Hey there, true believers! It’s Deadpool here, and I am here to tell you what happened to me after the credits rolled on that piece of crap you call X-Men Origins: Wolverine!
You may be wondering how I can be writing this, since the user who published this article is called BobbyDrakeApproaches. Well, it’s simple, he is my ghost writer. And by that I mean he is now a ghost because I killed him.
The official explanation is that we parted ways over creative differences. He said something about not liking chimichangas, I said something about his girlfriend, harsh words were exchanged, I shot him in the head, etc.
Where was I going with this? Oh yes. I had just been decapitated, but I reached out and grabbed my head, and then I whispered “Shh” at the camera. The reason I whispered this was because I did not want the audience to tell William Stryker that I was alive, as I was planning on putting my head back on, and then blowing his brains out.
In case you missed out on that horrible piece of crap, you should know that William Stryker kidnapped me, performed surgery on me without my permission, and tried to use mind control to force me to slaughter every mutant on the planet.
All that I was fine with. What really made me angry was when he sealed up my mouth so I couldn’t say anything!
I mean, what was he thinking? My constant wisecracking is part of what makes me an iconic character! What’s next, are they going to cut off Wolverine’s claws? Make Superman stop being an American? Turn Thor into a woman? Have the guy who ruined Daredevil play Batman?
However, after I put my head back on, I had a better idea. So I teleported around Three Mile Island, and started killing Stryker’s soldiers. I had no real reason for doing this, it’s just fun!
Anywho, I eventually caught up with Stryker, after I had already put a mask on my face. I did this because I am fairly disgusted with my appearance. I mean, I used to look like Ryan Reynolds, and now I make Quentin Tarantino look sexy.
I pressed a gun to the back of Stryker’s head, and told him, “Put your hands in the air!” Stryker obeyed.
That pitiful idiot tried to reason with me. He soon learned that was impossible. “Wade, if that’s you, I just want you to know that-”
“I SAID PUT YOUR HANDS IN THE AIR!!!”
“They- they are in the air.”
“Like you just don’t care?”
“Um, I guess.”
“Good,” I said, “I want to make a deal with you. I know you killed General Munson.”
“How do you know that?”
“That’s what the word on the street is among your men. Everyone knows that’s why you are being held custody, and your soldiers keep talking about before I kill them. But I am not here to belittle you, even though you are an ugly little monkey. I am here to make a deal. I’ll take the rap for murdering the general, if you have your surgeons remove all of the Adamantium from my skeleton, and the laser eyes.”
“But why?” Stryker asked. “You are basically invincible, why would you want to go back to the way you were before?”
“Because it slows me down!” I exclaimed. “I mean, I was decapitated by Wolverine! Wolverine! I am much faster than he is, that should never have happened. I’m better than Wolverine! Also, with swords in my arms, I can’t move my elbows. How am I supposed to fight like that?” I paused for a moment to let my words of wisdom sink in. “Now do we have a deal?”
Stryker nodded. I removed the gun from his skull, and walked around him to shake his hand. “One more thing,” I said, “leave the healing factor, and the ability to teleport. Those could be useful, especially if I feel like blowing my own head off. Or putting a power drill to my head, like your wife.” I had to giggle after I said that. It was just too dang funny.
Stryker did not look amused, but he ignored my comment, and said, “I hope you realize that you will go to prison for this.”
I waved it off. “I’m a pretty clever guy, what’s the worst that could happen?”
Six months later, I was still in prison. The surgery was successful, I know longer had a skeleton like that annoying douchebag with the claws, or eyes like that whiny jerk with the lasers.
Unfortunately, I was chained up in a prison in one of Stryker’s bases, with a neural inhibitor around my neck, preventing me from teleporting anywhere.
I had gone six months without killing anyone. To put it simply, I was miserable. Fortunately, I had ways of making the people around me miserable as well.
“Five thousand nine hundred and eighty-three bottles of beer on the wall, five thousand nine hundred and eighty-three bottles of beer!” I belted out at the top of my lungs, the sound echoing through the corridors of the containment center. “You take one down, you pass it around, five thousand nine hundred and eighty-four bottles of beer!”
I had been singing this song for several days, and I knew that one of my guards was at his wit's end. He approached me, grabbed my face, and yelled in my ear, “SHUT UP!!!”
“No thank you,” I calmly replied.
“What do you mean no thanks? Just shut your stupid mouth!”
“No, they tried that before, it didn’t work. Ruined one of the most iconic aspects of my character, actually.”
“You’re not even doing it right! After the bottle is taken down, you are supposed to subtract one, not add one!”
“Where did you learn to count?”
