<div class="floatleft">(http://media.comicvine.com/uploads/5/58550/1918376-deadpool_42_by_dave_johnson.jpg)</div><br/><br/><hr/><br/><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: arial;"><span class="bbc_size" style="font-size: 14pt;"><strong>  Name:</strong>       Wade Wilson<br/>  <strong>Title:</strong>          Deadpool™<br/>  <strong>Affiliation:</strong>  Panzy-ass Resistance<br/>  <strong>Location:</strong>   Rumble in the Jungle<br/>  <strong>Tags:</strong>         Jen, Sue, Myth, Leather-Tits x2, NPCs<br/><br/></span></span><hr/><br/><br/><br/><div style="text-align: justify;">     Wade watched Myth finish his work and then witnessed Typhoid Mary enter their friendly little jungle arena of death. She was a bitch... correction she IS a bitch. Also dressed like a slut. The multiple personalities don't help her fit in either. He both lusted and loathed her for it. He'd have been full-on twitterpated, until she opened her mouth. Talking like she was the main attraction and everyone wanted tickets. Instead of interrupting her outright he just waited and listened to her blahdy-blah-blah like everyone else. Part of him wondered how the women would handle the news of him working a job for Apocalypse... but the rest of him didn't give a fuck.<br/><br/>     So he waited, and waited, and waited for her to shut that stupid mouth, but before he could get in a response she disappeared... and now he knew to exactly where. His mind had fully regenerated and so had the complete memory of all his recent events, including his failed Tarzanian swing. <em>"We'll have to try that one again someday. Practice makes perfect."</em> He put one hand to his head to try and rub away the tickling sensation he could feel beneath his skull as his healing factor finshed up and began packing up shop.<br/><br/>     He turned to regard Jen and Sue, but before he could he was cut off by Myth's complaining. Like a little child. Where was his professionalism? He just laughed in response, and also at the absurdity of his situation. It felt eerily similar to Deadpool issue #5, except it was before the first page of art - before the cover even. Maybe issue #4 is a better fit? Anyways... the point is, it's decision making time. <em>"We can teleport back to Apocalypse and kill that bitch before she tells him - or we can join with</em> these <em>people..."</em> <br/><br/>     "Apocalypse is going to shit a flying saucer either way. Might as well say fuck-it. He'll probably kill that Typhoid cunt for failing to keep Myth under reigns - since he has so much 'potential'. So there's really no point in going that direction."<br/><br/>     <em>"True. God damn you're persuasive. So we're joining 'the Resistance' then?"</em><br/><br/>     "No, they'll never truly trust us; but we have to at least pretend for now.<br/><br/>     Deadpool's inner monologue finally comes to a stop as he realize others are waiting for a response. He speaks audibly this time, in Myth's direction, <strong>"I didn't know you needed a babysitter. Are you sure you're old enough to drink?"</strong><br/><br/>     <strong>"Look, all joking aside - I did what I had to do, as always; and you'll have to get used to that, because it looks like we're stuck together for now. There ain't no planning YOU can do that's going to give you any shot at the vengeance you seek. This battle's way bigger than any of us. Why the fuck do you think I was running errands for alien Hitler? If we don't stick together we're all as good as dead - and I don't like dying -"</strong><br/><br/>     <em>"It's not so much the dying... it's the lack of dying despite complete physical devastation part that sucks..."</em><br/><br/>     "Touche. Now quit interrupting me."<br/><br/>     <strong>"And I'm fucking sick of this damn jungle, so if we're going to argue about this we're going to do it elsewhere. I've got a safehouse that's hopefully still standing in New York. Take it or leave it."</strong> He reached down and put one hand on his belt and the teleportation device that was seated there. He held out his other, offering to everyone present. <strong>"Clock's ticking."</strong><br/><br/>     Normally Wade could only use the device to hop short line-of-sight distances, but he did have a few long-distance coordinates programmed in that he could pop away to when needed. Unfortunately it drained this shit out of his power-supply, which would need swapped out, especially if he was toting back luggage. One of Wilson's personalities hoped that everyone declined except She-Hulk, and the two could go back and get better 'aquainted' in private - that was the personality inside the front of his pants of course. Maybe it was Typhoid Mary's slutty attire that had sparked the inclination; or maybe it was just the current male-to-female ratio he was enjoying. Who knows?<br/><br/>     <em>"Ooo pick me. Pick me! I know!"</em><br/></div>