Back to GatefoldIssue #6 by Darryl Philips
|
If I had a mother, she'd call me Wade Wilson. On second thought, she'd probably just call me ugly and run away screaming. But that's my real name, anyway.
I'm also The Molecule Man.
And, most importantly, I'm Deadpool. The very last. The one and only.
(I'm also the best and only symbiote salesman in the galaxy! Known super heroes get a 50% discount!)
Currently, I'm sitting on a very expensive couch, watching a rerun of "Friends." It's the one where Joey sleeps with Phoebe's evil twin, Ursula. But my week was a lot more interesting that this. Honest. I'll start at the beginning so you won't get too bored.
# # # # #
I was only half-listening, but George (cosmic guardian guy, and the only friend I have) was telling me what my role as the final Deadpool was. To sum it up, since so many of us were killed so suddenly, there's an imbalance in the grand scheme of things. Guess who has to fix it?
Now, I have to spend all of my time hopping to different worlds (courtesy of George), doing things the way only yours truly can, until the imbalance is corrected. And by different, I don't just mean more than one type. I mean DIFFERENT. We're talking all-new, weird, strange, what-the-heck-did-I-just-throw-up different. Luckily, the first trip was the easiest one.
The world didn't have an official name, but the locals called it Bliss. I soon found out why. The planet is controlled by this guy who calls himself Shaper of Dreams. As soon as you set foot on it, all your fondest dreams supposedly start to come true. George said that because he was with me, my experience would be ... you guessed it ... different.
He forgot to tell me that meant I was married to an heiress by the name of Theresa Rourke, CEO of the Banshee Butter empire. "Nothing screams, 'Better butter!' like Banshee!" (Just don't ask.)
That I was a megastar in the movies.
That President Peter Parker, on a whim (most likely a drunken one), had made me his Vice President.
And that I was currently being hunted by a group of mutants known as the Thieves Clan.
It's just amazing the things that a cosmic guardian can forget...
# # # # #
According to George, my mission was to become a member of the Thieves Clan. When I pointed out that they wanted me very dead, he simply replied, "Well, that's the hard part."
Like I really needed him to tell me that.
Since I was outnumbered and severely needed help, I used my connections as VP and ultra-famous move star guy to contact a fellow mercenary who was on good terms with the Clan. His name? David North. When on the job? Wildcat. I know, it sounds strange, but the guy LOOKS like a big cat when he dresses up. That, and his house is full of strays.
Wildcat set up a meeting for the next day and told me to take it easy. That was a mistake.
# # # # #
George used his powers to teleport us into the White House. We were instantly rushed into a meeting with the Joint Chiefs and the Prez himself. They all knew me, but I had to introduce George as my Assistant Vice President. It got a few looks, but when I threatened to fire them all on the spot, they let it go.
"The situation is critical, people," Captain Flag (no, really, that's his name) announced. "The Revengers (again, it really is their name) and I have been unable to peacefully settle the hostage crisis in Detroit. The gunmen have demanded $13 million and dates with the cast of 'Baywatch.' I can part with the money, but I'll rot in the underworld before I turn those young women over to these ... these ... DOGS!"
The Prez (who seemed to a bit too happy) burped and asked what we should do.
Some hottie named Val Cooper thought we should try to reason with gunmen. I was too busy staring at her skirt to catch anything else. That woman looked fine in red. I later told her she'd look even better in my bedroom, but she called me a pervert. Not that there's anything wrong with that.
Finally, I got tired of listening to everyone. I cleared the table with one swoop of my mighty hand, stood up, and shouted, "HEY! Why don't we just give them the money, autographed pictures of me, and save all the babes for the VP?"
I was kidding, of course. Mostly. The Prez didn't see it that way. He ordered Captain Flag to bring Pamela Lee to my office at once. I didn't have the heart (or any desire whatsoever) to disagree.
Strangely enough, we were able to buy off the gunmen with the money and the pictures. Since I was in a good mood, I gave them Traci Bingham just for their troubles. I'm sure they thanked her over and over and over again in their own special way.
