DC/Marvel: This Guy is Insane

"Who is he?" Storm, her iconic white hair framing her face, walked into the classroom with a stack of textbooks. Her eyes landed on Wade, who was once again shamelessly posing as a teacher, and then on a complete stranger staring blankly at the ceiling.

"Stand back!" Wade declared, his voice full of mock authority. "He's a dangerous lunatic, and I'm in the middle of his therapy session."

In a flash, Wade ripped off his ridiculous wig. The playful charade vanished, replaced by the cold, professional gleam of his twin pistols, both now aimed squarely at Alan. "Hands on your head and get down!" he barked. "Or you'll be getting a taste of my love bullets."

"Oh, for crying out loud," Alan shot back, his voice dripping with a thick, taunting drawl. He dramatically pulled up his shirt and slapped his stomach. "I knew it! You're just trying to off me so you can be the main character of this book, aren't you?" He puffed out his chest. "Come on, then! Bring it on! I've got divine protection, bucko! Your little peashooters can't do squat to me! Come on, hit me! What are you waiting for, you hack? You think I'm scared of you?"

"I'm serious. I will shoot."

"With so many lovely people watching? Go on, I dare you!"

"You don't think I have the guts, do you?" Wade snarled, the sound of him cocking both pistols echoing in the quiet room. Click. Clack.

"Pfft. Back when I was being experimented on, I used to crack jokes with my head doctor," Alan scoffed, pulling his patient gown up past his chest, revealing a Sharpie marker tucked under his armpit. "Stop yapping and start shooting!"

"Both of you, stop it! This is a school!" Storm, whose real name is Ororo Munroe, had seen enough. The sight of the two lunatics bickering was giving her a headache. "Are you two going to get out of my classroom," she fumed, her voice dropping to a dangerous low, "or do I have to throw you out?" As she spoke, her eyes began to glow a milky white. Her hair floated around her as if weightless, crackling with arcs of static electricity. Miniature cyclones of wind began to form in the palms of her hands.

Alan and Wade simultaneously turned their attention to her, their squabble momentarily forgotten.

"If this were a movie, her screen time would be minimal," Alan analyzed with a serious expression. "Those special effects are way too expensive. If I were the director, I'd kill her off in the first act."

"I agree," Wade chimed in, puffing out his chest proudly. "A popular character like me, with a ton of personality and a much more… grounded combat style, is the one who gets his own movie franchise."

"You've already had two solo movies, and the third one isn't even out yet," Alan countered. "Besides, I've seen a few of those European romance films she was in. The leading lady looked a lot like her. I had to fast-forward, though. The acting was just so fake."

"Man, Marvel Studios must be really desperate if they're getting into the adult film industry."

"Nah, it's all those unauthorized indie companies. When I used my doctor's computer to browse certain websites, I'd always get these risk warnings. But I, being a genius, just ignored them."

"…" Wade was beginning to think this guy was more than he could handle. Even he was struggling to keep up with the sheer chaos

Suddenly, Alan's eyes rolled back into his head, and his body went limp, collapsing to the floor in a heap.

"Get out of my head!" Wade suddenly screamed, pressing the barrel of his own gun to his temple. "Get out now, or I'll blow my own brains out!"

A calm, telepathic voice echoed in Wade's mind. "Understood. I am on my way."

Wade lowered his weapons and scooped up the unconscious Alan.

In Alan's Mindscape

Charles Xavier had been conducting his daily telepathic sweep of the school when he stumbled upon the scene in the classroom. The sudden appearance of a stranger had put him on high alert. With the constant threat of government crackdowns and anti-mutant factions, the school had to be ever-vigilant against infiltration. A mutant's abilities were a priceless commodity, a potential weapon that could turn the tide of any war.

The moment he entered the stranger's consciousness, however, Charles knew something was profoundly wrong. With any normal human, he could have instantly taken control of their mindscape, shaping and reshaping their mental world at will. But this was different. He found himself in an endless, blindingly white void. He walked toward a stark white wall in the distance, but when he was about fifteen feet away, he hit an invisible barrier. No matter how hard he pushed, he could not get any closer.

On the wall was a single window. A young man with a bizarre, twitchy energy poked his head out, a mischievous glint in his eyes. He and Charles stared at each other for a few seconds. Before Charles could even begin his standard, calming introduction, the man spoke.

"What are you looking at, huh?" Alan asked, a wicked grin spreading across his face. "Don't tell me… you're after my hot body?"

