Controlling Chaos: A MCU Spideypool fanfic:
Issue 08: The Moment is Gone
Spider-Man had only gotten them a few blocks away from the explosion when he heard a soft beep beep coming from his gauntlet.
“Wazzat?” Deadpool asked with some concern in his voice.
“I got a text message,” Spider-Man answered as he lowered them to the ground.
“No, I don’t think texting while swinging is as bad as texting while driving,” Deadpool said. “But the real question is ‘where he’s keeping the phone?’”
“Hey, we did that joke already, and it wasn’t funny the first time,” Spider-Man said with annoyance as he broke into Deadpool’s conversation with himself.
Spider-man landed more heavily on the street than he intended. He had to place a hand against a nearby wall to steady himself. When he caught his breath, he eased Deadpool off his shoulder and sat him on the ground with his back against the side of a building. Once seated, Deadpool flexed his hands, proving that his left arm had reattached itself. Spider-Man was relieved to see a sign that Deadpool was healing.
With half an eye still on Deadpool, Spider-Man reached into one of his gauntlets and pulled out a small cell phone.
“Oh, so that’s where you kept it,” Deadpool said. “Useful. But not as much fun as what I was imagining.”
“I don’t want to know what you were imagining,” Spider-Man shot back.
“A pocket dimension. Why, what did you think I was imagining? Hmmm…naughty, naughty Baby-boy.”
Spider-Man flushed. “Right. As if you weren’t thinking something perverted!”
“No, honestly, this time I wasn’t. That was all you. But you can think perverted thoughts about me anytime you want,” Deadpool said amiably.
Spider-Man didn’t say anything further as he checked his phone. He knew who the message was from—there was only one person who had this particular number.
“What does Krissi want?” he muttered.
He carefully pressed some buttons on his phone, an exercise made tricky because of his gloves. The text message read “Danger! SHIELD after you!”
“S.H.I.E.L.D.?” Spider-Man wondered aloud. “What does S.H.I.E.L.D. want with me?”
Spider-Man tucked his cell phone back into his gauntlet and then self-consciously checked his mask. Despite the abuse his costume had suffered that evening, his mask was still in one piece, and while the back of his costume had been shredded when he slid down the brick wall of the building, it was at least holding together enough so he hadn’t been swinging through the city naked. He never wanted to do that again. His body wasn’t in any shape for confrontations with S.H.I.E.L.D., but if their spies were nosing around, he was at least covered enough to protect his secret identity.
Deadpool’s red and black suit had disintegrated in the back and the front was only held on by his belts and the tattered remains of his straps. His mask was ripped and burned in places and only covered the top part of his face. Considering the wretched shape of his costume, it was a good thing Deadpool didn’t rely on it to protect a secret identity. For those who knew Deadpool, it was common enough knowledge to know his real name was Wade Wilson—even Spider-Man knew that and he wasn’t part of any superhero team or international government police agency thing.
Still, even if he didn’t have a secret identity to keep, Spider-Man doubted Deadpool wanted to have a run-in with S.H.I.E.L.D. this evening either. After another half moment to rest, he and Deadpool would be safely swinging over the streets. Spider-Man could find out later what S.H.I.E.L.D. wanted with them.
As he reached down to scoop Deadpool up again, he felt the tingle of his Spidey-Sense. He whirled around to try to find the source of danger, knowing that it was already too late to avoid a meeting with S.H.I.E.L.D.
Seven heavily-armed figures eased out of the shadows, four women and three men, and, as Spider-Man expected, they were dressed in S.H.I.E.L.D. uniforms. They each had at least one gun in hand–two had assault rifles, four had a pair of pistols, and one had a single gun. Two of the women took up a position in front of the other agents.
One was a dark skinned woman who was intimidatingly tall and correspondingly broad. Her black hair was slicked back into a low ponytail that jutted out from her head in a puff of natural curls. Her otherwise bland S.H.I.E.L.D. uniform was accessorized with a pair of small gold hoop earrings. She wore a stern expression, but unlike her colleagues, she wasn’t actively pointing her pistol at either Spider-Man or Deadpool.
