Blood Sample
Roleplaying Log: Blood Sample
IC Details

Did you ever have an idea that seemed really good at the time, then really bad later on?

Other Characters Referenced:
IC Date: September 29, 2019
IC Location: Long Island
OOC Notes & Details
Posted On: 30 Sep 2019 03:44
Rating & Warnings: R for language stuffs and wicked glares
Scene Soundtrack: [* ]
NPC & GM Credits:
Associated Plots

"I'm So Excited! I'm So Excited!"

The Pointer Sisters are blasting as loud as humanly possible thanks to the stereo system that Wade Winston Wilson probably stole from a random Amazonian delivery truck.

The door to the Poolcave Apartment is wide open and Deadpool is in full uniform as usual. He's dancing around his kitchen to the music while whipping up some deliciousness. It's easy to tell that he's cooking because, confusedly, it actually smells good up in that apartment! He's in the process of chopping up all kinds of veggies to throw into this huge bowl.

He's rocking his My Little Pony apron as a cape. Definitely rocking the chef's hat as well. Because Wade always has to dress the part. It's in the Deadpool Writer's Bible. Page 39.


Well it's really easy to find Deadpool today. The commotion is deafening, and this coming from someone who has had plenty of trigger time behind a fifty cal Ma Deuce. Leave it up to Domino's luck to step into the doorway, covering her ears and squinting, when she spies a wireless remote not five feet away from the door resting precariously atop of some funky smelling debris.

In a flash the remote is taken and the volume DOWN button is held, blessedly bringing the cacophony down from 'WTF We Don't All Have Healing Factors' to 'friendly neighborhood cafe during noon rush.'

It becomes tolerable enough that Wade will be able to hear the sound of the remote dropping back down onto its former perch from across the Poolcave.

Then she offers a Dennis the Menace greeting which only the likes of him are likely to get: "Hey Mister Wiiiiilllsoooooon."

Dennis never sounded so good.

Enter the albino who takes one good look at Deadpool's current attire and ..doesn't..react to it at all. Honestly so long as the man has pants on then not a lot fazes her anymore.



Deadpool whirls around with a whisk full of salsa and completely forgets all about the fact that he was just trying to make some edible dish of deliciousness. It's all thrown into the air as he takes off in a classic cartoon run towards Domino!


The pupils of his mask turn into huge hearts as he leaps for her. His apron cape flutters in the wind he's creating from being so slow-motion that this landing is probably not going to end well.

"Trespassers Will Be Glomped!"

Seriously, does anybody remember when Glomping used to be the top tier greeting on MUSHes?! Anyone?


*** not the greeting Domino had been expecting. Like, a 397,426 to one kind of chance. By comparison being greeted at gunpoint rated a one in eight odds. At the sudden rush of the mouthy merc Dom's doing the deer in headlights expression along with "Oh shit oh shit Oh Shit—"


She's never been glomped by a guy who's effectively wearing a gimp hood but part of her wonders if this scene is suddenly getting an R rating for it. Empty fast food containers and beer cans go flying all over the place as the albino is used against her will as a makeshift Swiffer across the Poolcave's floor.

"What the hell, Wade?!"

Honestly she might have preferred being met at gunpoint.

"Okay, oooo-kay, justjust dial it back a little there, buddy. DOWN, WILSON. I" she reaches a hand up to run through her hair and finds a week old piece of pepperoni stuck to the back of her glove. An irritated flick sends it back out into the room. "—Just thought I'd check up on you."

It's not entirely the truth. In's really kind of a lie. She's here for more selfish reasons than for any concern over his well-being.


It takes a long while for Wade to peel himself off Domino. He's been IDLE for a long time so seeing one of the three friends with Players kind of gets him excited. But even so he manages to slide down Domino, across the floor and over to one of he recliners he's got hidden under the filth that is this apartment.

He really should hire a maid. Or just spend more time at his other apartment with Al.

"Yeah. I'm still alive. Still can't die, y'know. Still uglier than Rick & Morty's Art Style. You know how it is."

