Chapter Text
“Explain it to me again. Concisely, this time,” Spider-Man says to Deadpool on the night everything goes wrong.
A suffocatingly hot day is giving way to a warm, damp night. The city still radiates summer heat, even though the sun has slipped beyond the horizon. The clock is nearing ten, the moon is rising, and nothing whatsoever suggests that everything is about to go wrong. Sure, Deadpool is out and about with Spider-Man, too, but recently the mercenary has been on his best behavior, so Spider-Man isn’t too worried about it.
The truth is that they’ve been friends (Enemies? Friendly enemies?) for so long that by now they know each other pretty well. Spider-Man has learned to expect the unexpected from Deadpool, whereas Deadpool knows his Spidey well enough to know that he’s a total creature of habit. Together, they’ve muddled their way into something like harmonious co-existence that consists of moral arguments, banter, late-night takeaway on rooftops, and sometimes (like tonight) shared missions
“Okay, okay, listen carefully this time. So, the other day I… Well, let’s say I saw a man about a dog,” Deadpool starts, shooting a tentative look at Spider-Man as if to check if he’s buying it.
Spider-Man doesn’t buy it.
“Did the man or the dog die in this scenario?” he asks.
“No. No, it wasn’t that kind of a Thursday,” Deadpool hurries to assure. “Anyway, the dog told me that some guy told him that his aunt heard from her neighbor that—”
“Concisely,” Spider-Man repeats emphatically. “Do you know what that word means?”
“Of course, I do. The point, from which you’re trying to distract me, is that I’m ninety percent sure that some weird shit is going down in this neighborhood,” Deadpool says. “So, I thought to myself, who likes to investigate weird shit going down in New York? Why, the friendly neighborhood Spider-Man, of course!”
“So, you brought me here because you heard a rumor from a dog?” Spider-Man asks, entirely unimpressed.
Deadpool makes a frustrated sound. “No, of course not! Keep up.”
“I frankly have no idea what you’re on about,” Spider-Man admits.
“People go in and never come out,” Deadpool says. “That sounds like something a superhero should investigate. Something sinister could be going on.”
Spider-Man grudgingly admits to himself that it does sound like something he should probably investigate. He doesn’t say it aloud, of course, because Deadpool’s head is big enough as it is. But Deadpool is smart enough to figure it out anyway, so he gives himself a proverbial pat on the back for actually helping Spider-Man out for once. That’s friendship-building stuff right there, and Deadpool has been trying for a long time to wiggle his way into Spidey’s good graces.
“Why do you care that something sinister might be going on?” Spider-Man asks suspiciously.
Deadpool shrugs. “I like watching you do your thing. It’s better entertainment than late-night TV shows these days.”
It’s both the truth and a lie. While Deadpool does genuinely enjoy watching Spider-Man's superheroics, there’s also another reason. The prolonged proximity and friendship with a genuine superhero have changed him. Or something like that. Spidey’s endless nagging and his sheer goodness are, in short, inspiring. Deadpool has even been using rubber bullets on jobs lately. He likes to imagine that Spidey would be proud of him, if only he believed it. Thus, ever since Deadpool learned that innocent New Yorkers might be going missing in this part of the town, he’s been hearing Spider-Man’s relentless voice in his head:
“It’s wrong. We have to do something about it,” the imaginary Spidey nags, and over the past days, Deadpool has come to agree.
Hence, here they are.
Spider-Man has truly made him soft. It’s almost a little embarrassing.
“Did this metaphorical dog give you any details? Like where to start, for instance,” Spider-Man asks, looking around curiously like he expects a mystery villain to pop up from the ground conveniently.
“None at all,” Deadpool replies cheerfully. “Your guess is as good as mine.”
They’re in the seedier part of New York, walking down a street in the shadows of rundown apartment complexes and abandoned commercial buildings. From a distance comes the metallic sound of a train passing by, but other than that, it’s eerily quiet.
Eventually, they encounter a passerby —a tired-looking black man who wanders ahead of them on the other side of the street, likely on his way home from work.
“Excuse me, sir?” Spider-Man calls politely, drawing the man’s attention. He shoots out a web to swing across the street over to the man, and Deadpool loyally hurries after him.
The man stops on his way, looks up from his feet, and his gaze bounces a few times between Spider-Man and Deadpool.
“Spider-Man? And… another Spider-Man?” he says, sounding confused. “This isn’t really your sort of neighborhood, is it? Nobody remembers us down here.”
“Every neighborhood in New York is my kind of neighborhood,” Spider-Man argues. “I heard rumors that—”
The man huffs an unamused laugh. “If you’re here about the missing folks, I don’t know anything. Nobody knows anything, and the police don’t care.”
“We care,” Deadpool butts in. “That’s why we’re here.”
The man squints his eyes suspiciously at them for a moment before he shrugs. “I don’t know why, but I almost want to believe you.”
The man waves a hand in a vague direction behind them.
“I don’t know anything, but a mile that way, there’s an underpass. The homeless look for shelter there, and they have eyes everywhere. I’d start there, if I were you.”
“We’ll do that. Thank you,” Spider-Man says with a grateful nod.
They head in the direction the man indicated. The neighborhood gets even grimmer. Many of the buildings are abandoned, and unfriendly eyes follow their progress from the windows of those that aren’t.
“Gee, sure makes a man feel welcome,” Deadpool remarks.
Spider-Man doesn’t respond even though he agrees with the sentiment. He’s used to the suspicion. It’s the price to pay for being a masked superhuman.