# # # # #
After a hard day's work, I decided what I needed was a nap. My naps usually come with a major hangover, but to my extreme regret, there didn't seem to be any liquor stores around. George told me that cosmic guardians didn't drink, anyway. I told him that I wasn't a cosmic guardian and that I'd seen him toss back plenty of milkshakes with "just a bit" of alcohol in them. He replied, "I said we didn't drink. I didn't say we didn't sneak them into milkshakes."
After a little more debating, George took me to a large mansion on a hill. When I asked what poor sap we were robbing, he told me we weren't and that I was the poor sap. In other words, it was my house. At least, it was since I was married to the owner.
When I finally woke up a few minutes later, I was lying on a waterbed, and someone had removed my mask. I found it resting comfortably on a bust near the bed. Carved into the base of it was a simple but meaningful message: "Deadpool: Father, Movie Star, and Vice President of the World."
Before I knew it, I had fallen asleep. I'm not sure how long I was out, but I woke up to find a beautiful woman leaning over me. Thinking Pammie was back for Round 2 (really, it was Round 8...if you want to get technical about it), I never gave it a second thought. But when I noticed her figure was a bit different, I took a closer look and almost passed out.
"Terry?" I whispered in disbelief.
"Aye, 'tis me, Wade," she answered, planting a soft kiss on my chin. "I missed ye t'day."
I enjoyed the kissing for a while. But when she started to climb into bed with me, I stopped her. "What if Banshee walks in?!"
She laughed. "Wade, Dad has been dead for ten years now. Ye mean to tell me that yuir still afraid of him?"
"No. Just ... checking. I didn't ... Terry, is that a ring on your finger?!"
"Aye," she said, admiring the diamond. "Ye stole it from the Thieves Clan, remember? Just one of the reasons they want ye dead, man. Now, are ye goin' to talk all night, or are ye goin' to show yuir wife a good time?"
Okay, so Pammie was a pure hottie. Even so, Terry's the girl of my dreams. No contest, really. Of course, if Terry ever wanted to increase the size of her chest, I wouldn't put up much of a fight.
# # # # #
I woke up the next day with morning breath, a sore back, and a beautiful wife in my arms. A good combo, if I do say so myself. And George had to go ruin it by waking me up early. If he wasn't so good at teleporting, I would've killed him right then.
Over a quick breakfast of Irish toast (Terry's version of French toast) and Irish coffee (technically, everything Terry cooked was Irish), George gave me a history lesson on the Thieves Clan. His description actually made me smile, for some reason.
As it turns out, this world's version of the X-Men had eventually broken up after the whole Trial of Gambit thing.* However, there were some members of the team that had remained loyal to the Cajun and joined him to create the Thieves Clan. There was LeBeau himself, of course, The Beast (who was actually Wolvie in a permanent feral state), Tempest (think Storm, but much higher on the hottie scale), Myst (some green chick that could turn into mist, and LeBeau's lover ... sort of), and Firefly (Gambit's adopted daughter, think Jubilee with a huge pair of wings sticking out of her back).
(* Gambit's Trial, which the X-Men didn't break up after, was seen in Marvel's great Uncanny X-Men #350. -Remy LeRy)
George said my best bet at getting in was to make nice with LeBeau's kid, who had a thing for guys in red masks. Joy. I mean, I like some girl ogling me just as much as the next guy, but not an ACTUAL girl. But, I didn't have much choice in the matter. Lucky for me, being a flirt was always one of my strong points.
# # # # #
Wildcat met us at a dirty hole-in-the-wall place called Harry's Hut. He had Tempest with him, but she acted as if the whole meeting was just a plot for me to look at her butt. I guess I didn't help by walking behind her the entire time, but a gentleman always lets the lady go first. At least, that's what they tell me.
Wildcat informed me that I'd have to fight a member of the Thieves Clan to get in. That was expected. George had told me that fighting Tempest or Firefly was a standard procedure for entry. However, fighting The Beast (which is exactly what I had to do) was not. Apparently, I'd pissed LeBeau off so much that he wanted me half-dead before even considering my request to join. So I said yes, partially because I never backed down from anybody, but mainly because I have a very good healing factor.