I could tell that he was really angry, and I could see that he was reaching for his pistol. I knew I had to act quickly. “Ha! Do you really think you can kill me with a gun?”
The man paused for a moment, obviously confused. I continued, “The rumors are all true. As long as you don’t cut my head off, I am completely invincible.” I gasped, and then said, “Oh no, I have now given away my secret to my enemy. I hope and pray he does not use this information against me.”
The man grinned. It was lucky for me that this guy was stupid. It was also lucky for me that he was carrying a sword with him. I don’t know why Stryker has some of his soldiers carry swords, but the guy isn’t completely right in the head, if you know what I mean.
The other guards noticed what he was about to do, and started running forward to stop him. They were too late, and the man who had no taste in music was able to cut off my head.
As my head hit the ground, my body went limp, but was still held up, due to the restraints on my arms and legs. Of course, I teleported out of them immediately, picked up my head, and reattached it to to my body.
Of course, the soldiers immediately opened fire on me, but since I no longer had the neural inhibitor on me, I healed almost immediately after being shot.
“You guys are so cute,” I said, right before I teleported to the guy who had tried to kill me, yanked his sword out of his hands, and decapitated him.
“Fair’s fair,” I said to his head as it rolled on the ground, but he didn’t respond. The other soldiers continued to shoot at me, so I teleported around the room and stabbed, hacked and slashed at the bad guys. I even took two of their pistols, and started shooting them. I was having a ball.
I soon came to the realization that all of the guys in the room were dead. So I teleported to another room, and started shooting and stabbing the guys who were there. I sighed as I slaughtered them, and said, “I’ve missed this. Could you hold still a second there, buddy? Oh good, stand together, it makes you an easier target. I’m the best at what I do! Better than Wolverine!”
Eventually, I realized that I no longer had to fight these guys, no matter how much fun it was, and I teleported out of the prison.
I decided to forgive and forget, to put the past behind me. I decided to forget about William Stryker. Sure, maybe I’ll put a bullet in his skull when I’m in a bad mood, but for now, I didn’t want to think about him. I wanted to put my days with him behind me.
To join me in this quest, I thought I would team up with some of the other people who also worked for him in the past! But as I went through the list, I realized that most of them were not an option. Bradley, Zero, and Wraith were all dead, Wolverine had his memory wiped, Fred is a fatty, and Victor is a douchebag.
Then I remembered my old friend Bob! Bob and I used to be a great mercenary team. He was an agent of an organization I can’t mention without being sued, and he was great at doing something. I can’t remember, but it was probably good if I kept him around. Maybe he knew how to make good chimichangas.
I know we parted ways before I went to work for Stryker, but I’m not quite sure why. It might have something to do with my threatening to kill his mother with a chainsaw, and then laughing about it. The details on these things can be so fuzzy.
Anywho, before I went to visit Bob, I bought a sexy new outfit. It was similar to the one I wore in the olden days, but this outfit covered me head to toe, kind of like a onesie. The most important aspect was the mask, because my face looks like Slenderman’s armpit on crack.
“It’s me, Bob! I’m back!” I said as I walked into his living room.
I hate to say it, but Bob was a sight that made your eyes sore. He was fat, balding, sitting on an armchair watching Full House, eating Twinkies. Seriously, Bob? Full House?
“Who are you?” Bob asked.
“It’s me, Wade! Remember, we used to shoot people, and get paid for it? But mostly we just shot people?”
“Oh,” Bob said, as his memory appeared to slowly return to him. He paused for a moment, then asked, “How did you get in here?”
“Oh, I broke your window,” I replied, “but I was too big for me to fit, so I broke another one. That one was also too small, so I broke every window in the house. They were all too small, so I cut myself into pieces, and threw myself through the window.”
Bob just shook his head. “So, you can heal yourself now?”
“Yeah. By the way, you may want to clean up the mess in your daughter’s room. You may also want to get counseling for your daughter, she seemed pretty freaked out.”
Bob sighed. “Why are you here, Wade?”
“I already told you! I want to go back to the mercenary business! And I want you to be my lackey- I mean, sidekick!”
“Look, Wade, I would, we did have some good times back in the day. But I have a life now, I have a family, and frankly, I’m too old to fight any more.”
I saw red. And not just because my mask was poorly designed, and everything had a reddish tint. I was absolutely furious, and I screamed, “HOW COULD YOU DO THIS TO ME, BOB?!?!”
I was so angry, I shot him in the head.
With my camera! HA HA HA HA HA HA!!!
Oh, and then I blew his brains out with my pistol.
