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[blowfish]

"Yo, there's no beep on this thing."

[ VOICE, VIDEO, ACTION ]

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whenever I decide to drop

[ishotyouuu]

Compared to what he's dealt with in the past few months, this pain means nothing.

Wade smiles where he lies on the cold hard ground, savoring how poetic it is that things would turn out this way. He's in bad shape-- a cut across his stomach has severed him almost in two; his right arm has been amputated above the elbow, and he seems to be missing at least one of his legs. A quote from the Wizard of Oz movie bubbles up to the surface of his tired brain (spoken by the Scarecrow, who was ironically his favorite character growing up)-- first they took my legs and threw them over there, then they took my arms and they threw them over there-- and he has to chuckle, weakly, at how much it fits in this exact moment.

The only difference between him and old strawhead-- now, anyway-- is that it'll be much more difficult to put him back together again. Maybe single-handedly taking on Pyramid Head wasn't the best idea. Well, if it wasn't single-handed before, it sure is now, he thinks, and lets out another weak, painful chuckle. He's losing a lot of blood. That would explain the light-headedness; the sudden giddiness. Wade welcomes the feeling-- it's certainly a much better alternative to the agony; the all-consuming desolation he'd felt when he saw that Jesse's face was gone from his phone. He'd managed to keep a stiff upper lip despite everything-- Hiruma and Rosie were beside themselves with grief (Hiruma was better at hiding it behind a tough exterior than Rosie was, but a huckster can easily spot another huckster)-- and he wasn't about to have yet another blowout while at least two of his roommates were down and out. But every man has his breaking point, and the convenience store-- that impenetrable eyesore-- seemed to taunt him day after day.

To be honest, he isn't sure how he'd managed to get close enough to the store to implement his plan. It was a suicide mission, plain and simple, and Wade didn't fool himself into thinking it was anything but. All he'd had was his guns, his swords, and a few homemade explosives he'd managed to pilfer from Housing 1's very own destructive duo. But perhaps it was this audacity-- the audacity of charging forward when you had nothing left to lose-- that caused luck to be on his side if only for a split second.

The explosion from the carefully-placed makeshift bomb rocked the side of the convenience store, but Wade didn't have time to see whether or not it had made an impact. The telltale scraping sound of a large weapon being dragged along the ground caught Wade's attention, and although the creature carrying it didn't make any sort of organic noises, he knew from the speed and frequency of the scraping noises that it was pissed. Wade didn't bother wasting time letting the triangle-headed monstrosity get near enough to take a shot at him. He opened fire-- blasting the creature with bullets and hot words shouted until his throat was hoarse; unleashing all of his despair and rage and blind hatred of Yao onto the one thing that had become a staple of Yao's cruelty and unrelenting sadism.

In hindsight, he thinks to himself, as he looks down at the extensive damage the Great Knife had caused him, it probably wasn't the best idea to charge in guns a-blazing. No doubt it would've worked, if the convenience store hadn't decided to respond to this flagrant display of violence by shutting off Wade's healing factor in the middle of the fight. Blood pools around Wade's body where he lies, sticky and warm-- but somehow kind of pleasant, as if he's slipping into a warm bath.

His repose is momentarily interrupted by the familiar scraping sound of Pyramid Head approaching him, and he looks down to see that the creature is looking at him curiously-- or at the very least, has his helmet angled down as if he's looking at him. Wade offers him a weary smile.

"Heh. Wasn't the smartest plan, was it? Y'know, I don't think we were properly introduced."

He moves his remaining arm slowly, painstakingly, turning the palm upwards, middle finger defiantly extended. It's not just Pyramid Head he's addressing now, but all of them-- Yao, the traitors, and that god damned convenience store.

"My name is Wade Wilson. Also known as Deadpool. I'm the last of the Originals here, and you can go fuck yourself."

The creature makes no sign that he hears or understands Wade's boast. He moves slowly, bringing the Great Knife high above his head. Wade closes his eyes with a sigh. All things considered, it's not a bad way to go. Heaven, hell, nothingness or eternity as a ghost-- anything has to be better than this. At least no one could say he didn't try. As the pain leaves him and he falls deeper into drowsy somnolence, he sees the faces of all the people that he's lost-- Glitch, Lightning, Caterina, Petros, Abel, Clem, Travis, Jesse, Al-- everyone whose lives had touched him in some small way are standing before him, smiling and waving and beckoning to him. It's a hallucination, it's gotta be-- Petros never smiles-- but it's one that Wade dives into in relief; in gladness. Tears spill from his eyes as his smile grows wider in anticipation. It feels wonderful not to have to struggle anymore. On my way, guys. Finally.

"Go 'head. Do what you g--"

Do what you gotta do, big guy, is what he'd meant to say, but one final strike of the Great Knife cuts off his words completely. There's one final nauseating crunch; one last split-second of agony as the weapon punches through his ribcage, and then Wade Wilson knows no more.