Small Disclaimer for Raging Deadpool Fans: From one huge Deadpool fan to another, I know (some of you) will be angry when you realize that Deadpool's origin story here in my story does not follow EXACTLY as the comics portrayed it. I love Deadpool's origin story (the original one), but I just wanted to try something different. I'm sorry if you don't like it...? There's going to be just a few minor changes that WILL be explained. And you'll understand why I changed it. (It's just for the story's sake.)
ALSO:...Those of you not familiar with Deadpool, you can still read! Just realize the background/origin story I give deadpool here is not the original (or canon) story. You can follow along just as easily as avid Deadpool readers/fans can, I promise.
His fingernails studiously picked at the cloth on the chair as if maybe there'd be a key beneath the fabric that would aid him in some kind of escape. His foot was shaking on his opposite knee, staring at the door to the left down the hall. At any given moment, he was going to be the escort to the single man Fury had been trying to capture for upwards of fifteen months, possibly longer.
He'd only heard pieces of conversation in passing, but the first time he'd heard his name was about fifteen months ago. If the search had gone on before then, he was't sure but it was certainly a possibility he'd toyed with in the forty-five minutes he'd been sitting in the overstuffed black chair.
He brushed his hands against his stubble: he didn't have time to shave that morning when he got the message to meet Fury down at some small office building downtown. It's sign said "Eco-Tech" but he was beginning to be under the impression that it was a front. He wouldn't ask, that would be both undeniably stupid ( he'd never get a straight answer anyway) and it would just make his newness all that more obvious.
This was another question he had, though he didn't keep it to himself. He'd asked Fury why, with his little experience, did he want him? If they'd been trying to just pinpoint this guy's location alone for upwards of fifteen months, why wouldn't he have every senior agent he could get to escort this maniac?
His alone response was: don't ever question my judgment again Agent Gale.
So here he was now, picking pieces of cloth away from this office chair, looking down the hall at the door where this infamous Wilson would be and he'd need to escort him to Avengers Tower. Fury said he'd be tagging along for the ride, but it did little to subside his anxiety.
He knew that this was the kind of work his job would entail, but he thought they'd gradually sink him into the job, like a new fish into a big cold bowl of water. Start off with something a little easier, like paper work. Or surveillance.
The door opened and the light burst into the room in blinding rays. His body was sent into immediate high alert.
He blinked away the sun and as the door closed behind the black silhouettes, he could finally make out the two men standing before the door. There was fury, one hand on his hip, fingers brushing his gun, the other pointing towards Agent Gale.
"Let's keep moving along, Wilson. If we're even a minute late, you better bet your ass Stark'll use it as his ticket out of the meeting."
"Sorry. I was just appreciating the architecture."
"It's called cheap and fast."
"Sounds like my entertainment last night."
Agent Gale stood from his seat quickly, his mouth open, about to ask why in the world 'Wilson' wasn't in some hand cuffs? Or, at the very fucking least, why weren't his weapons confiscated? But then he thought better of it when he watched, with shock, as the man who Fury had been trying to catch for fifteen months walked along on his command right behind. Dawdling behind Fury, without a care in the world. The door he'd just walked through was easy enough to bolt through. He could've just turned around, flew through the door, and in a streak, been long long gone. But he didn't even hesitate. He just kept walking, examining photos as he went.
"Agent Gale: car. Now."
He rushed forward, going out the backdoor of the office and into the small garage in the back which held a black SHIELD standard Escalade. He jumped into the drivers seat and started up the car, waiting patiently as Wilson got into the back.
"Hey, Mr. Driver: what's your name again?"
Gale was beginning to wonder why Fury ever needed him in the first place? This appeared to be a piece of cake, but then he remembered his training, recalling his mentor's warnings about 'this kind'. The king that pretended to be so easy going, laid back, ready to do as you command, then BAM, they were slicing you open like Thanksgiving's turkey.
He felt a nervous sweat break out across his forehead as he pushed the garage opener.
"Your first name's Agent?"
Gale gave a smile as he backed out of the garage and into the busy streets of New York City.
"Oh, well...No. No, my first name's Adam."