Wade shrugs and leans back in his seat, kicking his feet up on an ottoman… that's moving. Gross.

"But! I know subtext when I hear it! Also, nobody ever checks up on me. So who do you want to hire me to kill?" He grabs his nearby Jem & The Holograms calendar and starts flipping through the pages. "I think I've got Thanksgiving Week open…"


Eugh..gross..lying on the floor of this place. Domino's been in nicer foxholes. A little dirt never bothered her. This is something a bit different from dirt.

"I would have expected you to be out there enjoying life more, given that whole 'can't die' footnote," she suggests while climbing upright and brushing herself off. "Did the gig at the Punchline not pan out?"

When he takes a seat she seems content to stand. And brush a petrified french fry out of her hair. Especially with the ottoman having a life of its own, because THAT isn't disturbing as hell…

"You know Wade," she starts in with a gentle sigh. "Sitting alone surrounded by self-pity isn't going to help you make any friends. I've tried that, too."

While he's flipping through the calendar it helps to remind Dom that -she- hasn't really had any contract work in a while, either. Working for Warren is one thing but there's never any wetwork involved. It might seem like a strange experience for someone to miss but she really does miss the wetwork.

"No contracts today. This is more of a personal request. First though, what can you tell me about your healing factor. Do you know how it works or what the extent of its abilities are?"


"Hahahahahahahahahaha! Me? Make friends? Have you read my issues? Even my own writers can barely stand me."

A Self-Pity Award falls from one of the broken shelves in the Poolcave but Wade ignores it. Instead, he's searching through the cushion of his recliner to see if he can't find the actual phone that works. Phone after stolen phone after borrowed phone after kidnappee's phone is tossed to the side.

"Here we go!" Wade holds up his own cell, this time with a Star Trek Tricorder case on it. He flips it open and starts trying to load up the Internet.

Wait. Flip Phone?!

"Sorry. This phone's still on 90s Internet so this might take a few days…"

He sets the phone down on the table while the small screen is loading up.

"I'm not exactly sure how it works. I mean, it keeps me from being with the love of my life for, y'know, eternity. So I'm pretty sure it does /something/." Wade looks up at Domino through a magnifying glass he just found in one of his pouches. "… Why?"


Y'know what, Domino's gonna let that subject lie. She's got enough of her own personal baggage to deal with, as well as growing amounts from others of late. Besides, who's she to tell anyone how to live their lives?

While he's digging around for a phone she's idly wandering toward the award which had fallen down. There's an errant "Really?" when she sees what it's for.

Then he's trying to reach the internet with a phone that looks almost as old as she is. "Ah—" comes the hesitant response before that thought also gets withheld. Times like this she has to remind herself that Wade's just gonna Wade.

So let's get back to the heart of the subject.

"Because someone I know is in a real bad way and the typical methods of regeneration appear to be failing. It's a long shot, I know," she admits with a gentle shrug, "but I told him I'd do what I could. If there's anything special which might be isolated in your blood, then ..who knows. I've made longer shots in the dark before."


"… Wait. You want to use my blood to save someone's life?"

Wade Wilson, aka Deadpool, stands right up from his recliner so fast. He spins around the room in a flurry of grabbing this and grabbing that, before the suit up sequence happens because now he's all pouched, katana'd and armed up. He's even got a stethoscope around his neck and a small nurse's hat on the top of his masked head.

"Say no more, fam." He had to slide a meme in there. "I don't know if my blood'll work but if /you're/ trying to save someone's life then they must be worth saving. Plus, you're the only friend I actually have so that makes me and Bad Way friends by mathematical extension of adjacent pi."

Wade nods with all the confidence of a technobabble master before heading towards the door like he actually knows where any of this stuff that's going on is going on.

"… Plus, if he's hot? Bonus Points!" Ah. /There's/ Wade. Thought we lost him for a sec.


Domino isn't expecting it to be so easy. Or such a rapid response. Deadpool is up, changed, ready to go, and she's still standing there going all 'bwuh?'