The second woman leading the group was petite, Asian and holding a pair of pistols that were trained on them. Her proximity to the other woman made her look even smaller than she actually was in comparison. She looked severe with her cropped pixie haircut and her thin lips pressed in a harsh frown.
“Spider-Man, Deadpool, you’re coming in with us,” she announced.
“Over my dead body,” Deadpool snarled from beside Spider-Man. He already had a pair of his own guns in his hands that Spider-Man hadn’t even realized he had drawn. There was a flurry of clicks as a dozen guns were cocked in response.
“Whoa!” Spider-Man cried out. He raised his arms up to chest height and held out his open hands in a halting stance as he placed himself between Deadpool and the S.H.I.E.L.D. agents. “Okay, folks! Let’s calm this down a little.” He took a slight breath and addressed the agents. “So let’s start with: ‘hi. What’s up?’”
The Asian woman in front glowered. “We don’t have time for your games, Spider-Man. We’re not fooling around.”
“I’m not playing,” Spider-Man replied quite seriously. “I’m trying to figure out what’s going on and how we went from my, ‘I’m not a super-villain but I don’t want to join your club because your organization isn’t willing to accept me without knowing who I am under this mask and I’m not cool with that’ to this. We’ve been fine ignoring each other until tonight. So yeah, what’s changed?”
“Your own actions tonight have changed things. Submit yourself to us now. You will answer our questions in S.H.I.E.L.D. custody,” the smaller woman insisted stubbornly.
“Yeah, we’ll see how well you can ask anything with your mouth full of lead,” Deadpool threatened.
“Deadpool, I said ‘no killing’,” Spider-Man snapped without taking his eyes off the S.H.I.E.L.D. agents.
“Yeah, Spidey, we’ll talk about that sometime when there aren’t a dozen guns pointed at you.” Deadpool’s tone was falsely light, but there was an edge to his voice.
“This is ridiculous, Misato,” the larger woman suddenly spoke up. “We don’t need to bring them in—we can ask our questions here. This doesn’t need to be a blood-bath.”
“This isn’t going to be a blood-bath, Preston,” Misato stated. “There are seven of us and only two of them, and Wilson is missing his legs.”
“Sure, but I still got the parts that count,” Deadpool said snidely. Spider-Man wasn’t certain if he was referring to his hands, which held his guns, or if he was making an off-color reference to certain other parts of his anatomy. The two agents ignored Deadpool in any case.
“Yeah, you haven’t seen Deadpool in action before,” Preston retorted. “I have. Without his legs, seven-to-two, this might be an even match, but I don’t like those odds.”
Considering how beat up the pair of them were, Spider-Man didn’t particularly like the odds either, but Deadpool wasn’t as reticent. “Let’s find out—” Deadpool started.
“What is it you want to know?” Spider-Man broke in urgently, eager for a possible resolution to the confrontation that didn’t involve a gun fight or capture into S.H.I.E.L.D.’s hands.
Misato glared at Preston, who returned with a steely look. After a pregnant pause, Misato gave up. “What was your involvement with the explosion?” she asked Spider-Man.
“Our involvement?” Spider-Man repeated, incredulously. “Our involvement was that we got blown up in it!”
Her eyes narrowed as she continued to question, “And how did you find out about our investigation?”
“What investigation? Agent, I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Spider-Man answered, honestly lost.
“Don’t play coy, Spider-Man,” Misato said dismissively. “You expect me to believe you happened by chance to come upon the same location we were investigating?”
“It was just a coincidence,” Spider-Man insisted. “We were following our own lead on our own investigation.”
Misato looked at Spider-Man sharply. “You really expect me to believe that?”
“Well, if we had caused the explosion, we wouldn’t have gotten ourselves blown up in it.” Spider-Man turned slightly to show how torn up his back was, and pointed to Deadpool on the ground. “We wouldn’t have let ourselves get this injured just for the fun of it.”
“I might,” Deadpool chimed in.
“Not helping, Deadpool,” Spider-Man hissed at the man behind him before continuing to address the agents in front of him. “Ok, he might, but I wouldn’t have.”