# # # # #
After a quick trip on the Raven (a really cool jet that I'd like to hot-wire one day), we landed in New Orleans, home of the Thieves Clan. Their base was an old opera house that had closed a while back. It was modified with bits and pieces of Shi'ar technology they'd stolen from the X-Men.
I was taken to see LeBeau at first. I guess he wanted "Before" and "After" pictures or something. He was sitting on a large throne and smoking a cigarette.
"De last time we met, Wilson, you stole a big diamond from Gambit," he said, glaring at me. "Where'd you hide it?"
"On my beautiful wife's finger," I replied.
He smiled. "So it was for love, den? Dat I can let go. But you still gotta tangle with de Beast. You survive, an' maybe we let you in." There was a grim smile on his face as he said that. A smile that said he didn't expect me to survive.
# # # # #
LeBeau gave me an hour to prepare for the battle. Luckily, he allowed me to use their version of the Danger Room. I'd killed nine simulated versions of The Beast when someone entered an override code and ended the program. I didn't mind too much, since the tenth Beast was about to tear out my throat.
I don't know who I was expecting, but it turned out to be LeBeau's kid. She was wearing a yellow raincoat that looked as if it had seen a lot of action and a smile that could light up a room. There was something about Chinese girls that I always liked. Maybe it was the rumors I'd heard about their first-rate massages.
"So, you're gonna challenge Beastie, huh?" she asked.
"Basically, yeah."
She paused for a moment, looking me up and down. I stood silently, waiting for it. She lifted her head, looked me dead in the eyes, and said it. "You're kinda cute. For a soon-to-be-dead guy, anyway."
"Um ... yeah. Aren't you a little young for me?"
"Not by your standards."
She had a point, but still. "Kid, your dad wants me dead. I'm not gonna give him another reason."
"He wouldn't kill you if I said I liked you," she replied, "which I will ... on one condition."
I could feel the sigh building up in my throat, but I swallowed it. "What?"
"I want an autographed photo of you."
There was a moment of silence. "That's IT?!"
She nodded, "Yup. Those puppies are worth millions. In fact, you better make it two. I'll keep one and sell the other."
# # # # #
The Beast was well-named. Ten seconds into the fight, most of my costume was in shreds. He grinned at me, brandishing his claws. "I don't know how you got into this mess, 'Pool, but you're gonna wish you hadn't in a few seconds."
Without warning, he leapt at me, planning to take my head off. I threw up an arm just in time to get three large puncture wounds in it. Chances were, I'd need my head more than an arm, anyway. First priority was now to get this creep away from me.
I decided on a judo kick, which caught him flush on the chin. It forced him to back up a step, but only a step. "Nice moves," he growled, "too bad they ain't enough!" He charged again, taking more of my costume and some of my chest with a huge downward slash.
It was me that backed up this time. Considering he had adamantium claws and I didn't, I decided that I needed an advantage. And when I reached down to finger my bleeding abs, I found it.
The Beast ran at me, aiming his claws directly for my stomach. With a sly grin, I teleported behind him and knocked him to the floor with a sidekick to the jaw. He shook his head, trying to figure out how I'd moved so quickly. Then he got mad. Not a good thing.
This time he moved faster, slashing my handy teleporter into five pieces. "Got anymore bright ideas, bub?" he asked, raising his claws to my neck.
"Yeah, just one," I replied grabbing his hand. He expected me to push it away. He didn't expect me to force his claws straight into my throat. Good thing that's exactly what I did.
"What the?!" The Beast backed away in surprise, startled if nothing else. Exactly what I wanted him to do, really.
Since there were now three large holes in my throat, it was easy to gather the extra blood in my mouth. For what, you might ask? Simply the biggest, wettest, nastiest, bloodiest spit-ball you ever did see! Didn't see that one coming, did you? Heh.