It's really strange to think that these two have somehow become -closer- after she shot Wade out of a window. It's even more strange to think that almost the same damn thing happened between the albino and Warren Worthington. Maybe the key to the albino's heart lies in someone taking an uncontrolled freefall?

"Ah—well. He really kind of is." Hot. "And taken." And her primary source of income over the last year or so. "He's also at a public hospital which happens to be surprisingly meta-friendly so if we could try to be a -little- less obnoxious about flashing weapons that would probably go a long way. He's high profile, someone is going to notice."

That said, looks like it's time for a roadtrip montage.


The news is having an absolute field day with Worthington Industries at the moment — its mutant head maimed of his wings, its stock in freefall, and its headquarters now damaged by a horrible plant monster of all things — and where exactly is Warren Worthington III during all this?

Not at the forefront of things calming down the media storm, that's where. Which isn't helping with investor confidence! Cameron Hodge is in full triage mode, assisted by a certain few others of the extended Worthington clan, who have come out of the woodwork to try to stanch the company around which their fortunes revolve. Slowly, people are starting to look to them instead of to the absent Warren.

The public at large doesn't really know where Warren is, but the X-Men do — sort of. He's taken root at his family estate out in Centerport, Long Island, and there's been no updates about him moving from that location ever since. He seems determined to die there, at this rate. Calls placed in his direction are taken first either by Kiff or Alison; in this instance, it's Kiff who picks up.

Kiff checks with Warren before clearing any visits. This time, when he checks on Domino's behalf, it's at least a half hour before he gets back to her with a brief affirmative that Warren's still at the estate — at the marina, specifically — if she wants to go see him. His voice does not betray anything about how much he knows.

She gets directions, which turn out to be needed, because the estate — like most others of its ilk — was designed for privacy and isolation away from the common plebs. It's outside the town of Centerport itself, far off normal roads, its expansive grounds covering most of a promontory that overlooks Long Island Sound. The place is absolutely lavish and looks like it'd be easy to get lost in, with its numerous lawns, buildings, gardens, and winding paths, but fortunately none of that has to be navigated, because it's abundantly obvious where a marina should be.

Heading down the manicured lawns towards Long Island Sound yields sight of the small private marina and its adjoining boardwalk. There's a small sailing yacht docked, which looks like it hasn't been used in quite some time. No one is on it, or near it.

There is a strange blond man sitting around aimlessly in a deck chair on the boardwalk, slumped. On closer inspection, it is revealed to be Warren, who looks completely different and diminished without the shining span of his wings.

There is a tipped-over bottle laying in the grass not far away, where Warren flung it after Alison chided him about drinking too much.


And nearby, embodying pure protestant work ethic in overdrive, Alison Blaire stations nearby, multitasking keeping an eye on Warren, and keeping an eye on multiple feeds reporting from the screen of her tablet.

She's currently managing three jobs — taking over Warren's affairs in WI, being the solitary go-to for their floundering foundation, Aegis (the recent lawsuit announced on registration has their office phones apparently off the hook,) and the Xavier Institute, which under years of Worthington management, may neglect the power bill without Alison's keen-eyed care.

She does this on about four hours of intermittent sleep, a breakfast of three cups of coffee (she hasn't had an appetite for two weeks now,) and constant pain even to sit upright, especially as it takes extra work to hide the injuries she sustained from fighting that monstrous plant, namely blackened contusions down every vertebrae of her spinal column.

And, on top of this, Warren is drunk — again — and in a mood. Alison slants him a troubled glance, wanting to say something — but doesn't.

Still, Alison refuses to leave his side, in the rare event he may ask for her — ask for something, anything, that possibly may be beneficial for him. He dominates her thoughts, even as she quietly answers emails as they fire in, one after another after another, in a constant torrential deluge.

She also knows a visit may happen, as cleared and passed down the line by Kiff. Alison remains on call for that, too.



Hanging up the phone Neena passes Wade a side glance. Maybe Kiff hasn't given her the green light for them to swing by for a visit yet but she's driving toward the city, regardless.