“They have a point,” Preston interjected. “They wouldn’t have gotten themselves blown up if they caused the explosion. And no,” she said as if anticipating Misato’s next question, “I doubt it was some elaborate ruse for our benefit—they were legitimately surprised by our arrival just now. It does appear that this is just a case of them being in the wrong place at the wrong time.”
“I will concede that you were not the ones that created the explosion,” Misato begrudgingly admitted. She lowered her gun and her fellow agents did the same. Deadpool kept his guns half raised. “That being said,” Misato continued, “because of your blundering, the apartment that might have contained valuable evidence was destroyed and some of our agents nearly got killed. Stay out of our investigation, Spider-Man, Deadpool. Or next time we will arrest you for interfering.”
She gave a brief nod of dismissal at the agents behind her. As the other agents turned to leave, Misato paused a moment longer before saying, “And Spider-Man. If I were you, I would reconsider what your current alliance says about you.” Misato looked pointedly at Deadpool.
Anger filled Spider-Man and he yelled, “I’d rather hang out with him than with you any day!”
Unfortunately his retort went unnoticed as the agents had already disappeared into the shadows. Spider-Man sighed. “Come on. Let’s get out of here before they change their minds.” He hauled Deadpool back over his shoulder and with a flick of his wrist, he shot web upwards and swung them away.
**************************
Do you think he meant it?
The real question is: does he even realize what he said?
Only one way to know…
“Did you mean it? What you said back there?” Deadpool asked Spider-Man.
“I definitely meant it when I said ‘no killing’,” Spider-Man replied.
The way he keeps harping on that it’s like that’s all we do.
It is all we do. We’re damn good at it too.
“It’s not! I’m more than just a killer, ok?” Deadpool bristled. “Look, Spidey, I know I don’t have the best track record or anything, but you need to trust me a little bit. I’ve been in the city a couple weeks now and I haven’t even shot a single person. You said you don’t want me to kill anyone, so I won’t kill anyone. Besides, I am one of the best shots in the world, I can shoot people and not kill them, and yeah, I am going to shoot anybody before they shoot you.”
You said ‘you’. As in Spider-Man.
“I mean me. If someone has a gun on ME, I shoot them.”
Smooth. There’s no way he saw through THAT.
Spider-Man was quiet again. Deadpool wondered if he had said too much.
Of course you said too much. Merc with the Mouth, right?
It is your thing, talking too much.
“Are you mad at me?” Deadpool asked pitifully.
Spider-Man didn’t answer and Deadpool thought that perhaps he hadn’t spoken out loud after all. He had a tendency to lose track of inside and outside voices after being all exploded dead and all.
“I—I don’t work for S.H.I.E.L.D.” Spider-Man said hesitantly after another long moment. “But I don’t want them as an enemy…” he trailed off.
“So no gun stand-offs with S.H.I.E.L.D.?” Deadpool hazard a guess. “I got it. But they don’t like you either. Why do you care what they think?”
You’re a fine one to talk. You care an awful lot about what others think of you for someone who claims otherwise.
“D—don’t laugh, okay?” Spider-Man said quietly.
“Huh?”
“I sort of wish that maybe even if I don’t want to reveal my secret identity, if I can show how good a hero I can be, that they might ask me to join the Avengers,” Spider-Man admitted.
That…that is so adorable!
Too bad he doesn’t stand a chance with us being around him.
“My being around you ruins that idea, doesn’t it?”
“You saved my life tonight,” Spider-Man said quietly. “You’re more of a hero than you realize.”
He does like us!
Take him in your arms already!
“OUCH!” Spider-Man yelped with pain. “No hugging! Careful of my back…Or I’ll web your hands together!”
“Ooh, Spidey, ya promise?”
“Deadpool! You might have died to save me but that doesn’t give you the right to add a groping clause to our agreement!”
Deadpool hung compliantly for a moment before he couldn’t help himself. Well, if he couldn’t grope…
“I just died in your arms tonight…” Deadpool sang out, “Must have been something you said! I just died in your arms tonight…”
Spider-Man snorted a laugh. “Don’t…I can’t laugh and swing at the same time…”
“Must have been some kind of kiss…” his voice trailed off as the words echoed back at him off the buildings surrounding them.
Spider-Man was silent in reply.
I should’ve walked awaaaay! I should’ve walked away…