Blood And Snow (Wolverine/Deadpool)

[James "Logan" Howlett]

"What do you want them to say?"

"Logan."

"Just Logan?"

"Yeah. Just Logan, got a problem with that Bub?"

That's where the memories cut off. Logan flashed back to the present, staring at a table scratched up with long, deep clawmarks. There was dark, dried blood all over the floor and throughout the room. It smelled like death and metal in here. He couldn't remember a thing before that conversation. How had he ended up on that table, what were they doing to him? Why was he getting dog tags replaced? Who in the hell was he?

Wolverine was on leave from the X-Men, as he did now and then. As usual, he was off hunting the secrets of his past. Remembering this place was rather new, having come to him in dreams gradually. First came the part where he lay on the table, then he remembered being submerged and plugged up with tubes all over her body. Then pain.

After that, he dreamed of bursting out of the glass container, attacking everything around him wildly, then taking off into the cold. It was only three nights ago that Logan remembered where this place was. He was staring at the room, now trying to force more memories, but so far, no luck.

Even worse, someone knew he was here, and was approaching, he could smell it.

Snikt

Claws out, Logan waited for his stalker to appear. That's when the smell identified the person in question, bringing a sneer across Wolverine's profile.

"Wilson..."

[Wade "Deadpool" Wilson]

"Oh good god, I'm back in f*****g Canada," Wade lamented, listening to the echoes bounce and rebound off the concrete walls of the abandoned - well, it looked abandoned, anyway - facility. He considered his words as they echoed back.

"Well, it's not like I had nothing but bad times here," he continued, crawling over a heap of collapsed concrete. Whatever had happened here, had happened with powers. "Got laid for the first time in Canada. Got drunk for the first time in Canada." He paused, squirming a little to free up the hilt of one of his katanas from where it had jammed into the ceiling. "Hell. Both of those happened pretty much at the same time."

He rolled down the heap of debris, tumbling and landing lightly on his feet. "Watched my dad bleed out in Canada. That was worth it, right?"

He'd been hired for a quick smash-n-grab B&E job, oddly enough. Hired for his 'specialist knowledge' of the target. So, he'd asked "What specialist knowledge" and they'd said "it's the Weapon X facility" and so he'd said "f**k you, I'm not going back" and they'd said "we'll make it worth your while" and he'd said "ain't no way".

But here he was. They'd managed to make it worth his while. With a few names and addresses. And with a shit-ton of money. And so he was back. Back in the place where a joint US/Canadian black bag project had made him superhuman.

"Work it, make it, do it, makes us," he sang, enjoying the reverb effect of the echoes in the tunnel. "Harder, better, faster, stronger."

Of course, he'd been a discipline problem here, so they'd sent him off to experience the other side of the operation.

"More than, hour, hour, never."

That was how they'd managed to make it worth his while with a few names and addressess. Because he had a few serious grudges to work out, and not everybody had been on-site when he'd managed his "back from the dead like I'm Jesus F Christ" routine and brought the wrath down on everyone he could find that was part of the Weapon X project.

"Ever, after, work is, over."

And a shit-ton of money. Let's not forget that part.

Deadpool emerged into a central room, with hallways branching off like the points of a compass. And that passage there would take him to his target, a thought that caused him to stop in the middle of the floor and break it down.

"Work it, make it, do it, makes us, harder, better, faster, stronger." One finger pointing heavenwards (or, at least, ceilingwards), head thrown back and singing loudly, he thrust his hips and shook his booty for all he was worth.

"Work it harder! Make it better! Do it faster! Makes us..."

"Wilson..."

He froze. "That ain't the way the lyrics go," he complained. Then he spun, one hand gripping the hilt of a katana and the other the handle of a Beretta 93R. "Wolvie!" he shouted, voice cheerful. "Wolverineie! The Wolvster! Whatcha doin' here, my man My main man - no, wait. Wait. That's that Kiss-looking space psycho that we're not allowed to refer to by name."

(OOC: We probably should have coordinated this, but I'm imagining the place as largely abandoned. And, of course, bait for a trap.)

[James "Logan" Howlett]

If there was one being in the entire universe that Wolverine could not stand, Wade Wilson was he. Logan hated Deadpool back when they were working together on Team X, and he hated him now. The man simply never stopped talking. Even when he was silent, one could just tell that Wade was talking to himself in his head or under his breath. it was sickening, it drove Logan right up a wall, he wanted to tear his throat out.

The problem with that was Logan had done it before, and Wade just grew a new one, damn healing factor. Logan should have put a patent on it.