"Listen, Deadpool. I need you to do me a favor when we get there. The situation is pretty fucking dire and I may have made matters a -teensy- bit worse so if you could dust off your sympathy center and not do something that would result in authority figures storming the place I would -really- appreciate it. This is gonna get ugly any way you look at it."

Not only because the leader of the X-Men has had his wings clipped, either.


The bright red Ferrari which pulls into the marina looks right at home for a change of pace. If Dom's really lucky then Deadpool didn't tear apart the interior with his katanas on their way out here or something.

She has an idea of what to expect. Unlike some of the others on the team she's all too familiar with the sight of individuals who have lost pieces of themselves in the battlefield. Yet, somehow this time it's different. She's never known anyone who had their WINGS removed. Much like a bird of paradise who knew how beautiful it was with all of its plumage, having it completely stripped away leaves behind a sight so terrible that it manages to break even Neena's hardened heart.

For a moment she stands there like a shadow surrounded by so much bright, cheerful, and lavish scenery. It takes her that long simply to lock down all of her emotions. Only once she feels ready to proceed does she glance back to Wade and motion him over with a slight twitch of the head.

It almost doesn't matter how she starts this conversation. She isn't expecting it to go over well.

"'Cunt,' huh," she gently speaks up. "Haven't been called that in a while." Not that she's going to debate over whether it had been deserved or not, because it was. She had opened the door wide open to such a level of response. There is no room for her to complain about the consequences.

"I understand if you don't want to see me, but..I feel that I owe you something more than a fulfilled promise."

Business, then. Of course it'd be centered around business. Without it would the albino ever have anything to talk about? Maybe that's one of the many roles all of her sarcasm plays. It gives her an excuse to communicate with others.

"I was out of line the other night." She pauses here, either to let the words sink in or to gear everyone up for what is reluctant to follow.

"I'm sorry."

A reason or an excuse for her callous behavior over the comms two days ago could follow the apology but what ends up following is nothing at all. What's the point? The damage had been done. Either he'll accept her apology or he won't.

An arm is held out toward the other mercenary. "Warren, Deadpool. Deadpool, Warren. When I asked about his healing factor he jumped at the chance to help a friend in need. Never got around to asking for specifics."



There's probably quite a few of those attempted hits sent in Domino's direction during the EN ROUTE sequence. It's really more of a game that he's playing with himself considering that LUCK normally plays a factor in this that makes him say "OW!" way more often than he should be. He's the one finding the Punch Buggies and doing the punching. WHY IS HE THE ONE BEING HURT.

Cue the Fast Forward!
Fast Forwarding!

Deadpool hops out of the Ferrari with a little Dukes of Hazzard style and then jumps at the chance to slide across the hood. Which does two things. It looks super cool in slow motion but also those katana handles are all with the scratchy-scratchy of the paint. To which Deadpool pays no attention. His scooter looks better anyway.

"Sympathy? Pfft. No problem. Check this out." Wade goes into one of his larger pouches and comes out with a Happy Birthday Card which has clearly been Crayoned over to read: DON'T DIE SOON - Luv, Deadpool!. "Am I good at this sympathy shit or what, huh?"

Deadpool's smiling under that mask and proceed to skip along after Domino because she's the one leading the way. He may or may not be grabbing random things and objects like a klepto and pouching them along their way. Because what're the chances he'll be in one of these expensive facilities ever again? This is like a once in a Lifetime Movie experience.

"HELLLLLLLLOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO PERSON THAT'S DYING! As my Hetero Life Mate, Domino, has so eloquently put it, I am the one they call Deadpool! I'm pretty much your only hope at like, y'know, survival. So here I am! Ready to do the hero thing! Save my fellow man! Or…" Deadpool looks over at Domino and mouths 'Mutant?' because he's just trying to make sure that he's talking to a mutant.

Wade holds up a finger, "Also, McSuperHottie? I've noticed you as well but I've got bigger problems right now! Like saving this SUPER RICH DUDE's life. So if you're going to hit on me, you're going to need to wait until after he owes me his life. Kay? Kay!"

Initiate Dramatic Heroic Pose #25: SUPERMAN HIPS.


