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Photo Kabob!	By : benny_grl Category: Marvel Verse Comics > Deadpool Views: 1906 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Deadpool (I wish though!),Spiderman, the avengers or any Marvel Universe, X-Men nor the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 1-ch1
- 2-ch. 2
- 3-Ch.3
- 4-Ch. 4
- 5-Ch 5
- 4
- 5
Peter had just turned the key in his doorknob when his cell rang in his pocket. He struggled to grab for it, his hands full between his the groceries he’d grabbed, his book bag. Quickly, he transferred everything to one hand, reaching around to his back pocket and digging out the device.
Putting the phone to his ear, Peter pushed opened the door with his heel and shuffled inside, trying to keep the milk from falling out of the bag at the same tim. “Yeah?”
“Peter!” Tony’s voice came over the speaker.
His agitated tone made Peter roll his eyes. Tony always had some bug up his butt when it came to the spider’s heroic activities. As if his tech somehow made Ironman superior than the rest. Note that the actual man had no powers of his own, just intellect and money. Granted, he willingly shared said money as compensation for Peter missing work to go on missions for Shield but still; Stark’s self proclaimed leadership role could be irksome. “Yeah. Whats up?”
“What the hell is going on? Are you a part of this, too?”
Peter’s brows scrunched together. “What are you talking about?” he asked, finally setting all his groceries on the kitchen counter and then dropping himself with backpack on the couch.
“Everyone’s least favorite mercenary just decided to hold an entire news station hostage to host his very own report,” Tony said.
Peter sat upright. “He’s doing what!?”
“Turn on channel 5.”
Peter grabbed his remote, switching on the television across the room. Deadpool’s masked face indeed flashed across the screen, making Peter’s jaw drop.
{—going to get hurt. Quit screaming, ya ninnies. Ha! I just said ninnies. Now. Anyway. As I was saying,} Deadpool continued. He was sitting behind a desk, one arm slung around the shoulders of a terrified looking reporter and the other gesturing as he talked, hand gun pointing wildly.
Peter grinned. He couldn’t help it. It had been days since he’d seen the lovable red panda and this sighting, though unfortunate, made his heart flutter. He chuckled, wondering what the hell the man was doing.
“Are you laughing? Do you seriously find this situation funny?” Tony demanded.
“No. Of course not. But why is Deadpool there?”
“It just started a couple minutes ago, so we have no idea. He hasn’t made any ransom demands. in fact, he’s seems to be trying to be nice. Which makes us worry even more.”
“Well, I’m sure Deadpool has good reason to plaster his face all over the news…He’s usually pretty camera shy.”
“Right. Well, we’re sending a team to deal with it. Are you sure you know nothing about it?”
“Not a clue.”
“Fine.” The line went dead and Peter put his phone on the coffee table, continuing to watch the “show.” Granted, as Spiderman, maybe he should help but, Peter was too nervous over how Deadpool might react. It had been a few days since that night but the masked mercenary had yet to join Spiderman for his nightly patrols. Considering the circumstances, Peter wasn’t surprised…just disappointed. Given time, perhaps the red panda would join him again soon.
{ok, ok. Give me a close up, camera man, old buddy old pal, would ya?} Deadpool said on the screen. The merc held up a badly drawn picture done in crayon of himself shooting another man, “ FRANCIS” written underneath.
{Have you seen this man? Also goes by deuce bag, or Ajax, Mr. Clean’s ugly cousin. Please be on the lookout. He is a Major sack of shit bricks and, if he’s watching this;} Deadpool leaned in, the white eyes of his mask turning to slits in a menacing glare, {I’m going to hunt you down like a fat man looks for a dropped French fry that fell out in the bag. And when I do…you’re going to wish you’d never come looking for me. You messed with the wrong one, Francis. No one threatens my friends without getting shish-kabobbed by Bea and Arthur.}
Deadpool laid his gun on the desk, then pulled out one of his katanas. The light struck the blade just right, its sharp edge gleaming. {You see, Francis, Arthur is grumpy. But, Bea, here?} He lifted the blade to his nose, sniffing the steel. {She is a truly dedicated performer and, always a joy to work with. She’ll happily slicing you to little, teeny, tiny pieces. So...if you really think you want a piece of this, bring it fuck face. But don’t worry. If you can’t find me, just wait. I’ll find you. And—}
There was the distinct sound of Ironman’s suit gearing up in the distance.
{oh. Hey, Iron dude. I didn’t hurt anyone…Just had a message to send. What’re you—!} Peter burst out laughing as Deadpool blasted to the side, through the set wall and into another room. Ironman appeared on screen, calming down the reporters. The news stayed on for another couple minutes as the cameraman continued to record. Then, the screen went blank, due to “technical difficulties.”
Peter shook his head with a sigh. “Deadpool and his shenanigans,” he chuckled. He stood, made his way into the kitchen to fix dinner before patrol.
****
Everything continued as usual and nightly patrols were quiet except for the odd mugger or armed burglar.
Spiderman dropped down from his web rope onto a nearby rooftop, and lifted his mask over his mouth. The sun was just going down over the city, rays of bright yellow and red cast a warm glow between the buildings. He reached inside the bag, and pulled out one of the tacos he’d bought from the food cart on the street below. The scent of spices and cheese wafted to his nose as Peter lifted it to take a bite.
