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Daytime Anguish
Downtown Queens
The screams of anguish and rage echoed throughout the apartment. The cheers of glee overpowered them at times as the anger boiled over from the torment and anguish. Deadpool leaned forward, relishing the torture of the victims as they screamed in agony. Deadpool grinned from ear to ear. 

“Told you he wasn’t the Daddy! Jerry, Jerry, Jerry!”

Deadpool laid panned out on the couch, in nothing but his underwear, hip holster and mask, which was pulled up above his mouth so he could stuff another handful of cheeseballs into it, the orange dust covering the edges of his lips and the tips of his fingers. Some leftover orange crumbs covered the scarred chest of the Merc as the next set of guests on the daytime TV show stepped up.

*You claim to be the world’s best mercenary, yet here you are, watching daytime trash TV while we have a high paying job sitting in front of us, literally!*

A small stack of files sat on the coffee table, a couple of photos sticking out of the cardboard covers that showed people, places and strange looking equipment. The thickest lay at the bottom, several papers rifled through from being shifted through several times.

“Also one of the most dangerous, I mean S.H.I.E.L.D.? I need to focus, collect my thoughts….”

The self-argument came to an end as the apartment loft’s door opened wide and a figure stepped through into the loft. Years of intense training snapped into place as Deadpool drew his S&W from the holster at his hip, the barrel snapping to the target and the finger hovering over the trigger. The laser-point on the barrel’s end hovering over the entrant’s eye….or at least where the eye should be. The left patch covered the left eye area, the young girl stepped in to see the weapon pointed in her direction, only to sigh.

“D, didn’t I say that I would be back soon? I just went to get groceries.” She shifted her arms, the brown paper bags ruffling in her arms.

Deadpool shrugged, “One has to always be careful when you’re as dangerous as me, Al.” It would have sounded more impressive if his mouth was not spluttering chewed orange cheeseballs all over his semi-naked body as the handgun is slid back into its holster.

Al shook her head and marched into the kitchen area of the loft. Alexander Althea had known Deadpool for the past several months and had gotten used to some of his stranger quirks, she had to, considering he was giving her room and board in exchange for her services. Nothing sexual, Al would never sink that low, but Deadpool never seemed to show that kind of interest so she was content with the affiliation so far. 

Al met Deadpool in a homeless shelter after the Merc had come recruiting, looking for his “Alfred” as he put it. None met Deadpool’s odd standards until Alexander stepped up. Wade told her if she could break down and reassemble the .45 ACP pistol, he’d take her in for free, chores included. Not only did she do just that, she did it in a very respectable time, under 5 minutes. This intrigued Deadpool and he took the young 20 year old into his loft apartment, informing her of her duties. She also didn’t ask why Deadpool wore his costume and he didn’t ask about her missing left eye. 

It was then she began noticing Wade’s stranger quirks, such as taking to calling her “Blind Al”, despite the fact she had full vision in her right eye. When she finally asked him why, he merely shrugged and stated that “you remind me of someone I used to know.” Deadpool refused to comment further and, once when she’d pissed him off about it, he locked her in a room he called the “Box”, a room filled with sharp objects. She was thoroughly confused now, seeing as the room was lit and she could clearly see all of the obstacles.

Al sat the bags on the counter top and opened one of the overhead cabinets. A bunch of soft bags fell on Al’s head as she groaned, turning one of the bright bags over to read the front of the bag.

“Captian Carl’s CheesyBalls? How many did you buy, D?” 

She answered her own question when she opened the other cabinets, finding more bags stuffed inside. She pressed her fingers into her eyes, calling out to Deadpool.

“D, I thought we discussed this. You bring in the money, I do the shopping and we don’t ask questions about what the other does.”

“But they were on sale! And we’ll be bringing in some big bucks soon.”

“What, the S.H.I.E.L.D. job?” Al bit her lip as she spoke too soon, realizing her slip.

“You’ve been reading my files again, Al? Didn’t we discuss that as well?”

“It was just sitting there wide open, you were out….. So it looks like it would be smart to do some of the other jobs first. Especially that HAMMER tech one……” She poked the conversation forward, hopping D would forget her infraction if he concentrated on the job.

Deadpool nodded in silent agreement. He’d been looking over the equipment that X wanted him to steal and he’s figured that taking some of the smaller companies would do first before going up against S.H.I.E.L.D. The HAMMER job looked the most promising, with the development of some new teleport tech that was still in the trial stages, giving the user only short range capabilities, but, with the layout to the Helicarrier in his possession from the mysterious voice on the other end of the phone, it would mean that none of the locked doors would be a problem. Deadpool stood up, the crumbs falling from his scarred chest as he struck a valiant pose for his one audience member. 

“Time to go to work! Now, Al, fetch me my pants!”