected arms dealing between Kingpin and The Hand. I guess they need more sai and ninja disappear-yourself smoke? Not my prerogative. I just get with the killing, get gone, and get paid. Shit’s going down in Hell’s Kitchen around 46th. Now, what else do you need to know, honey buns? My shoe size, maybe? You know, they say foot size is relative to-”
“Oh my god, would you cut that out? This is serious, Deadpool.” Thankfully, there was no way Deadpool could see him blush beneath his mask. “How long do we have?”
Deadpool looked at his right wrist, miming checking a watch. “Any minute, so try and keep up!” The merc abruptly began racing ahead, making a near-impossible leap onto the next rooftop over, somersaulting, then transitioning back to his wild pace in one fluid motion. Peter quickly followed, startled by the sudden jump into action.
Several minutes of roof parkour later, they slowed down, approaching the final rooftop less frenetically. Deadpool lay down flat on his belly, peering over a gap in the roof’s ledge, as Spider-Man reluctantly followed suit. “So what’s the plan, Mr. Do-Right? How we gonna swing this without killing?” Deadpool whispered into Peter’s ear, scooting closer. They were already uncomfortably close before he had moved- at least for Peter. Before he could say anything, two shady figures carrying large duffel bags cautiously made their way into the alleyway. Luckily for them, the men weren’t exactly discreet.
“Okay, there’s two grunts, but there should be some sort of liaison for Kingpin. Ol’ Butterball would never come to one of these things alone. Or at all, for that matter. And the Hand guys are weirdly late,” Deadpool murmured. They stayed hunkered down for another short while as the tick of a manual watch seemed to grow louder and louder. Peter almost facepalmed as he noticed the watch was indeed on one of Deadpool’s wrists, but not the one he’d checked earlier.
The two men in the alleyway, now slightly more visible, appeared to be wearing well-tailored business suits. They could’ve blended right in to Manhattan’s regular nightlife, if it weren’t for their bulky cargo. Deadpool propped his head up on his elbows with an over-exaggerated yawn as they continued to linger uneventfully.
With a puff of black smoke, before Peter could even shout a warning, three Hand ninja descended upon them from behind, sai gleaming viciously. Deadpool bolted into action, unholstering two hand guns and flipping around, kneecapping two of them. Spidey knocked the third unconscious with a swift kick to the face. One of the men, bleeding profusely and clutching a knee in agony, still managed to throw several ninja stars at Peter. He expertly dodged the first two, spider sense burning, but two more embedded themselves in both his left shoulder and chest with a sickening thu-thunk. With that, the remaining ninja went down for the count.
There were still two more goons on the ground to deal with. Peter leapt down to an adjacent fire escape and tried to shoot a web with his good arm to restrain one of them. He missed his mark by a solid foot or so, and god those stars must've gone deeper than he thought. Just to make matters worse, he nearly took a spray of bullets to the chest. Deadpool leapt in front of him, taking the brunt of the barrage. A stray bullet still managed to graze Peter's temple, dazing him, while another flew straight past Deadpool and into his right leg. He crumpled to the ground from the shock, now having lost most use of two limbs.
"You don't bring AKs to a ninja battle! I even have my own sai! And shooting at my friend, too... Bad choices all around, fellas," Deadpool shouted grimly, leaping down into the alley, swords at the ready as bullets began to fall out of his chest. Before they could react, he lopped off the right hand of one of the goons as the other moved to yell into a radio before it was yanked away by a web. The now-radioless man dropped his weapon and held his hands up in surrender. Deadpool quickly sliced off his left leg at the knee as the man wailed in anguish. “Oh, walk it off, you pansy,” he said flippantly as the man fell over next to his counterpart, both now doubled over in shock.
Deadpool picked up both duffel bags, slinging each of them over a different shoulder as he vaulted up a few flights of fire escape stairs to get back up top. Peter was nearly no better off than the men on the ground, propped up against the exterior of the building like a ragdoll, and losing a lot of blood. A tuft of brown hair stuck out of the tear in his mask where the bullet had grazed.
As he began to slump down, losing consciousness rapidly, a swirling red and black figure came into his field of vision. "Saw that... said... no killing..."
“Hey, hey, now, I didn't kill anyone... not directly! They'll live if someone stops the bleeding, but those joints, man, I can't help it that they're just like the ones on Transformers! They up and fall off if you step on them even the tiniest... Spidey?” Deadpool's nervous babbling was oddly soothing. The last thing Peter saw as his world began to spin faster and darken were the somehow concerned-looking white eyes of Deadpool’s mask.
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Because nobody demanded it...
Deadpool’s Trivia!
Did you know that Andrew Garfield is the exact same height as 616 Spidey (5’10”). What’re the odds?!
When I mention issue #611, I’m talkin’ ‘bout Amazing Spider-Man #611. It’s the second-to-last time my old pal Joe Kelly wrote me, so, naturally I get to have a “your momma” joke-off with Spidey! Classic.
Don’t step on your Transformers, ladies and dweebs. It hurts like a bitch and breaks their feeble little ball-joints.