"Now we're off to a start. Adam? Can I call you Adam? Adam, ...I go by many things. But on very specific occasions. See, I go by Wade when it's a friend: which is you, Adam. You're a friend. And I go by Wilson when it's a drill sergeant. Which is you, Director Fury, sir. And I go by Pussycat when Leah is over, or Enrique when Maria's over. But sometimes I go by Deadpool...when I wanna scare people." His voice got deep, "Like you Addy, I wanna scare you."
It went silent for only a half second, but Gale went cold, his entire body beginning to shiver as he clutched the steering wheel as hard as he could. He went over emergency situations in his head again and again, thinking through all the simulations he'd done in the Academy. He was just about to say something to establish his authority (as per page 544, section 3, paragraph 7) when Wade finally gave a chuckle.
"I'm just fucking with you, Adam. First day on the job?"
"Wilson, it'd do you some good to shut up for a little while." Fury said, looking dangerously over his shoulder.
"Sir, yes, sir!" With a salute, Wade sat back a little further in his seat and watched out the window intently.
Agent Gale looked into the rear view mirror, watching him quietly for a second. He decided fairly quickly that he looked like the star of some kind of horror war movie, fresh from the trenches of combat. He was dressed in a combat ensemble consisting of black combat boots with clanking buckles, straight charcoal cargo pants tucked loosely into his boots and a white t-shirt, only half tucked into his waist-band. Additionally, he had enough little compartments in the utility belt belted around his waist to carry at least three hundred dollars in change. What added the element of true fear though, was not the mystery of what might could be in those tiny compartments, but it was the weapons lined up on his legs, each being held in their individual holsters which in turn were bound tightly around his right leg. And the two gigantic swords on his back? Those did even less to assuage the new agent's building dread.
By appearance, Wilson was ready for anything, all while maintaining this movie-star quality smile that made you suspicious of his every move. He was good looking in a rugged sort of way. His short, dirty blonde hair had probably been cut no more than ten days ago, but it appeared that this was also the last day he'd shaved. So naturally, Gale's profiling skills led him to conclude he'd recently been on some sort of mission or hunt or...whatever it was this kind of person embarked on.
And naturally after some thought, he found his deduction was little...off. It seemed this mission had been long. Ten days at least. But then, why didn't he have a single scratch on him? His clothes were clean albeit wrinkled, but his hair, boots, and utility belt showed through the rough days he'd had. But not a scratch? Really?
In conclusion, all he got was that Wade Wilson, Deadpool, whatever his name was, was naturally a handsome sort of guy with to much mystery and too many quirks to be natural...way too many quirks.
They were pushing through traffic at a speed he didn't normally achieve in these crowded streets, but his fingers were twitchy and his nerves were on edge, so he dodged and weaved like an experienced boxer in the ring with an amateur. Ping ponged from lane to lane.
The Avengers Tower was within his sights and so long as he could survive until then, he'd deem himself the luckiest man alive.
"Haven't been to New York in a while. That all yours, Sarge?" Wade asked from the back seat, pointing upwards towards the tower in the sky.
"It's the Avengers Tower. It's Stark's"
"But you own Stark."
"I'm not in the slave owning business, Wilson." Gale thought he must've forgotten to clean his ear this week: was that a chuckle in Fury's voice? It was a noise all too human to come from him.
"Well you gotta whip him, don't you? If not for Stark's sake, then for a little 'pless-your' outside of work."
"If you wanna keep that sharp tongue of your's, I'd stop there."
"Well, actually, if you cut my tongue out-..."
Fury whipped around to face him and Wade stopped there. He cleared his throat and nodded agreeably, "Ok, ok. How about some tunes?"
He leaned forward, turning on the radio, every moment his arm was close enough to touch, Gale felt electricity pumping through his skin. Ready to grab it should he try to pull a fast one on him. Choke him? Pull a gun out?
The radio turned onto a seventies station and this seemed to satisfy Wade just fine as he quickly retracted his arm and begun thudding his hand against his thigh to the beat of the music.
"Classic. This is a classic. Hell with it, baby, 'cause you're fine and you're mine and you look so divine."