"What're you doing here Wilson?" Wolverine snarled at his former teammate, "Last I heard outta you was you were working as a mercenary, made a hit on Fury, failed miserably. Kinda matches up with most of your jobs, eh?" Wolverine wasn't really in the mood to chat, but he had to know what Deadpool was up to. Obviously whatever it may have been before, Wolverine had become his priority.

Unless Wolverine had been the priority from the get go, it was always a possibility. Someone could have put a hit on him, Wade would be the only two bit Merc with the balls to go after someone like him. Mostly because killing him was next to impossible, and only Wade was crazy enough to try anyway.

"I'm going to regret saying this, but speak up, or I'll make you talk."

[Wade "Deadpool" Wilson]

"What're you doing here Wilson?" Wolverine snarled.

F*******k! Deadpool thought. F**kf**kF**Kf**kityf**kf**k!

Wolverine!

I don't need this s**t!

He's gonna bub at me any second, isn't he?

"Last I heard outta you was you were working as a mercenary, made a hit on Fury, failed miserably. Kinda matches up with most of your jobs, eh?"

Hate it when he bubs at me.

"Smokin' hot, though. Killer abs."

F**K! Did I just say that out loud

I think I did!

All right, Wade. Stay cool.

It's not like you're gay, just because you're comfortable enough to realize a man is attractive.

Gotta say something.

"But, uh, that's in a totally not-gay way. Not that there's anything wrong with it, if you're into dudes. Which I'm not. All about the ladies, that's me. I was just sayin', in a totally not-gay 'one dude noticing another dude in the locker room, when the dude in question is just outta the shower and still all damp and glisteny' sorta way."

Great!

Yeah!

Sold that!

Totally not gay!

"I'm going to regret saying this," wolverine growled, "but speak up, or I'll make you talk."

"Soooo..., yeah," Deadpool blinked in confusion. What's he playing at? Shit. He's gettin' psychological. Better throw him off guard, and get the first shot in, before he gets all 'bubsniktsniktbub' on me...

"Usually, and I'm just makin' an observation here, usually you're trying to shut me up, so color me confused here - which reminds me: what the hell are you doing here? I mean, it's not like either one of us have happy place memories of Weapon X, but I'm getting some valuable names and addresses and a shit-ton of money to come here, while you..."

Oh, s**t. Maybe he's freelancing. Maybe he's here for me!

"Hell, last I heard, you're playing 'superhero' for Chuck Xavier - although, I gotta admit, given the sheer number of fine honeys he's convinced to wander around in spandex and tight leather there, showin' off what Darwin gave 'em, I've thought about it myself - so I know you ain't here for the money and happy f**king Easter, motherf**ker!"

An antipersonell grenade hurtled into the room that he'd decided Wolverine was in and Wade was hot on its heels, Beretta 93Rs blazing.

[James "Logan" Howlett]

"Smokin' hot, though. Killer abs."

Logan raised an eyebrow, what the hell was wrong with Wilson? He growled, baring his teeth. As soon as he got a lock on Deadpool, Logan was going to lunge and take his head clean off, it'd finally shut him up. Hopefully. There was a serious doubt in Wolverine's mind that ripping off Deadpool's head would actually kill him. There was little to no chance at all, his body would probably walk up to the head and just put it back in place.

"But, uh, that's in a totally not-gay way. Not that there's anything wrong with it, if you're into dudes. Which I'm not. All about the ladies, that's me. I was just sayin', in a totally not-gay 'one dude noticing another dude in the locker room, when the dude in question is just outta the shower and still all damp and glisteny' sorta way."

"Bub, if you don't shut up and get to the point, I'm gonna take my time when I'm cutting off your head."

"Soooo..., yeah,"

A snarl, "I'm not kidding."

"Hell, last I heard, you're playing 'superhero' for Chuck Xavier - although, I gotta admit, given the sheer number of fine honeys he's convinced to wander around in spandex and tight leather there, showin' off what Darwin gave 'em, I've thought about it myself - so I know you ain't here for the money and happy f**king Easter, motherf**ker!"

"What're you rambling on about Bub, I'm just-" A grenade rolled his way. Wolverine saw it, but it was already too late, "Oh hell." He braced himself for the impact of the blast, which came and sent him flying into the wall. His X-Men uniform protected him enough, he was singed and beat up, but the healing process began. That's when the bullets began to fly.

Launching himself at Deadpool, Wolverine's claws extended, he was going to slice him open, right now.

