Heyyy, what's happenin'? You've reached the voicemail of one very fine-lookin' man. Wanna chat? Fanboy all over my mad skillz? Declare your undying love for me? You know what to do. [BEEEEP]
Nobody who wasn't a fellow captive, no. Don't worry, we've already gone through the rigamarole of how creepy and suspicious that is. It's not like we really had a choice, though. One morning we just... woke up there. Like in the hospital. We couldn't get out.
Like I said before, nobody really wants to stay there for too long. The whole post-apocalyptic I Am Legend aspect of it starts to get to you after a while. I don't know about the rest of the gang, but my general rule of thumb is to just take what you can and get the hell outta there, tunnel monsters be damned. I suggest you follow the same rule, yourself.
[His last remark is spoken almost as an afterthought.]
Oh, and by the way... writing's allowed over there. Don't ask me how that works.
[So... what? He's gonna shout "Look out!" every time a monster creeps up on them? Deadpool isn't sure what use that would be-- aside from the fact that they share a name, he's got no reason to believe this pup shares the same powers as the Charles Xavier that he knows.
He's about to ask the guy just what exactly he means by that, but then he remembers that he doesn't really care.]
Sure, why not? Could always use an extra pair of hands. Try not to get in the way of my bullets, okay?
[There is a long pause on the other end. What Charles doesn't know is that Deadpool is slowly putting two and two together. A man named Charles Xavier, writing doctrines about mutants-- he definitely recognizes his voice now-- and talking about telepathy?
Either this is an amazing coincidence or he's currently talking to some kind of "before X-Men" Charles Xavier. And Deadpool's had enough forays into time travel not to completely rule that out.
When he speaks again, his voice is hesitant; guarded.]
Depends on whose mind's gettin' read here, Chuck. Because, uh... if you just want us to pass secret mental notes to each other, I've got no problem with that. But... go deeper and I might just get a little... touchy, let's just say.
Course, even if I didn't have a problem with it, there's not a whole lot you'd be gettin' outta this noggin. Call it a side-effect of the, uh... talents I got in me, if you catch my drift. Makes my brain very difficult to pick apart.
No one's, unless I can find a local in Haven North. If we're separated while retrieving the supplies, using my telepathy to speak with and locate you would be infinitely easier.
Eh, I wouldn't say it's a power, per se-- more like a nifty little offshoot of the powers I do have. I'm a self-healer, you could say. Think of any injury a person can possibly sustain; I can bounce back from it. Chances are I already have at some point.
That includes brain cells, by the way. Which is probably why telepathy doesn't work on me-- the poor saps who tried ended up looking like they were suffering from some seriously vicious migraines. My brain's a literal "dead zone" for psychics. Pretty cool, huh?
Indeed. [There's something bothering Charles about all this...the way he speaks of telepaths and his powers are very familiar like he's encountered telepaths before.]
Deadpool, are those with powers in your world referred to as "mutants" by any chance?
[Another long silence. His voice is smug when he breaks it this time, as if he knows something Charles doesn't and isn't about to tell him what it is.]
Well, that's the PC term for 'em. I'm sure there're other names, but they're probably not things you'd wanna say in a room fulla muties, y'know?
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Like I said before, nobody really wants to stay there for too long. The whole post-apocalyptic I Am Legend aspect of it starts to get to you after a while. I don't know about the rest of the gang, but my general rule of thumb is to just take what you can and get the hell outta there, tunnel monsters be damned. I suggest you follow the same rule, yourself.
[His last remark is spoken almost as an afterthought.]
Oh, and by the way... writing's allowed over there. Don't ask me how that works.
no subject
[His voice is soft when he speaks again.]
As for the writing...that's something to be considered later. When was the last time you went to Haven North for supplies?
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Why? Wanna join me?
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He's about to ask the guy just what exactly he means by that, but then he remembers that he doesn't really care.]
Sure, why not? Could always use an extra pair of hands. Try not to get in the way of my bullets, okay?
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I suppose I should ask, as we'll be working together--what are your feelings on telepathy?
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Either this is an amazing coincidence or he's currently talking to some kind of "before X-Men" Charles Xavier. And Deadpool's had enough forays into time travel not to completely rule that out.
When he speaks again, his voice is hesitant; guarded.]
Depends on whose mind's gettin' read here, Chuck. Because, uh... if you just want us to pass secret mental notes to each other, I've got no problem with that. But... go deeper and I might just get a little... touchy, let's just say.
Course, even if I didn't have a problem with it, there's not a whole lot you'd be gettin' outta this noggin. Call it a side-effect of the, uh... talents I got in me, if you catch my drift. Makes my brain very difficult to pick apart.
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[Now that's interesting.]
Is telepathic shielding a power you possess?
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That includes brain cells, by the way. Which is probably why telepathy doesn't work on me-- the poor saps who tried ended up looking like they were suffering from some seriously vicious migraines. My brain's a literal "dead zone" for psychics. Pretty cool, huh?
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Deadpool, are those with powers in your world referred to as "mutants" by any chance?
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Well, that's the PC term for 'em. I'm sure there're other names, but they're probably not things you'd wanna say in a room fulla muties, y'know?