The Beast howled in anger as the mixture hit him square in the eyes. He stumbled away from me, waving his claws as if I would be dumb enough to impale myself on them. Again, anyway. I may be crazy, but I'm not stupid. I carefully grabbed his wrists, snapped them, and forced his claws straight into his heart.
I'm still not sure what was worst: the fact that the big lug sounded like a little girl as he hit the floor, or the sudden realization that, aside from a very stylish pair of Yoda boxer shorts, I was very naked.
The cigarette LeBeau had been puffing fell out of his mouth and hit the floor.
"Amazing," Tempest said softly.
"Sheer luck," Myst protested.
"He might be cuter. Y'know, if it wasn't for all the blood," Firefly added appreciatively.
LeBeau just shook his head, "Call it what you want, petite. It's still damn good."
Now I knew what was scariest: the fact that while I was mostly naked, Remy LeBeau, professional woman charmer, was staring at me, liking what he saw -- and calling it "damn good." It was almost as scary as another Olsen Twins special (uh ... not that I'd ever watch them ... again.) Almost.
# # # # #
Lucky for me, I was impressive enough to become the newest (and deadliest) member of the Thieves Clan. My debts were forgiven, and LeBeau even shook my hand. Although, since I was still very naked at the time, it was very, very scary.
George congratulated me, and took us all out to celebrate. Unfortunately, he took us back to Harry's Hut. Since LeBeau was well-known, he simply told the waitress to put it on his tab. She instantly tore up the ticket. I mean, I was only the VP of the WORLD and a megastar. Why should MY meal be free?
# # # # #
Afterwards, George and I said our good-byes and headed back to my place. By then most of my wounds had healed up. It was still a little hard to speak, chew, or swallow, but I managed.
So that's how I ended up here, on a couch, watching reruns on a huge TV screen. George told me I had other tasks to do in other worlds, but I told him that they could wait. At least, for a little while. I mean, if you were VP of the World, a megastar, a member of the Thieves Clan, and married to beautiful temptress, would you go rushing off to another world where things could be a whole lot worse?
Of course not! Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to show my lovely Terry what Pammie taught me how to do with a tub of whipped cream, a cherry, and half a quart of chocolate sauce.
Did I mention that I LOVE this place?! :)
END
I'm also The Molecule Man.
And, most importantly, I'm Deadpool. The very last. The one and only.
(I'm also the best and only symbiote salesman in the galaxy! Known super heroes get a 50% discount!)
Currently, I'm sitting on a very expensive couch, watching a rerun of "Friends." It's the one where Joey sleeps with Phoebe's evil twin, Ursula. But my week was a lot more interesting that this. Honest. I'll start at the beginning so you won't get too bored.
# # # # #
I was only half-listening, but George (cosmic guardian guy, and the only friend I have) was telling me what my role as the final Deadpool was. To sum it up, since so many of us were killed so suddenly, there's an imbalance in the grand scheme of things. Guess who has to fix it?
Now, I have to spend all of my time hopping to different worlds (courtesy of George), doing things the way only yours truly can, until the imbalance is corrected. And by different, I don't just mean more than one type. I mean DIFFERENT. We're talking all-new, weird, strange, what-the-heck-did-I-just-throw-up different. Luckily, the first trip was the easiest one.
The world didn't have an official name, but the locals called it Bliss. I soon found out why. The planet is controlled by this guy who calls himself Shaper of Dreams. As soon as you set foot on it, all your fondest dreams supposedly start to come true. George said that because he was with me, my experience would be ... you guessed it ... different.
He forgot to tell me that meant I was married to an heiress by the name of Theresa Rourke, CEO of the Banshee Butter empire. "Nothing screams, 'Better butter!' like Banshee!" (Just don't ask.)
That I was a megastar in the movies.
That President Peter Parker, on a whim (most likely a drunken one), had made me his Vice President.
And that I was currently being hunted by a group of mutants known as the Thieves Clan.
It's just amazing the things that a cosmic guardian can forget...
# # # # #
According to George, my mission was to become a member of the Thieves Clan. When I pointed out that they wanted me very dead, he simply replied, "Well, that's the hard part."
Like I really needed him to tell me that.