[Wade "Deadpool" Wilson]

"Shiiiiiiiit!" Deadpool screamed, as a stocky bundle of silver claws and black leather and bad attitude came leaping straight at him out of the smoke.

F**k!

Claws! Shit! Dodge!

Still kinda hot, though.

Emptying the 9mm clips straight into Wolverine's chest, Deadpool did the only other thing he could do. He deliberatly tripped, twisting as he went down, letting the mutant killing machine sail overhead. "Gawddamnit!" he shouted, "When did grenade-proof end up in your power suite?"

Wait, what?

Yeah, what he said. What gives?

I'm just sayin', is all. Dude's built.

....

...

...What

Wade kippuped, dropping the Berettas as he did. Not like he'd have time to reload, right in the middle of...

He backpedaled wildly, barely dodging an uppercut backed by ten inches of adamantium razors, then hopped back again as Wolverine lunged forward, swing. There was a sharp pain in his stomach, and he felt blood running down his front.

Either that, or he was way more terrified of Wolverine than he was letting on...

Seriously?

Well... yeah. He is.

We don't have time...

Listen, Deadpool's latent homosexuality....

Yo?

Your Canadian love machine is trying to cut off our head.

The course of true love never ran smooth...

FOCUS, Goddamnit! We're bleeding!

Deadpool snapped a toe-kick right smack into lil' Wolverine, then reached behind his back and produced twin butterfly swords.

"Take a contract on me, motherf**ker?" he screamed, lunging towards Wolverine. "I'll bone you like a chicken!"

What he said!

....

....

[James "Logan" Howlett]

Logan roared as he ended up over shooting and missing Deadpool, still managing to get shot several times over. As the healing factor pushed those slugs out of his wounds and sealed the skin up, he whipped around and snarled at Deadpool, "Bub, you're going to wish you'd just let me cut your stinkin' head off."

The scuffle turned from a gunfight to a bladed melee shortly after that, the two slicing at each other as was expected between the two.

That was until Wade initiated a no-holds-barred situation by kicking Logan straight in the junk. The X-Man growled lowly, dropping down for a moment, "Wilson, you just made the goddamn worst mistake of your stinkin' life. Crazy son of a bitch."

Logan wondered sometimes if his healing factor was a blessing or a curse. On one hand, he healed from virtually every wound. On the other, his body remembered the pain of every single one of said wounds. If there was one things Wolverine had a vivid memory of, it was pain.

"Take a contract on me, motherf**ker?" he screamed, lunging towards Wolverine. "I'll bone you like a chicken!"

Having already been getting back up, Wolverine was now the one in the grounded position as Deadpool came at him without control of his momentum. Logan smirked as his claws emerged again. He wasn't going to just cut Wade's head off now. No, now he was going to go slow. Starting with the red garbed Merc's left arm.

[Wade "Deadpool" Wilson]

Gawdamn he's fast!

And...

Shut it!

But...

Nuh!

Busy!

Wolverine came up low and grounded, claws out, like the spikiest and most unwanted bro hug ever. Deadpool tried to check his forward motion, realized there was no way that would happen in time, and gritted his teeth for what would happen next.

It didn't really help, mind. But it was the cool sounding thing people with no clue think will help.

Wade made an unpleasant gagging sound as the claws ripped through his bicep, and then scraped over before digging into bone. There was a wet cracking sound, and the left side of his body felt disturbingly lighter as the arm came off completely.

Damn. He hated sticking body parts back on. But not as much as he hated regrowing them.

He crashed into Wolverine, driving the remaining butterfly sword deep into the man's vitals. As they crashed to the ground, Wade tried to catch himself on his missing left hand, succeeding only in driving the gory stump into Wolverine's shoulder. Wade screamed like a little girl as pain spiked through his arm again, and his forehead - more by accident than by design - smashed into Logan's face with a crunch of cartilage.

Snarling with pain, he ripped upwards a few inches with the butterfly sword. "Like a trout!" he screamed. "Like a gawddamn trout!"

(OOC: Another post or two of regenerating lunatics trying to dismember each other, and then move on to Weapon X showing up? I think that was the plan, after all.)

[James "Logan" Howlett]

Logan snarled again as Wilson tried to gut him, ruining the torso of his suit. Intimidation wasn't going to work on Deadpool, so impaling himself on the blade would only be painful and nothing more. Instead, he reared his head back, then delivered an intentional headbutt this time. Stepping back, Logan finally managed to get a word in edgewise.

