2013-01-26 I bet Denny's Would've Served a White Widow

The Red Skull sits at the booth with his elbows on the table, hands steepled before him. A coffee mug sits there, half-empty. A frumpy waitress in a faded uniform and with mascara mixed with tears running down her face  is trying to fill the mug, but her hands are shaking violently. Crossbones stands behind her, leaning against the restaurant's counter. A number of other hard-bitten mercenaries and Hydra agents in mufti float around the restaurant and parking lot area. "It's okay..." the Skull looks at her name tag, "...Suzanne. Just do your job and everything will be okay." She sniffles, "Guh-guh-guh-yes sir." In the supreme example of will power her life will ever manifest, Suzanne puts the pile of corpses in the freezer out of her mind and steadies her hand, pouring. She doesn't spill a drop. "Thank you. Now please check on my Grand Slam breakfast, if you would be so kind."
"Skull! Que paso, hombre?" Deadpool saunters into the Denny's like he own's the place. Considering he parked a SHIELD battle tank on top of one of the spare humvees a few seconds ago, it might be slightly justifed. He turns and clicks a key fob at the tank, which chirrups and flashes its lights once.
"Make that two of the Slams, sweetheart!" he calls to the waitress. A HYDRA agent tries to get in Deadpool's way, pushing an arm against the merc's chest. He has a broken arm and a knife in his foot a moment later, squealing and flopping on the ground like a fish. Deadpool produces a pair of huge, automatic pistols faster than most people can blink. "Yo, Skull, tell your boys to back off 'fore I pump 'em full of lead!" 
Who says that anymore? Is that... is that like a De Neiro thing? I haven't heard that line since Dirty Harry.
The Red Skull leans back and waves a hand in the manner of British royalty. Guns are dropped and the men back off, two of them helping the idiot with the floppy arm and the foot pinned to the floor. Crossbones hasn't moved from his counter lean. "You can put those away and sit down. If you have what you told me you have, then there's nothing to fear. We're businessmen, yes?" He takes a spoon and stirs some sugar into the mug. "Of course if you do not have what you told me you have, then we enter a completely different sphere of business. Regular or Decaf?"
Outside, the Skull's men are waving little metal wands around the tank while a group of yellow beekeepers set up camouflage netting around the business. From outside, it looks like a decrepit, closed-down roadside Denny's complete with empty parking lot and boarded up windows.
"Quad shot in the dark, double strong with a half a cup of Bailey's," Deadpool says, flopping bonelessly into the seat across from Skull. "Or Jim Bean, if that's all you got. Or just Jim Bean." He drops his TMPs onto the table with a clatter and kicks one leg up onto the bench next to him, draping his other arm across the seatback. "I like this for a meeting spot. Good food, easy access, reasonable prices. I could get use to meeting like this." He slurps on a cup of water, tucking his mask up just above his mouth. "So, I've got six duffel bags full of a bunch of HYDRA stuff that SHIELD looks like they stole from ya," Deadpool says, pointing his thumb at the tank outside. "And I've got this hot redheaded chick called The Widow trussed up like a Christmas Hawg. And I'm wondering what kind of deal we can cut?"
The Red Skull watches Deadpool do his schtick. He looks over at Crossbones, who sighs and then tosses a hip flask of brown liquor Wade's way. "It so happens that meeting here takes care of two birds with one stick of dynamite. I so glad you approve." It's very hard to tell if the Skull is being sarcastic. His voice at the moment is dead flat. His eyes, well they glitter. They always glitter. Suzanne takes this moment to place the two breakfast plates in front of the 'customers', along with a variety of corn syrup based condiments. "If you will let my technician look at the material in the bags and if you will allow Crossbones to retrieve your prisoner so that I may verify her identity then the question is what kind of deal do you want?" He adds a few pats of butter to his pancakes and pours syrup over them before cutting a piece and eating it.