Warren doesn't really react to anything that happens behind him at first. When he finally does, it's to say,

"Fuck… off."

Good start.

He isn't done, either. His voice is audibly blurred from alcohol, it's probably taking a while for thoughts to finish. "Fuck… OFF with that bullshit. Don't… fucking… tell me you're sorry. Just don't be a fucking…"

Warren searches the sky, as if it would remind him of the word. When he finds it, he points in no particular direction.


He struggles a moment to get up, thrown off both by alcohol and the absence of his wings, before reaching automatically in Ali's direction for assistance. He 100% doesn't know that she's injured that badly, because he would have forced his own blood on her if he did. Once he's upright, he finally turns to face Domino and Deadpool. Even in his condition, he is beautiful in the way a ruined classical statue is beautiful. It'll take longer of this self-destructiveness to make him lose his beauty than a normal person.

Not that he has anything pretty to say. Especially not when Deadpool mouths 'mutant' at Domino, which Warren can clearly see, and which sits squarely in the category of things to say 'way too fucking soon.'

"I know enough about Deadpool," Warren says, which is probably the only reason said Deadpool has not already been sent packing after that classic Deadpool intro. "So whatever you mean to do, let's have it."


Neither does Alison react all that outwardly to the arrival. Internally, however, she's probably girding down. The only tell is the way she turns her tablet off — emails are now a low priority — and carefully stows it on her own chair, certain what's to come will merit all of her time and attention.

Carefully rising — Jesus, her back hurts — to her full height, dressed in some pantsuit like she hasn't changed from an overnight at the office, Alison turns to slant both Neena and Wade an equal look, a press to her mouth that is frighteningly reminiscent of Scott Summers's more disapproving frowns.

Stepping closer to Warren's spot, she holds a clear physical stand-by (perhaps not certain to let either too close,) but says nothing through Neena's first words. They're meant for Warren, and it's his place to answer.

And he does.

Maybe someone with more social acumen to step in when he's clearly soused — and clearly angry — to smooth the communication lines down, or mitigate some of his nastier words. Alison does none of those things. It's his house; he gets to say what he wants, and an injured Warren gets full permission to everything by Alison.

When he reaches for her, she's immediately attentive, practiced enough to hide a wince of her own as she helps steady him to his feet, keeping a hand lingering at Warren's upper arm. "Listen —" she finally begins to interject —

And Wade speaks.

Alison just stares at him. She'd probably be more incredulous on a bit more sleep; as it stands, she looks only like she's minimally suffering, checking a flinch in her temper, then just… pinching the bridge of her nose at 'McSuperHottie.'

She can't even reward 'hitting on him' with a response. "First off, we're going to clear what you want to happen before we attempt it. Second —" Alison's eyes turn, losing (or gaining?!) McSuperHottie points with a warning crook of her mouth. "Deadpool, you're going to put all that back before you leave, or your friend is going to be your seeing eye dog on the way out."


Maybe it's karma's doing that left those -giant fucking scratches- across the hood of her car. Domino will shoot Deadpool a little over that later.

Right now she has other damage to try to control, which in very short order promises that she will in fact shoot Deadpool a LOT over sooner than later. At the sudden and LOUD call Neena gets the Most Pained Expression Ever and drops her face into an open palm with a soft *thap*. "Dial that way..way..waaaaay back, Wilson…"

It's a simple request from Warren, if not worded in a most un-Warren-like way. He hadn't been looking for sympathy before. It seems this much hasn't changed after the excessive application of alcohol. 'Just don't be a cunt.' Sure. Okay. That's as good a starting point as any.

Though holy hell is this not a good look for Warren. It's one thing to lose the wings and all but everything -else- that he lost..? That's all on him. He's in a serious downward spiral. The sort that the only way to even begin to try to correct it might involve some amount of physical coercion.

Just in case things weren't bad enough Neena finally gets a good look at Alison as she hurries over to Warren's side. Dom had no idea how badly Ali had been injured the other day… Where the albino had showm up fully prepared for the verbal abuse from Warren she hadn't been remotely prepared to get bitchslapped by reality a second time. She had been -poking fun at Alison's predicament- the other day and it looks like what had happened nearly killed the other lady.