In the end, they never make it to that underpass. They’re about halfway there when the tranquility of the night gets interrupted. There’s a loud racket down a dim back alley, followed by a muffled scream.
“That sounds worth checking,” Deadpool says helpfully, but Spider-Man is already on the move, headed toward the sound.
They don’t find a sinister villain, but a woman in a peculiar predicament. Spider-Man stops in his tracks to stare for a moment. The woman appears to be trapped in a dumpster at the side of the alley. She’s wearing a multitude of layered skirts that seem to have gotten stuck in the narrow opening of the dumpster while she must have been diving into it. She’s hanging upside down, half in the dumpster, half out, feet kicking comically in the air as she tries to free herself.
Deadpool snorts a laugh at the sight. Spider-Man elbows him sharply to shut him up.
“Help is here, ma’am,” Spider-Man says loudly, “Try to remain calm.”
She responds with another muffled curse and a wild kick that almost hits Spider-Man in his masked face.
“You’re helping,” Spider-Man orders Deadpool.
Despite Deadpool’s loud protests, together they manage to pull the woman free and out of the dumpster. Spider-Man sets her on her feet, and Deadpool helpfully picks a piece of trash out of her dark, messy hair.
Her hair isn’t the only messy thing about her. She appears to be wearing half a dozen worn dresses stacked on top of each other, along with at least five underskirts, and a dirty, torn coat over everything. Her outfit is unusual and impractical in the suffocating summer heat. This close, she smells like she hasn’t washed in ages, but it could be at least partially blamed on the dive in the dumpster. Her face is filthy, but amidst the dark muck glare two startlingly green, vibrant eyes.
Spider-Man politely ignores the state she’s in and asks, “Are you alright?”
“Do I look alright to you?” the woman asks sharply. “This whole night has been a nightmare, and now you two idiots freed me!”
For some reason, she sounds almost sour about it, like being saved is an inconvenience of the worst kind.
“We sure did! That’s us; two super buddies saving the day one good deed at a time,” Deadpool exclaims and then looks at Spider-Man like he’s expecting a round of applause for his minor part in this act of heroism.
“I think I did most of the heavy lifting,” Spider-Man points out, shooting Deadpool a look.
The woman is tapping her foot with annoyance now.
“What do you want then?” she asks. “Fame? Fortune? Immeasurable wealth? Name it. I haven’t got all evening.”
“Huh?” Deadpool asks.
“What?” wonders Spider-Man.
“You’ve got a wish each, so make them,” the woman says impatiently. “The rules are simple. You can’t wish for more wishes, and I can’t bring back the dead. About everything else is within my power.”
“Wait, wait, wait, are you for real?” Deadpool asks, delighted. “Can I wish for—”
“No, she’s not for real. She’s clearly unwell and needs a hospital,” Spider-Man interrupts. Perhaps the woman was upside down in the dumpster for too long, and it has affected her brain somehow.
“Odder things have happened,” Deadpool points out, and, yeah, maybe he has a point, but Spider-Man isn’t swayed. He’s genuinely concerned for her now. She looks homeless, so maybe she hasn’t had the necessary medical care in ages. She could be having a psychotic break and be a danger to herself.
“Ma’am, I think you need help,” Spider-Man says, taking the woman gently by her dirty hand. “I know you’re probably scared, but there are people who can—”
The woman shakes him off and scoffs.
“I’m not crazy,” she says. “I am power, dust, and ancient rage.”
“Ooookay,” Deadpool says. “That does sound a little crazy, to be honest. Just a friendly observation.”
“I won’t have this talk from stupid children,” the woman says. “Make your wishes.”
Spider-Man stares at the woman for a moment, trying to puzzle her out. She seems remarkably coherent for someone who might be having issues with her mental health. Perhaps there’s another explanation for…
Wait.
Maybe this is all an elaborate, stupid prank. It wouldn’t be the first time.
Spider-Man rubs his temples tiredly like he’s developing a headache. He turns to Deadpool.
“Did you put her up to this?” Spider-Man asks.
“What? No!” Deadpool denies, almost insulted.
Spider-Man points an accusing finger at Deadpool and continues, “I’m pretty sure you did! You always do this: drag me into these harebrained misadventures and assume I’ll just go along with it. You know what? If I really got one wish, I’d wish we had never met! It would save me from countless headaches.”
Spider-Man swirls toward the woman.
“How’s that for a wish?” he asks, sounding a little mad about it.
The woman shrugs. “I’ve heard better.”
As she speaks, the alley begins to swell with wind and power that whips around them violently. The woman suddenly glows with golden light that seems to radiate outward from her chest. Years are shaken from her sharp, angular face, and suddenly she’s young, beautiful, and all-powerful.
“Ooooh, magic!” Deadpool exclaims excitedly.
The woman looks expectantly at Deadpool.
“Make your wish,” she orders again, and her voice echoes with a thousand other voices.
“Any wish within those rules?” Deadpool asks the woman, sounding interested. “I wish Spidey were in love with me!”
Spider-Man turns to him sharply. “What? What kind of a stupid—“
“That way, you’d be a lot nicer to me,” Deadpool interrupts defensively.
The woman nods once.
“So it shall be,” she says.
On the last word, the world cracks open with a deafening sound that drowns out Deadpool’s excited whoop. Darkness pours into the world like a wave, sweeping over everything. Spider-Man draws a breath to blame Deadpool for the end of the world, but the darkness drags them both under before he can find the words.