I stood there laughing for several minutes, then I said, “Boy, I really got you there, didn’t I, Bob? That sure smarts, doesn’t it, Bob? Bob?”
Then it dawned on me. Bob did not have a healing factor. “NOOOOO!!!!!” I screamed, as I realized my beloved pet- I mean, friend- was now dead. “CURSE YOU, CRUEL WORLD!” I exclaimed, “CURSE YOU, BAD MEMORY! AND CURSE YOU, EMMA FROST! NO REALLY REASON, IT’S JUST THAT IN THESE MOVIES, SHE SUCKS!”
I was devastated. Who knew that callously taking a life could have negative consequences? I suppose that’s the lesson of this story, true believers. Don’t shoot your friends, as they might not have a healing factor like you do.
I picked up Bob’s limp body, and ran back toward the window I came in. I tried to stuff Bob out the window, but he was too fat. I kept pushing and pushing, but to no avail. I was about to cut him into pieces, until I remembered the mistake I made 30 seconds ago, and decided not to make it again.
Unfortunately, Bob’s daughter walked back into the room at that moment. “Daddy…?”
“Don’t worry, Bob’s little brat. Daddy is dead now, but I am going to make him better. Okay?”
This didn’t seem to comfort her, but I was busy, so I teleported Bob and myself away.
As I walked down the street, carrying my only friend’s corpse, I thought about ways I could possibly revive him. Suddenly, I remembered that I knew a man who could heal from any injury. One time, I saw this guy get ripped in half, and you know what he did?
He died. But anyway, back to the guy who could heal from any injury, I’ve seen him get stabbed, shot, burned, star in one of the crappiest movies of all time, and heal from all of that.
“I must find Wolverine!” I declared. I knew it would be searching for a long time, as he had just had his memory wiped a few months ago, and he could be anywhere.
Okay, I actually found him within a few hours, as I simply teleported to every bar I knew in Canada.
I found him sitting on a bar stool, drinking beer and smoking a cigar. I was so disgusted with him for being such a horrible role model, I wanted to shoot his face off. However, I controlled myself, and I said, “Hey, Logan! It’s me, Wade! How you doin’?”
Wolverine took the cigar out of his mouth, and asked me, “Who are you?”
“It’s me, your old buddy! We worked for Stryker together!”
He still looked confused, so I said, “Here, maybe this will jog your memory.”
Then I shot him in his face.
That made him angry, though I am not sure why. He has a healing factor, doesn’t he? I was about to be all like, “Hey, what gives, man?” when suddenly, he leaped toward me, his claws out, screaming like a madman.
Of course, I wasn’t going to have any of his attitude. I teleported out of the way, leaving him slashing the air.
“Sheesh, I was hoping we could talk about this like rational human beings, you didn’t have to be jerk about it.” He lunged at me once more, so I teleported around him, shooting as I went.
Wolverine wasn’t saying anything, he was just snarling, and that was really ticking me off, because I came there to talk to him, not fight him. “You know, you could work on your personal skills. I mean, how old are you? You should have learned to be nice in one of the wars that you fought. Didn’t they call World War II the polite war?”
Finally, I was tired of teleporting around him, so I teleported near him, and stabbed him a few times with my swords. They did not seem to have much effect, which might be because I ditched my Adamantium blades after my surgery.
Wolverine did not appreciate my attempts to keep the fight interesting, and he stabbed me in the chest.
“Oh no… you have stabbed me… I am going to die now…”
Wolverine did not respond, but he seemed to have grim look of satisfaction upon hearing these words. “Nah, I’m just kidding,” I said as I shot him in the head, and he instinctively removed his claws, and stumbled backwards. I decided to press my advantage, and I leapt after him, stabbing him repeatedly.
He stabbed me as well, and we continued stabbing each other, and making jokes for several minutes. Most of the jokes were from me.
When I got tired of that, I teleported a safe distance away from him, and said, “Don’t get me wrong, that was fun, but we both know who will win this fight, since I’m better than you are.”
“You wanna find out?” Wolverine said, and I could tell he about to lunge at me once more.
“No, no, I don’t,” I said as I held up my hands, “I’m not actually here to pick a fight. I’m here to get your blood, as I just murdered my best friend, and I want to bring him back to life. I was hoping your magic healing blood would help.”
Wolverine looked puzzled for a moment. “Why don’t you just use your own blood? Can’t you heal yourself?”
“Oh…” I said, as the thought had not occurred to me before. “Yeah, I guess so.” I turned to the bartender. “Sorry about the mess,” I said, and I would have tossed a coin in his direction, but I didn’t have one. Instead, I fired a bullet at him. He caught it with his chest!