This is so not another Meeting of the Mercs. The social cues she's most familiar with are almost completely absent (though curiously not all of them thanks to Warren's drunken state of anger and profanity. That's way more familiar.)

Is it too late..? For Warren, for Neena to salvage what uneasy friendship they had once had? Also, why did this ever seem like a good idea? Even a little teeny tiny bit?

"Y'know what, this was a mistake. I'm sorry." It's bad enough to merit a second apology from her, and in the same minute! Neena spins about on a heel and moves to grab Deadpool by the bicep. "C'mon, Wade. We're leaving."

If it isn't too late yet then any prolonged exposure to this encounter will guarantee such a finality.


"Soooooooooo no souvenirs? Not even this thing?" Wade goes into his pouch and comes out with one of those priceless knick-knacks that he could've gotten a pretty penny for on that PBS Auction Show or something on HGTV. But NO! NOOOOOOOOOO! Not allowed to klepto anything at all. "Such ungracious hosts." He Luke Skywalkers the thing over his shoulder and shrugs. "I like 'em rude. Mrowr."

What in the holy shitballs.

Wade proceeds to move over to something a lot more soft and empties out the rest of his stolen goods in clear view of the Alison. All to make sure that he's putting back the things he took. He empties one pouch too many and out drops his 'Dazzle Me Badd' Mixtape. It's… yeah. It's probably what you think it is. Or worse, knowing Deadpool.

Hold on a second. Uploading Daniel Stern voice impression…


"NEVAH!" Deadpool holds a finger up to the ceiling, sky, whatever's above. They're in a giant birdcage, right? Whatever. "As the unofficial officially useless mutant that just may be useful for once, I refuse to leave! Especially since we just got here!" Wade slides over to Domino and mutters, "… plus she hasn't signed the mixtape I 'accidentally' dropped over there yet. AHEM." He didn't lower his voice at all there. Oy vey.

Wade's back over towards the Warrison so fast and he's holding up his hands. Yes, he's armed to the teeth but he's trying to not look as threatening as stupid as he sounds. He goes full on Jurassic World Chris Pratt right here with the way he's got his hands out. "Easy there. Easy Drunk Fellah." He's got the Steve Irwin voice going and everything now. "I ain't gonna' hurtcha'. Crikey, I jus' wonna' halpya', mate." Wade coughs his way out of that horrible typed accenture. "Ugh. Accents. Gross." Shudder.

"If I could be Yahoo Serious for a moment. I honestly have no idea what I'm doing here, why you hate my best frenemy but all I know is that I got bloody healing blood and I came here to DONATE it to the cause! Free of charge! No strings! Okay, maybe just once around the pool in Baldy's chair. But that can happen after we're all friends again. I can wait. I'm a patient man. II'm still waiting on someone to app my girlfriend." Dismissive hand wave! "Nevermind all that. Do you guys want some vials of blood or not? I just want to help. And dance all night. But mostly help."


At the least, Warren doesn't seem personally invested in the various items that Deadpool is being forced to disgorge from the depths of his Bag of Holding +2 right now. They're probably things that he doesn't even quite know the purpose or history of, but which have simply been sitting around the grounds forever… fixtures of his youth which he never particularly noticed until now.

He also isn't really surprised about the mixtape deal, because that happens to Ali all the time.

What DID annoy him was the 'mutant?' thing, question mark and all, and he's certainly looking aggressive enough to merit Deadpool falling back on tried and true methods to calm a savage raptor. Maybe the Chris Pratt Jurassic World analogy is more apt than one might at first think. If Warren still had his wings right now, they'd certainly be spread and hackled out to full angry span, every feather puffed in outraged threat.

He doesn't, so mostly what he does is sway slightly where he stands, and glare balefully at Deadpool, which is… close enough.

The only thing that seems to break through his angry haze is the insinuation that they're about to just leave (well — that Neena wants to leave. Wade seems more invested in doing what he came here to do, by God!). Warren — laughs abruptly, staggering back a step and throwing out an arm in gesture to dismiss the very idea. "You came all the way here," he says. "And what the hell. I'm desperate enough for anything."

