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12 Hours Prior

"That's wiggidy, wiggidy whack, yo."

"Wade... what now?"

Wade Wilson, AKA Deadpool, flopped down into his folding chair. His head hung low as he rested his elbows on his knees. Exhaling a hard, pouting breath, Wade's eyes rose to meet his handler's keeping his head down to provide the typical "puppy dog" look.

"I just don't see why it has to be tonight. Wicked? REALLY? Something like Cats would be a much better backdrop. Nothing is more blood thirsty than a catman. I'm pretty sure that's how Sabertooth started out..."

"Jesus Christ, Wade." His handler sighed, bringing his thumb and forefinger to his eyebrow, rubbing his eyes from underneath his glasses. "It's tonight because that's when and where Senator Rodgers will be. Just... be smooth on this one, okay?"

Deadpool brought his head up, along with a grin.

"I'm like Diet Dr. Pepper Cherry! Amazingly smooth!"

Present

It had been easy enough for Deadpool to enter the theatre. Teleportation devices made alot of things easy enough when you really thought about it. It was staying incognito that was the hard part for one Wade Wilson. Despite all boyish charm and rugged good looks, it was sometimes hard to fit in. Genius stood apart from peasants. Where exactly he fitted into that spectrum, Wade didn't know. Before he even finished that thought he was onto more important thoughts. Like, if he got a rainbow tattoo on his stomach, would he be able to shoot light blasts out of it like the Carebears? Important stuff. Better yet, did Cyclops already beat him to that? That sneaky little fox.

Deadpool sat cross legged atop one of the rafters, placed above the right side balcony of the theatre. He hadn't been paying attention when they came in, but Deadpool's eyes dropped down as he watched a group of a half dozen people take their seats. There was Rodgers, and a lady that looked like she could be his daughter, so he assumed it was the wife. Wade didn't particularly care about the other two couples. They looked even older than Senator Rodgers, so he figured they wouldn't be going anywhere in a hurry.

Silently dropping down behind the seats, Deadpool removed a silver Colt .45 from his left shoulder holster, placing it in his right hand. He took a few steps forward, placing the gun to the back left of Senator Rodgers' skull and cocking back the hammer with a click.

"In the words of the assassination entrepreneur, John Wilkes Booth, 'Hasta la vista'..."

As the beads of sweat ran down the Senator's balding head, others in his party began to drop their jaws in shock, freezing in the moment. Deadpool, on the other hand, shot his eyes upwards, furrowing his brow in confusion.

"Wait, that's not right." Wade muttered, removing the gun from the man's head and scratching his chin with the barrel as he thought. Bringing his left hand up to his ear piece, Deadpool spoke on the closed radio channel.

"Bravo team, I need backup. Did the Governator kill Abraham Lincoln?"

Second Class Petty Officer Joshua Reichenbach was a new addition to the Hyperion team. Former. Second. Class. Petty. Officer. That still stung a little bit. Oh well, life goes on, there were still dangerous people to dispose of, and he was a good garbage disposal man. Of Death. Now, as though they were trying to break in the new meat, as though they found it funny, a good joke, he was being sent on a mission with a man he was informed so kindly was a whack job. Apparently the last assassin who worked with the man either had shot Wade or confessed to one of the psychologists at home base that he'd wanted to.

The details were hazy and irrelevant to the mission. What he did know was that Wade Wilson seemed to have no concept of "subtle". He didn't even get to meet the man to his face before they were given a comm link and he found his way up into the supports for the lighting system. He had a backpack with a suit jacket and tie to put over his more practical tactical gear during an escape, though he figured, if nothing else, Deadpool could serve as a distraction. Not it was time to get comfortable and pick out his target, scanning the rows. Almost as soon as he'd found the Senator, getting comfortable with the stock fitting him like a glove, Wade showed up, jovially delivering his one-liner.

"Bravo team, I need backup. Did the Governator kill Abraham Lincoln?"

Goody. His partner for this mission had the sense of subtlety of a Rhinocerous and attention span of a gerbil. Did his employers want someone like this nutcase working for them? Josh wondered vaguely if the company got some kind of a bonus for paying a nutcase to be on their team - equal opportunity shady employment. And who said he didn't have a sense of humor? The worst part was that he wasn't sure whether or not Deadpool was joking. His antics were... strange. Josh brought his hand to his ear to reply curtly,

"No. And the phrase you are looking for is Sic Semper Tyrannis. Watch your nuts."

Placing his eye to the sight, Joshua pulled a Grassy Knoll Shooter to Deadpool's Booth, or Oswald in this case. He squeezed the trigger on his black M-25, aiming for a quick, clean kill so that people could get back to enjoying Wicked. There were teenagers present, and they were angsty enough without noticing someone get shot. With an attempt at finesse, he tried to make sure the bullet slowed so that it wouldn't go all the way through the Senator's head. The amateur bullet-trepanning would cure the Senator's paranoid delusions about mutants being out to get him - permanently.

The media would chalk it up to mutant terrorists, and he was okay with that. As long as he could go home and the American people (sans Mr. Rodgers) were safe for the night, he was happy. Mutant Americans were Americans too, after all. With the deed done, he levitated his gun next to him, waiting for any fuss to start up, and touched his comm headset gingerly,

"Didn't get the family jewels, did I? We should get out of here before it gets hot, Alpha."

[Poke if it needs revised at all.]

(OOC: Wow. Definately put the wrong name at the description.)

"Ah, right. Thanks B."

Deadpool lowered his hand from his earpiece as he finished speaking. Removing his gun from his chin he placed it back at the head of Senator Rodgers once more, this time at the left temple since the old fart thought it necessary to look his killer in the eye. Never make eye contact!

"Sick tempered tyrannosaurus!"