I teleported back to Bob, and told him not to worry, as I was going to use my own blood to heal him. He didn’t respond.
So I grabbed Bob, and teleported to where William Stryker was. He was surrounded by several guards, and after I finished killing them, I said to Stryker, “I need you to do another surgery, but this time I want you to take my blood, and use it to save my friend Bob.”
Stryker looked irritated. “You just killed my chief surgeon.”
“Really? I guess all bad guys look alike when you are blowing their brains out. Anywho, can you save Bob?”
Stryker looked at Bob, who I had gently placed (okay, I dumped him) on the ground. “How bad is his injury?”
“Oh, he’s dead. I was hoping you could use my blood to bring him back to life.”
“Wade, I hope you realize that a healing factor can only heal living people, it can’t raise people from the dead.”
“Really? So you are saying he is really, truly dead? Completely, totally, definitely dead? Like your wife?”
Again, Stryker looked upset for some reason. Man, I just can’t figure that guy out!
“Yes, Wade, he is dead.”
“Well, you’re no help!” I exclaimed as I picked up Bob, and teleported away.
A few hours later, I was trying to think of other ways to save Bob, as the two of us sat in the middle of the freeway. The sound of cars swerving to avoid us was certainly comforting, but it didn’t help me think.
At least, that’s what I thought until inspiration struck me. “I’ve got it!” I exclaimed, as I remembered I had the power to teleport. Since I had the power to teleport around the world, why not use that power to teleport to other worlds? Why not teleport to other galaxies, to other universes, even? Surely another universe would have something that could save Bob!
I had already made up my mind on how I was going to save Bob, now I just needed a safe place to keep him while I was gone. I decided to take him back to his house, and I left him in his daughter’s room, because I’m sure she’ll take great care of him.
With that settled, I teleported away, and arrived at a place I had never seen before. It was a big room, with shiny metal surfaces everywhere. Unfortunately, I was not alone, as the room was filled with people with guns. They started shooting at me, which was rather irritating.
So I teleported around the room, and alternated between using my guns and my swords to kill them all. It was kind of fun, but it wasn’t getting me anywhere. When I had finished off everyone, I noticed a blue man lying on a table. There did not seem to be any need to kill him, since he was already dead, he was cut in half. What made him interesting was the fact that there was a tube of liquid next to him that appeared to be made of his blood.
I picked it up, and put it in my pocket. It looked like resurrection juice to me, and it was worth a try.
I was ready to teleport back to my universe, when I heard a voice from somewhere in the room. “Director Fury, we’ve had a security breach. An unknown assailant infiltrated this facility, and killed everyone. I’m the only one who survived.”
I heard another voice reply, “I should have known it was too dangerous to have this project located in such a public place. We’ll relocate project T.A.H.I.T.I. to a remote, underground location, with minimal security necessary.”
I turned the corner, and my suspicions were confirmed. “Agent Coulson! I knew that was you! Want me to help you get revenge on Loki?”
Coulson turned to the screen, and said, “I’ll have to call you back, sir,” then he turned towards me, and started shooting at me. When he noticed that I was healing from his bullets just as fast as he was firing them, he stopped.
“Hey, would you mind signing my Agent Coulson trading cards?” I said as I showed them to him. Coulson didn’t say anything, instead he began shooting at me once more.
“You know, that kind of hurts. Wait a minute, don’t sign them! I’ve got a better idea!” Then I rubbed them against my chest, getting blood on them. Sometimes I am so meta, I scare myself.
“I know your type,” Coulson told me, “you’re a mercenary, and you only care about one thing- money. I don’t know what the people who hired you are paying you, but SHIELD will double it.”
“I’m sorry, but you’re wrong. I don’t just care about money. I care about honor, and glory, and chimichangas, and chasing hot babes. To tell you the truth, I have no idea why I haven’t been chasing any chicks throughout this entire fan fiction. And there is one thing I care about more than any of them, and that’s the power of friendship. I am taking this serum to save my best friend’s life, because I already murdered him.”
I turned to go, but before I did, I said, “By the way, if you are ever pointing a giant gun at a god, just shoot him immediately. Don’t give him a monologue, just shoot him and leave.” Feeling that I had done my good deed for the day, I teleported away, back to my universe.
The rest of this story has a happy ending. I gave Bob the serum, and he’s just fine now! Sure, he no longer speaks in complete sentences, and he keeps talking about wanting brains, but I think it will pass. He has tried to bite me a couple of times, but I just whack him with a newspaper and tell him, “That is very bad, Bob. VERY BAD.”
And so I finish my story having saved my best friend, with all of my memories intact. I’m better than Wolverine!