"I will not, and he cannot, and I do not want them, Sam I Am." Deadpool pours half a bottle of syrup onto his grand slam, eggs, bacon and all. "I'm no scrub, Skull, you know that. I got all the goods wired to a pound of semtex and I've got the key in my pocket. Here." He fishes in a pocket, then slaps a picture of Natasha Romanov, the famous Black Widow, onto the table. It's dated for an hour prior, and the agent is bound, gagged, and unconcious. Next to her is a pile of HYDRA weaponry recently stolen from a facility by SHIELD, glowing with energy. "See? Would my cell phone lie? I can't even figure out how to get Facebook working." He peers at his phone, fiddling. "Hey, can I add you on Facebook? I think we should be Facebook buddies."
Skull puts down his skinny knife and fork and slides the picture towards him. Then he slides it back. "I am humoring you because I have been told that despite your mental condition you are quite formidable at what you do. But clearly if you think I am going to try to cheat you out of payment and risk losing this material and Ms Romanoff you are an idiot. I have as much money as I need. As I want. This deal is penny-ante." He picks up his silverware and cuts another bite. "And if you know anything about me, you should know that I would blow up my data, the weapons and the Black Widow myself before I allow you to strong-arm me. I give you this one pass for the insult. So, this is your option, Herr Deadpool. You name a price right now, and you give me the material and the girl--minus the explosives--and I give you payment and everyone leaves here satisfied." Suzanne stands a few feet away, shaking and gauging when to swoop in with a refill. So maybe she's not satisfied. "Leaving us the opportunity for yet more profitable business agreements in the future. The other option involves strapping you to a table and injecting your skull and internal organs with a continuous feed of hydrochloric acid and watching your vaunted healing factor at work. 24/7. 365 days a year. From now until the end of the century. What shall it be?"
Deadpool sighs expressively and rolls his eyebrows to the sky. He lifts a hand out of his lap and clunks a heavy grenade onto the table, and with a flick of his thumb, pops the pin. "Well, we can find out if you can take a Mark IV frag grenade to the face, if we're just exchanging threats and stuff," he suggests to Skull. The merc rolls a shoulder at the agent of HYDRA. "Look, Skull, I may be stupid, but I'm not stupid. I mean. Agent Romanov? Darling of SHIELD? The ransom alone would be worth it. Let alone, y'know. She's hot as hell. I'm not looking for /contract/ work, Skull, I want some /wage/. Y'know. Deadpool, Agent of HYDRA!" he says, painting a picture with his hand. "Let me be part of the team! I have my own ride and everything! It's all pimp! Let me be a pimp HYDRA guy! We'll talk terms, and I'll deliver Romanov and-" he squints. "What's a 'feuerwerfer'? I've got like ten of those and I don't know how expensive they run, but SHIELD was /pissed/ I stole them off the helicarrier."
Universe A:
The Red Skull smiles. And Crossbones still looks quite relaxed. "Are you asking if the Red Skull is afraid of a grenade? Really?" He sighs and puts the fork back down on the table. "A pity. I thought we could do this the easy way." When the Red Skull flings the skinny knife that is lethally sharp at Deadpool's eye, he does it with the speed and precision of Captain America. When he continues his motion upwards into overturning the table over in an attempt to crush Deadpool with it and the grenade in between, it is with the speed and strength of Captain America. The irony of this fact never ceases to excite him. "Blow it!" he hisses, then bellows, "BLOW IT ALL UP!"
What his command translates into: outside, his tech boys begin hammering the tank with an array of energy tools, heedless of any reaction it might cause, while inside his men begin shooting where Deadpool was sitting. And Crossbones finally moves, yanking a .50 caliber chain gun our from behind the counter in a blur and joining in on swiss-cheesing the merc.