"I didn't take a hit on you Wilson. You're just a paranoid psychopath," he was trying to be reasonable this time, "Now, are ya gonna stop fighting? Or am I gonna have to cut your damn head off?"

Chances were, even that wouldn't shut him up.

The two of them had been through wars together, seen the absolute worst in humanity, become the absolute worse. He was still working on washing that away. At times, Logan worried that he'd never improve, that he just kept on ending up back in this very room, soaked in his own blood, in the blood of others. Wolverine needed to stop the cycle. Never come here again and forge a future rather than waste time trying to unveil the past. Let the curtain stay closed.

Now, to get out of this situation.

"Back off Wilson, or I really will cut your stinkin' head off."

Deadpool didn't get a chance to react, as a metal tentacle wrapped around his neck and dragged him into the shade of the room. Logan smelled the air and growled. Then, a man in a black trench coat tackled him as well. Weapon X was here. "Wilson," a thick Russian accent called out, "You fell right into the trap. Set by Weapon X, set by Omega Red."

Meanwhile Logan kicked his assailant out. The man snarled as he recovered, "Not bad, Runt."

"Victor..."

[Wade "Deadpool" Wilson]

Fu...

...uuuuu....

...uuuck,

That hurt!

Oh, yeah.

Baby hit me one more time!

Oh for..!

What the hell

What? I'm a lover, not a fighter!

There was a sickening crunch and Deadpool staggered backwards, pain exploding in his skull. One thing the midget had going for him, he had a hard head.

"I didn't take a hit on you Wilson," Wolverine snarled. "You're just a paranoid psychopath."

Wade would have loved to say something snappy. But his healing factor was full-time busy coping with a fractured skull and a concussion, so what came out was something like "Waaahuuhg." He was still managing to wave his one butterfly sword in more or less the right direction, though.

"Now, are ya gonna stop fighting? Or am I gonna have to cut your damn head off?"

With an effort of will that forced his healing factor to speed up, Wade managed to focus - more or less - on Logan. "Oo sar-red id," he managed, waving the butterfly sword and trying to figure out where his arm was.

"Back off Wilson, or I really will cut your stinkin' head off."

There! There it was! Good old lefty, one of his top two most favorite arms ever! "Ride, ride, I'm backin' off," he muttered. "Puddin' th' nife 'way..."

The butterfly sword slid back, and Wade ducked to grab his arm. Even as he was fitting it back into place, something cold and hard and flexible lashed around his throat and jerked him hard to the left. A chill, deeper and more numbing than mere cold, crept through his body.

"Wilson," a thick Russian accent called out, "You fell right into the trap. Set by Weapon X, set by Omeg a Red."

Deadpool tore at the tentacle desperatly. "No!" he gasped. "Don't... like... hentai!"

Meanwhile Logan kicked his assailant out. The man snarled as he recovered, "Not bad, Runt."

"Victor..."

The tentacle wasn't yielding, and his strength was fading rapidly. With a grimace, he scrabbled at his belt. "Hey, tovarich!" he struggled out, pulling the ring away with his thumb. "You... forgot... about my.... backup..."

"What backup is this?" Omega Red sneered. "You came alone."

"My... best... buddies..." Deadpool managed. He opened his hand and let the grenade drop. "Willy... and... Pete..."

(OOC: Yep. That's a white phosphorous grenade. Did I mention that Deadpool is nuts)

[James "Logan" Howlett]

Logan and Victor Creed were related, somehow, he knew that much. If it hadn't been for a bullet to the skull, Logan would know that he and Creed, both over one hundred years old, were brothers. However, Creed wasn't talking, for one reason or another, and Logan was left completely in the dark about his origin.

A slash to the face from the man sure was familiar.

"Still too slow, runt." Logan snarled after Victor taunted him. The four slash marks across his face all healed rather quickly.

"I was threatening Wilson, but I'm telling you Creed," Logan's claws popped out, "I'm gonna cut your damn head off." He launched himself at Sabretooth, intent to separate the man's head from his shoulders. The age old rivalry between the two continued here.

Or, it would have, if not for one thing. The Wade Wilson Factor.

That factor arrived in the form of a grenade, and not just any grenade, one of the most dangerous variety of the explosive weapons. A white phosphorous grenade.

Logan's claw sliced into Victor's pectoral muscle, and Victor's cut into Logan's throat as the brothers roared at each other. Then, the explosion rocked everything in the immediate area, sending the two crashing into the opposite sides of the collapsing room, everyone blown up, burned and bleeding.

His eyes began to close, but Logan managed to growl, "Wilson, you crazy f***"