"…" Charles was struck speechless. He tried to formulate a response, something to soothe the man's apparent agitation.

"Nope! Can't look, can't look!" Alan ducked down below the windowsill, disappearing from view. He then popped back up with a gleeful "Yoo-hoo! It's me, your treasure! Here I stand before you! Do I look as dashing as you remember? Aaaand I'm gone! You can't see me!"

"…"

"Gotcha! Even if you see me, you can't have me! Haha!"

"…"

"Whoops, my left shoelace is untied. Excuse me for a moment."

"…"

"Hahaha! Just kidding! I'm wearing a slipper on my left foot! Oh, wait, my right shoelace is untied now, too. Be right back!"

"…"

"Hahaha! Got you again! I'm wearing a slipper on my right foot, too! Are you surprised? Are you utterly shocked?"

"And I can teleport! Swoosh! See? I'm gone! Swoosh! And now I'm back! Swoosh-swoosh-swoosh-swoosh…"

Charles watched as Alan bobbed up and down in the window like a demented jack-in-the-box, his hands clenched into tight fists. The man was infuriating. He was worse than Deadpool, a feat Charles hadn't thought possible. He felt a primal urge to unleash a psychic blast and reduce the man's brain to pudding. But he couldn't. The white wall was like a fortress wall, and with his current strength, he had no way to break through. It made a certain kind of sense; the system data had indicated Alan had maxed out two professions, boosting his mental power to twenty-four times that of a normal person. His psychic resistance had grown accordingly.

"Am I too fast for you? Can you handle this frequency?"

"Come on, call me handsome! Do it! Feed my ego! If you don't, I won't let you look anymore!"

"Hmph… swoosh… whether you say it or not… swoosh… I'm still handsome!"

In the Headmaster's Office

Charles Xavier sat heavily in his chair, leaning back with a gasp. A trickle of blood was flowing from his nose. He was breathing heavily, looking utterly exhausted and infuriated.

That was a mistake, he thought, wiping the blood from his lip. That man's mind… it's a vortex of pure mental pollution. He made a solemn vow to himself: unless it was an absolute emergency, he would never, ever attempt to enter that lunatic's mindscape again. It was just too damaging. The psychic backlash had literally given him a nosebleed.

CRASH! The office door was kicked open. Wade Wilson strode in, carrying Alan slung over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes.

"I brought the package," Wade announced, dropping Alan unceremoniously onto the floor. He flashed a wicked grin. "Want me to take care of him? Don't worry, I'm a professional. I guarantee there won't even be a body to identify."

"You fiend!" Alan suddenly cried out, his eyes snapping open. He'd woken up the moment Charles had withdrawn from his mind but had been playing dead ever since. "Just moments ago, we were sharing such an intimate moment, and now you want to do away with me? You're cruel! You're shameless! You're utterly unreasonable!"

"You should try death by fire," Wade recommended with the straightest face imaginable. "I've tried it. It's a very stimulating experience." In one of his past suicide attempts, he had indeed tried self-immolation. While he couldn't feel the pain, the memory had a certain… unforgettable quality.

"Then do it, you monster," Alan declared, spreading his arms and legs out in a star shape on the floor. He closed his eyes with a look of blissful anticipation.

"Get up. I have questions for you," Charles said, unable to watch them any longer. Just being in the same room with the two of them was making his scalp tingle.

"Only if you say, 'Prince, please rise,'" Alan replied, not moving an inch.

"... Prince, please rise," Wade immediately deadpanned. He wasn't sure why he said it, but the thought of not saying it made him feel deeply uncomfortable.

"As you wish." With a perfect kip-up, Alan sprang to his feet. He flicked his hair back with a flourish and scanned the room. "Thank goodness there aren't any mirrors in here," he said with a sigh of relief. "I almost fainted from my own handsomeness."

Blegh… Wade clutched the wall, making a loud, dramatic retching sound.

"Aha!" Alan exclaimed, pointing a finger at him. "Look at little Wade, so stunned by my dashing looks that he's having a morning sickness reaction! I'm truly blessed that I can't see my own face."

At that moment, Charles seriously considered using his powers to make himself deaf. "Please," Charles said, gesturing to a chair, "have a seat."

"Don't mind if I do." Alan sat down, bolt upright and primly proper. Yet his eyes darted around the room like a hyperactive squirrel, projecting an air of pure, unadulterated idiocy.

(End of Chapter)

***

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