As Agent Gale pulled into the garage of Avenger's tower, the car was suddenly taken over by darkness, the only light coming from the dim lights from above and the blue glow from the car's radio. The screen lit up, casting a glow onto the passengers. Gale looking into the rear view. More suspicious and mysterious than ever, there sat the man he now knew as, Wade Wilson, and Deadpool. A man they'd been looking for, for fifteen long months, with an arsenal attached to him and no cares in the world, singing "Come and get your love". Strangely this all brought him to a dull sort of ease.
And though he seemed perfectly harmless at this point, Gale remembered his mentor's words.
Agent Gale parked the car, jumping from his seat and opened the back door forcefully, prepared to abide by the strict SHIELD protocol and 'secure' Wilson. It was his first time out of a training simulation, and he was determined to show his skills to Director Fury, but where an approving nod should have been, a confused expression was. However, he continued.
As Wilson reluctantly emerged from the car with a bewildered expression on his face, he took him by the shoulder with one hand and with the other took his gun off safety.
Agent Gale looked to Fury who's expression became lighter, "That won't be necessary, Agent. Mr. Wilson's here on his own accord."
Gale released his grip from Wade's shoulder, swallowing back his embarrassment at the same time as he was trying to wrap his head around the situation he was being faced with. He looked from Fury to Wilson, unsure of who to apologize to first.
"Oh." He finally let his eyes rest on Fury, "Sorry, director." Then he looked to Wilson, "I apologize, Mr. Wilson."
"No problemo." Wade said with a smile and shrug, "Happens more than you'd think. But hey: it really is your first day, isn't it?"
"Alright, enough chit chat, ladies. Remember the meeting we need to be getting to, Wade?"
"That song reminded me of another song. And now that song's stuck in my head. Strange, huh?" Wade murmured as he walked ahead, through the sliding bullet-proof thick glass doors, "Sitting here eating my heart out waiting...waiting for some lovin' to come..."
Fury started for the door behind him, watching with semi-amusement as Wade started performing a small dance complete with footwork and finger pointing down the hall.
"Director Fury, sir?"
Fury turned around to face a distressed Gale, face and hair damp, hands quivering against his gun. Nick simply gave an eyebrow raise in response.
"I don't understand. Did you really need me? I mean- I'm happy to help, but-"
"I didn't need you, no. But did you need this? I saw your files, Agent Gale. You're accomplishments didn't go unnoticed, but that in the academy. This is the kind of experience you need. I'm assigning you to this case an active agent from this point on, Agent Gale. Be ready for a call at any time and make sure to read over Wilson's file. I've given you access to it. Be prepared. I see potential in you, Agent Gale. Don't disappoint me."
Gale's mouth gaped and he had to swallow three times before he could respond.
"I-...Thank you, sir. Thank you."
By the time he'd said this, Fury had already started through the door, watching as Wade made imaginary guns with his fingers and sent them shooting around the hall, wiggling and shaking as he walked, twirling every few steps.
"Looking for some hot stuff, baby, this evening...I need some hot stuff, baby, tonight, I want some hot stuff baby this evening, Gotta have some hot stuff, gotta have some hot stuff toniiiii- No. No, I hate Donna Summers. Back to Redbone I guess. Come and get your love! Come and get your looove!"
"This isn't karaoke night, Wilson. The least you can do is try and act serious." Fury came up beside him and raised his eyebrows, "I didn't promise you they'd accept your 'request'."
Wade shrugged, "If they say no, I'll just chill in your office, use your kick ass computers for a while, find the shit head I'm looking for and then BAM! I'm golden."
"Seems pretty risky. But hey, if you fuck this up for yourself, I could care less. Don't fool yourself into thinking I'm gonna beg these guys to take you in." Fury chuckled a little to himself, slipping his ID card through the slot beside the set of metallic steel doors at the end of the hall, "So: I know good first impressions aren't exactly in your arsenal of incredible abilities, but how about you test yourself? See if you can't accomplish it?"
The doors slid open and it was at this point, Wade finally fell quiet. Silently walking behind him, two steps behind at all times. They got to an elevator eventually. Fury pressed the number 12 and Wade came in afterward, standing just before the doors as they slid closed.
"What's not to like?" He murmured, "I make great first impressions."
Nick couldn't suppress the small smirk that came across his face as he stood behind silently, arms crossed.
"Stark's really gonna love you."