As Mr. Big regaled the duo with his backstory, Wade continued sprinting toward the oncoming convoy. As he began fumbling with both grenades in each paw, he shoved one awkwardly in the back of his pants before holding the second with both hands. As the convoy turned onto the street, Wade slowed his pace to a brisk skip. The officers driving the two front squad cars were quick to activate their sirens and honk for the dog to move.
Wade paused for a second before squinting with intent, handling the grenade like a bowling ball. He stood up on his paw pads and, accompanied with twiddling sounds, tiptoed forward before lobbing it underhandedly. The bomb landed a few feet in front of the armored truck before rolling under the front and exploding.
"Hannah-Anna... BARBARA!" Wade shouted in a sing-song voice, jumping victoriously in the air.
He looked ahead just in time to see the armored truck violently flip into the air, passing the front two escort vehicles, and fall towards him. Not wanting to disappoint any onlookers, Wade ran and slid forward on his knees.
"Slow-mo dodge~!" He cried, striking a cool pose while awaiting the truck to fly overhead.
THOOM! Unfortunately, his so-called calculations fell short as the steel roof of the mobile cell landed square onto the antihero.
Wade's eyes slowly blinked open as his vision blurred before adjusting to the soft lighting. He realized he was on his back in the center of a brown rug and above was a fan slowly spinning.
He groaned a little as he sat up, shaking his head. "Ugh... gotta lay off the Milk Bone."
Looking to the right he saw a large, mahogany desk with a pair of black ears sticking up from behind. Finally getting up and brushing off his pants, Wade turned to see an all black jackal in a dark dress sitting cross-legged.
"Hmm, you've got shorter." she teased in a calm tone.
"Not where it counts." Wade retorted, making himself at home by walking towards a mini-fridge and peering inside. "So what'll it be while we kill time? I'm thinking tater tots."
"Sounds good." the jackal replied, getting up from her chair. After walking a few feet to a record player, she reached out a skeletal paw and pressed down on the arm. As the small needle began scraping across the vinyl record a smooth jazz number began playing.
Moving with a rhythmic strut, Wade slid a plate of tater tots into a microwave while scatting as he set the timer. "Wanna fork or spoon?"
"Tater tots are finger food, Wade."
"Oh, I know that." He replied, looking back with wiggling eyebrows... if he still had them.
Shaking her head, Death waltzed over to him, humming to the music. "You're healing faster. I think you're getting too used to this."
"Eh~ Not the comeback I was expecting, but alri-"
Before Wade could finish, Death reached for his shoulder until it was only an inch away. "Time's up, Wade."
The crackling static of walkie-talkies could be heard from the outside as well as the muffled chatter that followed. Under the overturned truck, Wade could just move about in the small crater made from his body.
"Is that a bone?" he murmured to himself, feeling something under his tail.
After struggling a bit in the very limited space he had, Wade managed to use his paw to pull out whatever was under him. With a small click, he yanked out a circular pin and slowly leaned his head back after realizing what it was for.
"Well..." he sighed. "There's always tater tots." KABOOM!
"Hold still, Wade." Death spoke quietly. "I want to make sure the details are just right."
As she continued painting, Death would randomly glance at the nearby couch. Resting there on an artfully constructed pile of cloth was Wade's head.
"Hey-uh, how long is this gonna take? My muzzle itches." He whined, trying to rub his lower jaw against the cloth.
"Don't worry, it's just a bust." She explained. "You've got time." Off to the side of the couch were several plastic containers containing the rest of Wade's body.
Wade made the most attractive face he could muster. "Go on then~ draw me like a French poodle."
Yea... long hiatus. But I'm coming around.
Short chapter too, I know. Just gotta get used to writing again after a while... too much gaming.