Deadpooled ;) PART 4 OF 8

You’re probably wondering, how does a rock and roll man like myself find time to remain sane in body and mind. The answer is references; sweet unadulterated pop culture and niche references.

People who have spent more than a fleeting moment with me shall attest to this. It’s funny to watch them look baffled by the three jumps ahead quotes that land with a look of half confusion and disappointment. This has been a familiar look; since birth really…

Anyway! I digress.

So I’m hanging from the gargoyle and my arms are starting to burn with all the swinging – of both punches and from stonework – so I try to find a more comfortable position. I manage to swing my foot onto the ledge to the side of me, then pathetically reaching with the other and throwing myself into the wall. We embrace for a second; sweet, loving wall. Then I fell on my face.

I looked up, disorientated, to find myself in some kind of lab. There was a short figure stood in the shadows, busying around with several jars and beakers. It turned and walked towards me and I was under the impression it was about the acknowledge me but it simply stepped over my head and continued to the other side of the room where it started playing with a very knobby device that was humming and whirring quietly to itself.

“It seems we have an unexpected guest,” said a voice. It did not belong to the being by the angry audible apparatus, but came from somewhere above. It was low and smokey, almost sultry but with a hint of an accent; it sent shivers down my already frosty spine. I tried to turn my head to inspect who’s this voice might be but I was somehow glued to the spot (maybe the machine was some kind of audio-vibratory-physio-molecular transport device?). The voice continued,,,

“What have we here? Little spy man was meant to die from the Legionetta Virus.”

I swung up like a feather in the breeze, frozen in the murder victim pose and not enjoying the lack of control to the situation. I was, however, now face to face with the exotic voiced person. She was breath taking-ly beautiful, like Kate Beckinsale with a hit of Amy MacDonald. She wore a gothic red dress with velvet gloves, though it was a very modern take; I believe it’s called a mullet dress. What? Don’t look at me like that! Guys can be interested in fashion too! Just don’t get it for a wedding dress, unless you’re marrying Axel.

“What are you doing here, little spy man?” She asked, running her nail under my chin. There was a dark red tinge to her iris and her purple lipstick had flecks of rouge as well. I was brought back from my daydream by a slap across the face. “I said what are you doing here?” I chuckled as she returned the ability to breath, thus speak; she had done that on purpose! I craned my neck forward and whispered with a cheeky grin and a wink…

“I’m gonna let you into a secret. I shouldn’t really be here.”


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