Peter closed his mouth, pausing. He hadn’t eaten any kind of Mexican food since Deadpool had stopped joining him at night. He stared at the food, cradling the taco in his lap.
Peter bit his lip, heaving a heavy sigh. He’d been starving a moment ago but now...had lost his appetite. Spiderman stuffed the taco back in the brown paper bag and swung off the building. He swung around for a bit until he spotted a homeless woman sitting by an alleyway, holding out a cup. Spiderman lowered himself until he hung upside down in front of the woman. She startled, lurching away from him, hands in front of her eyes.
“Hey there, citizen. Sorry to scare you. Here’s a meal, courtesy of your friendly, neighborhood Spiderman.” He held out the bag towards her.
She lowered her hands and snatched it. “Thank you…” the woman said warily.
“No problem, ma’am. Stay warm tonight!” Spiderman gave a small wave before zipping back up the building and swung away.
Night had descended, plunging the city into darkness. And from that darkness, Spiderman spotted the bright orange flames that billowed out of an apartment building, sirens blaring as fire trucks sped past. He could already smell the smoke that was rising out, and Spiderman reached to hit the spider emblem on his chest. It activated a breathing filter to protect his lungs. He quickly swung closer, landing on the roof opposite the one in flames.
Spiderman leaned over the edge, gaging whether the firefighters below had a handle on the situation. Most of the residents had been evacuated, the FF’s showering the building with water. From what he could tell, there wasn’t anything left for him to do, no one to rescue. His shoulders slumped. He was glad everyone was alright, but…had hoped for a more exciting night. Anything to distract from the loneliness he’d felt creeping in.
Spiderman scratched his head, turning to continue his patrol. Peter froze, his spider sense tingling on his neck. Looking across the roof, a man stepped out of the shadows, fully covered from head to toe in black.
Spiderman scoffed, hand on his hip. “Well, you’re not suspicious at all. Can I help you?”
The man didn’t respond, creeping steadily closer.
“Uh…okay. Well, give my regards to…whoever your boss is. See ya!” Peter shot out a web to a building across the street. But that second of distraction cost him. The man shot across the concrete, faster than Peter could see, a hand gripping his leg. He was thrown backwards, landing haphazardly on his side.
Spiderman groaned, rubbing at his head. “Okay…not nice.” He stood, facing the attacker. “What do you want?”
“He really does dress like a big blue and red spider. Who’d have thought? I thought the papers were joking,” a voice said from the side.
Peter whipped his head around, moving backward until both men were within sight. Ajax, or Francis rather, leaned beside the rooftop doorway, one heel on the wall.
He stepped forward, his head tilted as Francis looked Spiderman up and down. “You really have been as predictable as the heroic spider is proclaimed. Showing up at a fire.”
Peter’s brows scrunched, his eyes narrowing. “Did you set that fire?” he asked, pointing to the building still seeping smoke from the windows.
Francis’s eyes slid to his associate. “I don’t do tasks like that.”
“Right. Wouldn’t want to get your own hands dirty…” Spiderman crossed his arms. “By the way, I heard you harassed a friend of mine. Peter Parker. Nice kid. Stay away from him.”
“Oh, him?” Francis raised a brow. “Yeah. That lead didn’t work how we wanted.” His eyes narrowed on the spider. “Figured there might be bigger fish we could track down.”
“Little ol’me?” Spiderman said. “You shouldn’t have. Really. You should walk away right now.” He dropped his voice an octave. “I’m not the target you can handle.” But as soon as the words left his mouth, a wave of dizziness made Peter stumble to the side. He caught himself, leaning on the wall with one hand.
Francis chuckled. “All it takes is one touch. And my friend’s abilities can render anyone useless for hours.”
Peter struggled to form words, slamming to the ground as his knees gave out. “…How?”
Francis stepped up to the hero, and tapped the place his goon had grabbed Peter’s leg earlier. He lifted a piece of the suit that had ripped from the impact with the wall. But perhaps, it hadn’t ripped then. He turned to see the other man hold up his hand, a ring on his middle finger had a small spike sticking out.
“Poi..poiso…?”
“Is it poison?” Francis laughed. “No.no. God, no. We need you alive, brov.” He leaned in, his face inches away. “I’m tired of the games with that fucking Wilson character. He’s messing with our product and my clients are not happy. It’s time to end this. And, you are the bait, little spider.”
Spiderman growled, and tried to grab for the man but failed. His strength flagged. But, Peter refused to pass out.
“Get him out of here. I’ll meet you later,” Frantic said as he straightened.
Peter struggled but the man in black picked him up, throwing the masked hero over his shoulder like a rag doll. The man grunted at him, painfully jostling Spiderman, his shoulder digging into the spider’s stomach. “The harder you fight, the stronger my serum becomes.”
Peter made himself relax at those words. “Who...are you?”
“No one you want to know. Now; sleep.” The man ripped another hole in Peter’s suit with his ring and touched him, skin to skin. Spiderman grunted but soon succumbed to the man’s power, his head dropping as he passed out.
- 4
- 5
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