Mr. Pool’s Comments (group member since Sep 18, 2019)

Mr. Pool’s comments from the Our Marvel Universe: Impending Doom group.

"Well I figured if you knew how to make a bomb out of a water heater, some old decorations, and a recliner- we just lure them all inside-"

The first of the bullets broke through the window, as Wade ducked and stepped to the side.

"And make the hotel go boom-boom?"

Wade knew this blast wouldn't cause him any long lasting damage, but had failed to consider that Yelena had no healing capabilities.

"Excuse me?" Wade raised a finger. "I'm aware. Fully aware."

"Perf-"

Wade stopped cold as he stared outside one of the low windows- and with a very animated laugh, waved to someone outside. "So, good news. There are not nearly as many of them as I thought there would be."

Wade paused for a a minute, counting one more time in his head. Two SUV's, four gunmen, and the Devil himself. Partsouf. It could have been much worse. One of the men had two dogs leashed at his belt, and seemed excited to release them into the hotel.

"Bad news?" He continued to wave. "They clearly see me, and despite my friendliness I believe are still completely intent on my death. These windows... What're the odds they're bullet-proof?"

((Sorry its been SUCH A BUSY WEEKEND.))

"Oh I'll get your name right," Wade grinned. "When you remind me what it is because I won't lie, I've completely forgotten."

Wade began to scour the room frantically, throwing pieces of decoration across it as he looked; as if he were disparately looking for some very specific piece of equipment.

"Tell me, you're Russian yes? Do you know how to make a bomb? Also, can you speak french?"

"No!"

Wade stood up extremely abruptly and shouted. "Don't you dare. I wanna watch the light fade from this guys eyes. I wanna smell his final, fiery, french breath, and hear his consequential moaning... I love to hear them moan...." He trailed off in this manner for several seconds, pacing back and forth and then raising a finger excitedly.

"Eureka! Yoltara, darling... I'm gonna need your help. What do you say you and I form a little alliance. Stop a bad guy. Save some kids. You know, good guy stuff?"

Wade had now made his way to an old, broken lobby chair in the corner and was sitting with his feet propped up- completely disinterested in the scene playing outside.

"Do you see a douchey looking guy, about 5 11", bald, probably wearing a white suit?"

"For the readers explanation- this 'douchey looking guy' is Partsouf, and like I said- he's an absolute pig-fu@ker. I've only seen him a handful of times, and every time he's been in white. I wanna make it red. With blood. In case that wasn't clear."

"Not a problem!" Wades voice cracked as they arrived at the bottom of the stairwell. "Not at all."

He opened the door into the basement to find that it was a large boiler room, filled with storage boxes, a water heater, and several decommissioned hotel 'decorations' that were piled up against the walls.

"Wow this place is way more of a hole than I expected. Why'd we come down here again? Were you just trying to get me alone?" He teased, walking into the dark basement to get a better look at everything.

"Great a basement." Wade forced an audibly fake laugh, and stood up without assistance. "Not a fan of basements- unless they're neon lit, filled with booze, and smell like the cleaning lady's name is Glitter."

Wade thought he'd argue, but then instead simply agreed and followed Yelena towards the stairwell in the corner of the lobby. The people that still remained in the lobby were screaming or crying, frantically collecting themselves and running out- only to run back in at the sound of gunfire. "Well, I'm leaving a horrible hotel review on Yelp. This place in an absolute sty."

They two entered the stairwell and began to climb down the stairs. "Hold the phone Daria Strokus. Why are you even helping me out?"

"Seems to me"- Frank looked at the nearest body on the ground- and sighed. "You are working in Hell's Kitchen. I'll ask you one more time." He raised his gun again directly at her head, and frowned. "Who are you and your men working for, and what do you want with this hell hole?"

Frank thought in this moment that he should've reached out to one of his Defender acquaintances, just to let them know he was coming back. Matt, probably would've warned him against it- claiming he'd try and bring Frank in. Jessica, would've laughed. No, Frank was alone.

"Tell me now."

Without thinking, Wade sunk into her neck like a puppy and exhaled. "In your arms seems like the safest place to be, my lingerie entrepreneurial amazon."

Despite the fact that he felt his motor skills had returned for most of his body, he pretended to remain limp- partially because he enjoyed being carried, and partially because he wanted to see to what extent Yelena would be willing to actually carry him.

He was aware that there were surely men stationed outside, probably snipers. If Partsouf had even half the resources Wade anticipated, there was a small army outside waiting for his exit.

"I'm thinking, probably nowhere."