Universe B (Sadly, our universe):
The Red Skull smiles as the grenade is placed between them, and Crossbones still looks quite relaxed in his slouch. Herr Shmidt leans forward. "Are you asking if the Red Skull is afraid of a grenade? Really?" He sighs and puts the fork back down on the table. "Do you have any idea what it was like on the fields of battle in Europe facing men like Captain America, Nick Fury and his Howling Commandos? Do you have any idea how many bullets I had removed, how much shrapnel pick out, how many burns salved on a regular basis? Without the benefit of your healing, may I add. I realize that I am mostly known these days from the History Channel, but I would think a man professing to be a professional such as yourself might do the slightest bit of research. I do not suffer threats, and the next one you make I will call. I will call it, and I will blow this entire establishment up if I have to. And I will do as I always do, which is to survive." And then Wade Wilson is gifted with something only perhaps one other living persona has heard... genuine laughter from the Red Skull. Crossbones looks stunned.
"Bless you, Mr. Wilson. They very thought that you could believe explosives in a Denny's would threaten my survival. Ah, it is said laughter does the sould good. I agree." He snaps his finger. Two men carrying a large satchel strain and drop it on the table, cracking it. Inside, gold bullion. A lot of it. "How does this strike you, Deadpool?"
"Well, y'know. I was gonna see if you could swallow it or what." Deadpool replaces the pin and settles the grenade on his chest. He eyes the satchel that's delivered. "Uh. Wow. Well, ok, I guess that'll work." He leans comically aside to Skull. "What's the going rate for a chimichanga in gold pieces? Am I now worth ten thousand chimichangas?" he asides to the infamous super-soldier. 
Deadpool gets to his feet and stretches. "Aighty, Red Skullmeister, you've got yourself a deal! Bring around the truck and I'll toss our widdle Agent and the goods inside." He hoists the trunk up onto his shoulder with a small grunt of effort. "So, like, are you hiring, though? I mean, HYDRA's all kinds of cool. SHIELD won't give me /any/ guns. I even asked nicely before I stole them!"
More relaxed now, the Skull nods to the question asked. "I don't really know what chimichangas are. Is it a Mexican worker of some sort? If so I think ten thousand might be low." Was that a joke? Another wave of the hand and Crossbones barks into a walkie-talkie. Outside a Hydra vehicle is hovering it's way over to the SHIELD tank. "I am always on the look out for men skilled in violence with the requisite will to carry it out. Let me think." He taps his chin. "Yes, I believe I might have something for you. I have need of some things to be stolen, and yet other things to be blown up. And probably a few people to be terminated. And we have many, many guns, you'll be happy to know. Unlike SHIELD, human rights concerns don't factor into our design considerations. How can we get in touch with you?
Deadpool drops a business card on the table. "Well, y'know, Facebook works, but I guess if you want to /call/ me," he mutters. The card reads Wong's Delivery, except a pencil has scratched out Wong's Delivery and written DEADPOOL on it. Underneath is 1800DEADPOOL. 
"And I am /all about/ abrogation of human rights, bossman," Deadpool quips, heading for the door. "But I def need to, y'know, re-man, re-arm. I'm down to my last rocket launcher. You got the hookup?" he asks. "I mean, I'll do my first gig gratis if you can get me some sweet, sweet boombooms."
The Red Skull studies the card. "Your phone number is twelve digits. Never mind." He slips it into his jacket pocket. Outside the bound figure of the Black Widow is loaded into the Hydra vehicle, along with the SHIELD armaments. "I have an item I need stolen from a SHIELD base. It's heavily guarded. I want it, and I want as much physical and human damage done as possible. I want a statement made. I will arm you, and if you succeed you will be paid on top of that. We have extensive information on the base including schematics, and we have operatives inside who will disable security to the extent possible. It is your choice whether you go in alone or engage the services of other mercenaries. We will contact you tomorrow with the details and then again two days later to find our your requirements. And now you must excuse me. I have an opera to catch, and I hate to be late."
Skull watches Deadpool walk away through the window. He motions Crossbones over. "We just gonna let him get away with that, Boss?" The Skull chuckles. "Brock, you know me better than that. We will use him to get what we want and then we will either hang him out to dry or I will kill him myself. Which reminds me. Take Suzanne back to the freezer and let's get the hell out of this place. I feel filthy just sitting here. And set the explosives.
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