He leans heavily on Alison. "Decant a few vials. If it works, you can HAVE the goddamned pool."


So no souvenirs?

"No," replies Alison, in a tone as flat as level drywall.

Not even this thing?

"No," says Alison again, with great patience.

Even though Warren may not care a few things lost among his billions, Alison doesn't want to chance any precious heirlooms — it's all he needs — and oversees Deadpool's emptied pockets with a surveyor's frown. Then the mixtape accidentally on purpose falls out. She notices it.

It's definitely not the first one she's been offered in her life. It's best left with her rolling her eyes briefly to the skies, woe-be-gone, taking pains to pretend it never happened.

Somewhere in all that, however, Alison does slant Neena a look that could strip the paint off a car.

However, she says nothing, perhaps assuaged when Wade does his kleptomania due diligence, making her own pains to parse WadeSpeak and get to the heart of it — namely, his promise to help with some of his own healing blood. Alison, forever hopeful during Warren's time in the hospital, is privately skeptical: Warren's own healing factor couldn't fix this (though she wanted so badly to believe,) so how could this?

But Warren's desperate, and she doesn't dare say a word otherwise.

There is pain when Warren leans on her, but she doesn't show it, happy enough that he's this receptive — it's a relief from his catatonic bouts of nothingness. Alison considers all of this, still guarded, still unsure, and asks: "The blood's clean, though, Deadpool? It's not like we know where you've been." Or want to know.


Ooohboy, it looks like they're going to be here for a while… While Wade's emptying his pockets of stolen trinkets Neena's hanging back with face lightly shielded by a hand and an arm pinned around her ribs, muttering "This is fucked up."

At Wade's resolute refusal to leave, she's adding "I never should have left Africa."

Alongside the Steve Irwin impression comes another low-key remark. "Next time: ICER."

Then once again as Deadpool finally gets to the matter of his blood, lilting "We are so getting flashbanged."

Surprisingly enough, Warren seems to encourage them to -stay!- now that the highly questionable cat is out of the bag. Sure, why not! As strange as it is this encounter shares a lot in common with Dom's typical style of 'throw everything into one giant turmoil and wait for the dust to settle.' Who knows, maybe something useful might -possibly- emerge from this trainwreck.

As the two get into the heart of the matter Neena passes Alison an apologetic look. It's the least she could do. For the immediate moment, anyway. Once this has all settled over it might be a good idea to have a one on one with the other X-Woman because Alison is due a proper apology as well, and she may be more receptive to it. If Neena manages to survive long enough to offer one. The look which she's now getting back from Dazzler is a proper world-class glare.

Finally speaking up on behalf of the idea of using Deadpool's own healing factor, Neena's hand makes an upturned 'shrug' then drops back to her side. She's sounding rather defeated while explaining in her own words "I said I'd get some of his blood to see if there was any chance of it being helpful. Yes it's a long shot but that's what I do." However she has no idea if it's 'clean.' It's full of healing factory goodness, wouldn't that mean that it's clean by default? Could you have 'dirty' healing blood? She never considered the idea.


"Gorrammit, Jim, I'm not a doctor! I don't even have a TARDIS."

Deadpool barely even knows what he's saying so he goes with the most overdramatic shrug that could be the cover of this issue with his blood in one hand and Warren's life in the other. It'd be pretty cool if we got a cool artist to do the art. Who knows. But! What dreams may come are usually wet nightmares when Wade Wilson is involved.

"Here's the skinny, Shallow Al." See what he did there? "I got like fifty forms of cancer. But then Weapon X made me super immortal. So I guess that makes my blood both cancerous and immortal? Which is weird and I have no idea how it works. You may wanna' get the Catmanblu do like isolate the genetic sequence through which my healio dealio works and like separate that from the parts that're supposed to be killing me but can't. And then maybe if Buffalo Wild Wingless over here has his own Mr. Fix It stuffs… maybe it'll work?"