Before Wade managed to pull the trigger, Rodgers' brains exploded towards him. Accompanying the blood and pieces of brain matter was a M-25 bullet, lodging itself into Deadpool's left hip, just aside the pelvis. Wade felt the impact the impact, but said nothing at first. Ignoring the blood curling screams of the other five on the balcony, Wade's head dropped to look downwards at the wounds entrance way.

"B! I've been shot!" Deadpool shouted bringing out his matching handgun and pointing them out towards the stage.

"I think it was the witch! I hate magic!"

Deadpool leapt atop the balcony edge, opening fire on the stage but not exactly striking anybody. Whether you chalk it up to bad aim or good intentions, the bullets tore into the stage, interrupting the performance and creating panicked screams inside the entire theatre. People below rose to their feet, trying desperately to get to the exits. By the time he ran out of bullets, Wade threw his guns to the ground, pulling out a hand grenade as he bit down on the pin, pulling the grenade off to the side as he held it up for all (who were more focused on getting out) to see.

"You leave them munchkins alone!"

From the start of his almost crude sense of comedy, like 4chan made superhero(ish), Josh was unsure of what he was supposed to think about Deadpool. As far as he'd been informed, there was a reason somewhere that Wade was in Hyperion. Apparently he was at least a half-decent assassin and mercenary, but now he seemed like any random psycho with an arsenal strapped to his back. To a professional who acted.... professional..., Mr. Wilson's behavior was borderl- way over the fucking line - insane. Josh widened his eyes, almost feeling his eyelid twitch in mild confusion. Then, experiential thinking took over - bullet time cracked into effect and he was ready to telekinetically catch the damn grenade if he had to.

The mission was to kill the senator, not make a mess of the theater. He was new to this business, but he figured L.T.S. didn't want to be tracked down and held accountable for the clusterfuck he and Wade had just caused. Unsure what protocol was in place for his partner going batshit crazy, he just wanted to neutralize the situation. People were fleeing, but at this point, maybe that was for the best as Wade called over the comm headset that the witch was trying to get him. For the most part, Josh was still calm, though. It was just somewhat unsettling that Wade's face may show up on the news the next day for his less-than subtle gunslinging.

Maybe shooting through the senator's head hadn't been his best decision that evening, but with Wade's healing factor, he figured the man could take a blow if he couldn't slow the bullet enough. Hawkeye pulled his gun down out of the air, stuck it in his bag with no more rounds in the magazine (he was aiming for one shot, one kill), and pulled out the jacket to throw over his tactical gear to head down to normal levels. In the fray, nobody noticed him dropping down from maintenance stairs to a balcony.

"Alpha, it wasn't the witch. Magic doesn't exist. We need to get out of here. What do you plan on doing with that grenade?"

[No prob, man. I saw that after my first post and though "uhhhhhhh". By the way, Deadpool = divoon.]

"Oh poor, naive, little B. I know you haven't had the experiences I've had. I'm sure you've heard the tales of olde. The magic of King Arthur's wizard, David Copperfield! He could pull a rabbit right out of his- ....grenade?"

Wade shot his eyes up to his right hand that still stuck up in the air. Forgetting the grenade still sticking up in the air, Wade paused another second that he probably should have made use of. Panicking, Deadpool reached out with his left hand and snatched the right arm of dead Senator Rodgers. Slamming the grenade in his palm he forced the fingers closed, jerking the body so it slowly fell out of the chair and onto the floor.

"Hold this a second, thanks!"

As the body fell ontop of the grenade, Wade turned and made one full strike in a sprint before the grenade went off. The body shielded most of the shrapnel, but left enough of an impact to send him into a half flip. Crashing his back into the wall, Wade fell on his head. Landing in an awkward position of an upsideown seat, Deadpool didn't move for several seconds before he brought his hand to his ear one more time.

"Uhh... target eliminated."

David Copperfield? King Arthur? ASFKDJ. Josh just quit trying to figure Wade out. There was no way, at least not in the space of a mission, that he would figure out the irrationally thinking mercenary. All he had ever done, he had dealt with people with at least a shred of poise and rationality. This just took the whole cake, smashed it, and revealed the body of a brutally murdered stripper inside. What would happen when they got back to base? Maybe if he closed his mind's eye, the crazy wouldn't get him. If I can't see it...

"Uhh... target eliminated."

Even as a sailor, he wasn't generally prone to the "curse like a sailor" stereotype, at least not aloud. He'd heard all the traditional profane words, and a few creative ones involving, of all things, food items, and long strings of crude, crudely slapped together insults. Despite his wide vocabulary, the plethora of derogatory and offensive words, all he could think was an infinite loop of the F-bomb. This situation was something he wasn't trained to deal with, though he'd have to adapt, as with any other situation. Situation normal: All fucked up. From the balcony he ran, vaulted, and at one point climbed his way over to Wade's position, thankfully after his comrade had done a startling half-flip.

There was human goo where the Senator had been, and he made a small grimace at the carnage. It wasn't as though he was fazed by blood or gore, he was just, well, usually not this loud and obvious. Ping, a freakin' paperclip just pierced your retina and went right through into the other side of your skull. Shot to the back of the head, a clean drop. Josh wasn't fond of messy bodies, especially if they required some moving. Then there was dignity. The Senator may have been a bit of a d-bag, but this was insane. He wanted to help Wade up then pop him in the head in a "should have had a V8, asshole" moment, but he left it alone.

Josh extended his hand to Wade, offering to help him out of his position, to drag him out of the awkward position by pulling him and righting him. He could just flip Deadpool with his mind, but in case there were any more onlookers, and because he didn't feel that generous, he abstained.

"Come on, we need to get out of here. Eyewitness news will be crawling all over the scene soon."