Since I was outnumbered and severely needed help, I used my connections as VP and ultra-famous move star guy to contact a fellow mercenary who was on good terms with the Clan. His name? David North. When on the job? Wildcat. I know, it sounds strange, but the guy LOOKS like a big cat when he dresses up. That, and his house is full of strays.
Wildcat set up a meeting for the next day and told me to take it easy. That was a mistake.
# # # # #
George used his powers to teleport us into the White House. We were instantly rushed into a meeting with the Joint Chiefs and the Prez himself. They all knew me, but I had to introduce George as my Assistant Vice President. It got a few looks, but when I threatened to fire them all on the spot, they let it go.
"The situation is critical, people," Captain Flag (no, really, that's his name) announced. "The Revengers (again, it really is their name) and I have been unable to peacefully settle the hostage crisis in Detroit. The gunmen have demanded $13 million and dates with the cast of 'Baywatch.' I can part with the money, but I'll rot in the underworld before I turn those young women over to these ... these ... DOGS!"
The Prez (who seemed to a bit too happy) burped and asked what we should do.
Some hottie named Val Cooper thought we should try to reason with gunmen. I was too busy staring at her skirt to catch anything else. That woman looked fine in red. I later told her she'd look even better in my bedroom, but she called me a pervert. Not that there's anything wrong with that.
Finally, I got tired of listening to everyone. I cleared the table with one swoop of my mighty hand, stood up, and shouted, "HEY! Why don't we just give them the money, autographed pictures of me, and save all the babes for the VP?"
I was kidding, of course. Mostly. The Prez didn't see it that way. He ordered Captain Flag to bring Pamela Lee to my office at once. I didn't have the heart (or any desire whatsoever) to disagree.
Strangely enough, we were able to buy off the gunmen with the money and the pictures. Since I was in a good mood, I gave them Traci Bingham just for their troubles. I'm sure they thanked her over and over and over again in their own special way.
# # # # #
After a hard day's work, I decided what I needed was a nap. My naps usually come with a major hangover, but to my extreme regret, there didn't seem to be any liquor stores around. George told me that cosmic guardians didn't drink, anyway. I told him that I wasn't a cosmic guardian and that I'd seen him toss back plenty of milkshakes with "just a bit" of alcohol in them. He replied, "I said we didn't drink. I didn't say we didn't sneak them into milkshakes."
After a little more debating, George took me to a large mansion on a hill. When I asked what poor sap we were robbing, he told me we weren't and that I was the poor sap. In other words, it was my house. At least, it was since I was married to the owner.
When I finally woke up a few minutes later, I was lying on a waterbed, and someone had removed my mask. I found it resting comfortably on a bust near the bed. Carved into the base of it was a simple but meaningful message: "Deadpool: Father, Movie Star, and Vice President of the World."
Before I knew it, I had fallen asleep. I'm not sure how long I was out, but I woke up to find a beautiful woman leaning over me. Thinking Pammie was back for Round 2 (really, it was Round 8...if you want to get technical about it), I never gave it a second thought. But when I noticed her figure was a bit different, I took a closer look and almost passed out.
"Terry?" I whispered in disbelief.
"Aye, 'tis me, Wade," she answered, planting a soft kiss on my chin. "I missed ye t'day."
I enjoyed the kissing for a while. But when she started to climb into bed with me, I stopped her. "What if Banshee walks in?!"
She laughed. "Wade, Dad has been dead for ten years now. Ye mean to tell me that yuir still afraid of him?"
"No. Just ... checking. I didn't ... Terry, is that a ring on your finger?!"
"Aye," she said, admiring the diamond. "Ye stole it from the Thieves Clan, remember? Just one of the reasons they want ye dead, man. Now, are ye goin' to talk all night, or are ye goin' to show yuir wife a good time?"
Okay, so Pammie was a pure hottie. Even so, Terry's the girl of my dreams. No contest, really. Of course, if Terry ever wanted to increase the size of her chest, I wouldn't put up much of a fight.