Deadpool moves to lean against the wall because he just tried to figure out the worst thing ever. SCIENCE. Ugh. Learning is lame. Unless his daughter's doing it. Or he's spending time with Spider-Man.


"Or maybe it does nothing but make you as handsome as I am. Which, I gotta' say, might be better than LARPing Angry Birds. Just saying."

Wade looks as forlorn as he can with a mask on, sighing dramatically at everyone. At Warren. At Alison. At Neena. SIGH, OKAY! "Now. If only we had a some vials to put my blood in. A sharpie for NO SPECIFIC REASON AT ALL." At that Wade stretches his arms out and just kind of POINTS at the Dazzle Me Badd Mixtape's… general direction. Kind of. He's really just stretching, honest. "And maybe a crapton of mutated LUCK… we might actually be able to pull this nonsense off. I should know. Nonsense is my roommate's dog's brother's cousin's first period teacher's grandfather's middle name. Uncanny!"


The blood's clean, though? Alison asks.

"I can handle it," Warren mumbles, leaning against Alison, not really looking in the shape to be handling much of anything.

He looks absolutely wrecked, to be honest. This burst of activity/excitement was probably a little much for him.

He has correspondingly little to say about the science of it all (or the Deadpool version of science, at least). He seems focused solely on this long shot of a chance, and whether it might work. "There's all that up at the house," he says, of vials and sharpies(?). "You drop it off, we get somebody to look at it, and then…"

He's already walking unsteadily off in the vague direction of the manor house, toiling up a steep hill that would have been no problem for him back in his winged days. "We'll see."


The ex-Dazzler is still ignoring the existence of that poor mixtape. Her secondary mutant power has always been her supernatural selective focus.

She does, however, humour Wade Wilson enough to listen to his explanation, taking in the minutiae about his healing factor with a slightly-furrowed blood. Truth be told, she's skeptical, and she really hates that she is — still loath of herself and the idea that Cameron Hodge may be the reason Warren still takes breath. She thought Warren's blood was a small miracle on its own, and it couldn't even fix him… how is another healing factor going to succeed when his failed?

But she keeps this to herself, for Warren's sake… while silently girding herself for two possibilities. If this works, Alison has a veritable miracle to thank. If it doesn't, it's going to set Warren back even more. To have hope, and have it ripped away…

"Fine," she says quietly, to the whole idea, at least agreeing with the logic that the team can look at the blood before someone does something reckless.

Warren says he can handle it, and Alison doesn't answer, though her hand squeezes his arm.

Then he's walking back to the manor, and takes Alison's focus with him, as she strides to keep pace, a hand on him to offer balance and assistance, ever-ready and over-attentive.


Domino can't leave yet. She can't really stay put, either. While Deadpool is Doing His Thing she silently holds up one finger then walks away, heading ..somewhere else. She's just as silent in her return before Wade finishes the grand sales pitch to the others. Where she had left empty-handed she has returned with a bottle of something decidedly strong, popping off the top with the clear intention of drinking right from the bottle.

Maybe it came from the car? Maybe from Warren's property..? Either way the man had the right idea of getting shit-faced before these two showed up. It all makes sense now!

Now it would appear that they have the go-ahead from Warren to tap a vein or two, resulting in a subtle sigh of relief from the pale lady. Actual, honest progress, and a strong hint that they're just about finished here. "All options on the table," is said softly but in a sing-song manner of voice as she turns toward the manor to follow Warren and Alison inside.

Not that she lets Wade out of her peripheral. She's reckless, not stupid.


"Well. Alrighty then. Let's rock."

Wade Winston Wilson brings up the rear of everyone else since this is a journey towards the house. They might as well be heading to the Emerald City. Or on the Underground Railroad. Something! It's going to be a journey that knows no bounds! And then he will lose some blood. Probably a lot of it. Which kind of happens on a regular basis anyway.


That would be Deadpool running and leaping at Domino's back with a pointing finger towards… wherever the heck they are going for the blood extraction.

"… I hope your rich ass has lollipops! Cuz I've earned them! Just saying!"

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