"The Winter Soldier?" Frank rolled his eyes at the campy name. "You make one move I don't approve of, I'll put you down." He slowly lowered his gun, and holstered it- but kept the safety off. "Who are you working for? And why are your people in Hell's Kitchen?"

Frank couldn't believe he was again in this situation. He hated playing cop. He hated having to be the "good guy"; but whatever this chick and these goons were up to, he was unfortunately now involved. In a way he worried, he couldn't escape until they were all dead.

"Who are you, again?"

Frank maintained his aim, ready to release a flurry of bullets if the woman made any unnecessarily fast movements. It was at this point he caught the glint of her metallic arm, and adjusted his position to compensate for his shock.

"What are you?"

"Wow. You're like a physical manifestation of Oprah's verbal fire. Hooah." Deadpool was still paralyzed for the most part on the ground, the remainder of the shocking effect leaving his system slowly. No more goons were entering, but there was still the sound of more vehicles approaching from outside.

"I'm not gonna lie. I'm feeling all the bad kind of tingles- and for you readers, some good tingles too."

He craned his neck to look at Yelena, and sighed. "Help a guy get up, will ya? Sometimes we need a little help."

((No clue I'm just going. Haha. To quote Troy, "This could be the start, of something new."

"This time?!" Wade screamed, now throwing the nearest serving spoon at another one of the goons- and watched it lodge about four inches in the mans chest, before the raised a gun and began to fire. "This time?! You think this happens a lot?!"

"It does." He took the time to explain.

Another bullet landed on Wade's chest. "I want my swords!"

In his very most dramatic display, Wade pulled two butter knifes from the utensil cup nearest him and took off towards the men- wielding the knives like he did his katanas. He got shot a few more times sure- but brought the first knife up against one of the goons throats- and then sent the second through the skull of the one with a spoon in his chest.

"See! Size doesn't matter!" He removed it from his skull, and looked back at Yelena. "Domo arigato!"

Taking his eyes off the lobby door for only a second, would screw him over. Two more goons ran in, and one of them threw a small disc onto Wade's back- that shocked him so greatly he fell to the floor; temporarily paralyzed.

"Ow ow ow ow ow!" He twitched on the ground. Despite his best efforts, he could not move. The men grabbed him and began to carry him away.

"No they're here for the fuc#(ing eggs!" Deadpool threw his head back and groaned; somewhat annoyed by the room's sense of apathy towards the fact that they were all about to potentially die. "Of course they're here for me."

It was at this point, that the first two men tore through the front door of the hotel and brought down the receptionist with a shot to he head. They were dressed darkly, but casually- wearing blacks and grey's. Instinctively, Wade picked up the waffle iron and threw it across the expanse of the lobby sending it crashing into one of them and dropping him to the floor. "I prefer mine soggy-"

The second one immediately began to fire at Wade- who took three bullets to the gut and then sighed. "I really need to get this cleaned." A couple more men burst into the hotel behind, and began to open fire on the few civilians in the lobby.

As she walked towards the hotel buffet-

"Can I just say thank God for breakfast buffets." Wade interrupted the writing.

As she walked towards the hotel buffet Wade followed behind, closely enough to stay in range of the scent of her perfume, but far enough away to have a good view. The smell of hotel bacon got him going in a wonderful kind of way as they moved into the kitchenette portion of the lobby. As Yelena began to prep her plate, Wade simply skipped the line and began the process of making a waffle in the hotels waffle maker.

It was at this point, he sensed something was wrong. The sirens outside had stopped- and there were voices coming from the other side of the blurred windows. French voices. Evil french voices. Of course, Wade didn't speak french. But they sounded particularly douchey.

"Partsouf you pig-fuc@#r. I just wanted a waffle."

Despite how often Wade's opponents seemed to end up naked during their fights, he far too often forgot to check for wires or taps- and a gunshot from outside followed by a scream confirmed it to him. They had come for him. And not in the fun way.

(( You go ahead!))

Frank heard the whispered curse from around the corner and rolled his eyes. "I'm done with this." He pulled the gun from his holster and ensured it was loaded- preparing to turn the corner and put a bullet in someones head. His heart pounded as he prepped and in one swift motion turned the corner found himself aiming his gun directly over the head of a crouching woman- who was clearly not with the gang he'd just slaughtered. She was fidgeting uncomfortably, tying something around her arm. The silhouette was clearly feminine- otherwise Frank probably would have lowered his aim and fired.

"Who the hell are you?!" He growled, pulling the hammer back and readying his shot. It was so dark he could make out very little of the woman; but he trusted her even less. These weren't streets for the timid.

He's in Hell's Kitchen rn. You can jump in!