# # # # #
I woke up the next day with morning breath, a sore back, and a beautiful wife in my arms. A good combo, if I do say so myself. And George had to go ruin it by waking me up early. If he wasn't so good at teleporting, I would've killed him right then.
Over a quick breakfast of Irish toast (Terry's version of French toast) and Irish coffee (technically, everything Terry cooked was Irish), George gave me a history lesson on the Thieves Clan. His description actually made me smile, for some reason.
As it turns out, this world's version of the X-Men had eventually broken up after the whole Trial of Gambit thing.* However, there were some members of the team that had remained loyal to the Cajun and joined him to create the Thieves Clan. There was LeBeau himself, of course, The Beast (who was actually Wolvie in a permanent feral state), Tempest (think Storm, but much higher on the hottie scale), Myst (some green chick that could turn into mist, and LeBeau's lover ... sort of), and Firefly (Gambit's adopted daughter, think Jubilee with a huge pair of wings sticking out of her back).
(* Gambit's Trial, which the X-Men didn't break up after, was seen in Marvel's great Uncanny X-Men #350. -Remy LeRy)
George said my best bet at getting in was to make nice with LeBeau's kid, who had a thing for guys in red masks. Joy. I mean, I like some girl ogling me just as much as the next guy, but not an ACTUAL girl. But, I didn't have much choice in the matter. Lucky for me, being a flirt was always one of my strong points.
# # # # #
Wildcat met us at a dirty hole-in-the-wall place called Harry's Hut. He had Tempest with him, but she acted as if the whole meeting was just a plot for me to look at her butt. I guess I didn't help by walking behind her the entire time, but a gentleman always lets the lady go first. At least, that's what they tell me.
Wildcat informed me that I'd have to fight a member of the Thieves Clan to get in. That was expected. George had told me that fighting Tempest or Firefly was a standard procedure for entry. However, fighting The Beast (which is exactly what I had to do) was not. Apparently, I'd pissed LeBeau off so much that he wanted me half-dead before even considering my request to join. So I said yes, partially because I never backed down from anybody, but mainly because I have a very good healing factor.
# # # # #
After a quick trip on the Raven (a really cool jet that I'd like to hot-wire one day), we landed in New Orleans, home of the Thieves Clan. Their base was an old opera house that had closed a while back. It was modified with bits and pieces of Shi'ar technology they'd stolen from the X-Men.
I was taken to see LeBeau at first. I guess he wanted "Before" and "After" pictures or something. He was sitting on a large throne and smoking a cigarette.
"De last time we met, Wilson, you stole a big diamond from Gambit," he said, glaring at me. "Where'd you hide it?"
"On my beautiful wife's finger," I replied.
He smiled. "So it was for love, den? Dat I can let go. But you still gotta tangle with de Beast. You survive, an' maybe we let you in." There was a grim smile on his face as he said that. A smile that said he didn't expect me to survive.
# # # # #
LeBeau gave me an hour to prepare for the battle. Luckily, he allowed me to use their version of the Danger Room. I'd killed nine simulated versions of The Beast when someone entered an override code and ended the program. I didn't mind too much, since the tenth Beast was about to tear out my throat.
I don't know who I was expecting, but it turned out to be LeBeau's kid. She was wearing a yellow raincoat that looked as if it had seen a lot of action and a smile that could light up a room. There was something about Chinese girls that I always liked. Maybe it was the rumors I'd heard about their first-rate massages.
"So, you're gonna challenge Beastie, huh?" she asked.
"Basically, yeah."
She paused for a moment, looking me up and down. I stood silently, waiting for it. She lifted her head, looked me dead in the eyes, and said it. "You're kinda cute. For a soon-to-be-dead guy, anyway."
"Um ... yeah. Aren't you a little young for me?"
"Not by your standards."
She had a point, but still. "Kid, your dad wants me dead. I'm not gonna give him another reason."
"He wouldn't kill you if I said I liked you," she replied, "which I will ... on one condition."
I could feel the sigh building up in my throat, but I swallowed it. "What?"
"I want an autographed photo of you."
There was a moment of silence. "That's IT?!"
She nodded, "Yup. Those puppies are worth millions. In fact, you better make it two. I'll keep one and sell the other."
# # # # #
The Beast was well-named. Ten seconds into the fight, most of my costume was in shreds. He grinned at me, brandishing his claws. "I don't know how you got into this mess, 'Pool, but you're gonna wish you hadn't in a few seconds."
Without warning, he leapt at me, planning to take my head off. I threw up an arm just in time to get three large puncture wounds in it. Chances were, I'd need my head more than an arm, anyway. First priority was now to get this creep away from me.
I decided on a judo kick, which caught him flush on the chin. It forced him to back up a step, but only a step. "Nice moves," he growled, "too bad they ain't enough!" He charged again, taking more of my costume and some of my chest with a huge downward slash.
It was me that backed up this time. Considering he had adamantium claws and I didn't, I decided that I needed an advantage. And when I reached down to finger my bleeding abs, I found it.
The Beast ran at me, aiming his claws directly for my stomach. With a sly grin, I teleported behind him and knocked him to the floor with a sidekick to the jaw. He shook his head, trying to figure out how I'd moved so quickly. Then he got mad. Not a good thing.
This time he moved faster, slashing my handy teleporter into five pieces. "Got anymore bright ideas, bub?" he asked, raising his claws to my neck.
"Yeah, just one," I replied grabbing his hand. He expected me to push it away. He didn't expect me to force his claws straight into my throat. Good thing that's exactly what I did.
"What the?!" The Beast backed away in surprise, startled if nothing else. Exactly what I wanted him to do, really.
Since there were now three large holes in my throat, it was easy to gather the extra blood in my mouth. For what, you might ask? Simply the biggest, wettest, nastiest, bloodiest spit-ball you ever did see! Didn't see that one coming, did you? Heh.
The Beast howled in anger as the mixture hit him square in the eyes. He stumbled away from me, waving his claws as if I would be dumb enough to impale myself on them. Again, anyway. I may be crazy, but I'm not stupid. I carefully grabbed his wrists, snapped them, and forced his claws straight into his heart.
I'm still not sure what was worst: the fact that the big lug sounded like a little girl as he hit the floor, or the sudden realization that, aside from a very stylish pair of Yoda boxer shorts, I was very naked.
The cigarette LeBeau had been puffing fell out of his mouth and hit the floor.
"Amazing," Tempest said softly.
"Sheer luck," Myst protested.
"He might be cuter. Y'know, if it wasn't for all the blood," Firefly added appreciatively.
LeBeau just shook his head, "Call it what you want, petite. It's still damn good."
Now I knew what was scariest: the fact that while I was mostly naked, Remy LeBeau, professional woman charmer, was staring at me, liking what he saw -- and calling it "damn good." It was almost as scary as another Olsen Twins special (uh ... not that I'd ever watch them ... again.) Almost.
# # # # #
Lucky for me, I was impressive enough to become the newest (and deadliest) member of the Thieves Clan. My debts were forgiven, and LeBeau even shook my hand. Although, since I was still very naked at the time, it was very, very scary.
George congratulated me, and took us all out to celebrate. Unfortunately, he took us back to Harry's Hut. Since LeBeau was well-known, he simply told the waitress to put it on his tab. She instantly tore up the ticket. I mean, I was only the VP of the WORLD and a megastar. Why should MY meal be free?
# # # # #
Afterwards, George and I said our good-byes and headed back to my place. By then most of my wounds had healed up. It was still a little hard to speak, chew, or swallow, but I managed.
So that's how I ended up here, on a couch, watching reruns on a huge TV screen. George told me I had other tasks to do in other worlds, but I told him that they could wait. At least, for a little while. I mean, if you were VP of the World, a megastar, a member of the Thieves Clan, and married to beautiful temptress, would you go rushing off to another world where things could be a whole lot worse?
Of course not! Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to show my lovely Terry what Pammie taught me how to do with a tub of whipped cream, a cherry, and half a quart of chocolate sauce.
Did I mention that I LOVE this place?! :)
END