Thirst for Blood WIP

"The City is hot in the summer. Hot with the bright, bright burning rays of evil. Evil that burns and taints us all with it's horrible red, blotchy burn. But I, the Tick, am the factor ninety seven sunscreen of the city. Protecting the skin that is the citizens from the harmful UV rays of evil and unpleasantness. Yes, because protection from the sun is important, especially with our depleting ozone layer."
The blue hero surveryed the city of The City, watching out for any signs of crime or misconduct that he may thwart with his great strength and rather inferior cunning.
The beloved, blue-clad, bounding befe- defender of The City leaped from rooftop to rooftop in a somewhat destructive fashion.
Cracks developing where his mighty fingers sought a grip, piles of masonry raining down upon the street below as he lands.
He leaps and bounds the length and breadth of the city as the sun goes down. Tirelessly contiuing his patrol until it rises again.

'The City. What a dumb name for a city. Then I shouldn't complain. I'm getting paid a lot to take out this bunny suited twerp. Don't ask me why. Guy dresses up as a bunny for kicks I don't see him as that much of a threat.'
He sat in the back of the bus, his high collar around his masked face. The long trench coat with upturned collar and wide brimmed hat was somewhat conspicuous on an interstate bus. But not quite as conspicuous as the red and black, bandoliered costume beneath it. He could have left the costume. He could have used the image inducer he'd stolen from Stark Industries to hide his disfigured face.
'But my brain hasn't been working that well since those weapon x guys gave me the healing factor, brain cells regenerate a teensy bit quicker than I can deal with, makes me act like I'm a guy playing whack-a-mole with thirty arms. Yeah, I know you're out there. I know you can read what I'm thinking. It's the only sensible explanation for what happens in this world. Now in the worst ever blow to the continuity of my series, which has been taking some pretty solid whoopings since day one, i'm bein' crossed over with a place from another comic company. So I'm going to The City, god knows how. Inevitably i'm going to run  into some of the heroes 'round here. I hope it's American Maid, she's pretty ripe. . .
I'm Deadpool, by the way. The Merc With a Mouth. The primo, go to guy for prompt and efficient delivery of ass kickings, killings and sundries. Sent here to kill some pajama wearing bunny boy, presumably for dressing like a total feeb.'

Arhtur sat back down at his desk. His briefcase on the floor by his chair. It had been hard getting back to his old job. He had thought, maybe, after all he'd done, that the snickering and mockery might die down now. But if anything it had intensified. Among the snickers and sniggles he occasionally heard the word "bunny" muttered, followed by laughter.
He had to quit being Tick's sidekick, it was just ridiculous. It had no pay and he was nearly forced to declare bankrupcy. What with paying for repairs to his suit and payin all of the Tick's fines for damage to public property.
He fumed silently as he clacked away on his keyboard. Trying to get the company's accounts to add up to a number that actually made some sense.
His bunny ears quivering with his pent up rage.
he barely noticed the bullet whizz through his head.

"A gunshot!" Cried Tick as his head turned to follow the sound. He bounded toward the sourcew of the noise, destroying several valuable gargoyles on his way. "I will face this new meance to The City! I will thwart whatever naughty deed is now being performed. I am on my way to protect the innocent, for evil is afoot! And I am the one who shall step on its toes!"

The cafe was crowded with the usual heroes. But the air was different, the air was heavy. It was no longer an indifferent, bored air but a depressed and anxious air.
The focal point was the blue heap, slumped over the counter.
"Tick, look, man, it's ok. Arthur wasn't having much fun anywa- OW!" Die Fledermaus glared over his shoulder at the star spangled heroine of liberty, freedom and . . . being free
"What did you do that for?"
"Shut up! Tick, don't listen to that idiot. Arthur's in a better place now."
The long, broad chinned and tear streaked face looked up at her piteously
"Tell me about the city morgue, American Maid."
She paused, quietly ignoring the torrent of sniggering behind her, she had always known Tick was like a child, but she kept forgetting how simple he was anyway. She had a whole speech ready about how wonderful heaven was, or valhalla, or nirvanna or reincarnation depending on which one the big guy bought, but she hadn't counted on him taking her literally.
"Uh, the morgue. The morgue is like . ."
"The morgue is cold, nice and cold so you can keep your food fresh all the time without having to shell out for a refridgirator. You sleep in a narrow drawer, 'cause people sometimes sleep walk and they don't want anybody hurting themselves. And you can live there with all your dead friends all in the one room so you always have somebody to talk to."
Everybody turned to the stranger in the red suit sitting in the corner of the room.
They had been a little nervous about him. He had so many weapons, grenades, glocks, katanas, knives and reams of bullets. Therapy for Longshot had cost them enough, even with everybody clubbing together. They didn't want to pay for a second.
"Thank you, red man."
Tick said with a smile and eyes welled up with tears of joy.
"It's good to know that Arthur has gone somewhere so . . . beautiful."
The red clad stranger slapped the blue collosus on tha back
"No problem, I've seen a lot of people I knew die."
Tick hugged the stranger in a tight embrace, cracking echoed around the cafe.
"Welcome to The City, friend! What is your name."
Released from the death-grip of friendship the stranger staggered back
"Just . . . just wait for my healing factor to kick in, I think you broke a few of my ribs. The name's. . . Deadpool."
He managed to splutter before having his face planted in the ground with a hearty slap on the back
"Deadpool? I like it! It sounds . . . dramatic! Will you join me in bringing Arthur's nefarious killer to justice?"
"Will I get to hurt people?"
"Probably."
"I'm in."

The huge, blue defender of justice bounded far ahead of his new found companion, leaving him far behind in his wake of well meaning destuction.
'Ok, so i've never been a guy to concentrate much on transport. Spidey's got his webs, Iron Man can fly, the FF have that lame ass fantasticar, avengers have the quinjets, the X-men have the Blackbird even Hulk can leap as well as this blue bozo. I have my own precious tootsies. I get where I need to go, yeah, but i take my sweet ass time doing it.'
"Whoa, man. Wait up!"
"What is it, friend?"
"Do we have any idea who we're looking for?"

Tick stared at him with a bemused expression "Why, we're hunting for Arthur's killer of course."
'And killer's go around with a sign on their head sayin' who it was they killed, oh yeah, makes it real convenient to find 'em.'
"Do we know who killed him?"
The normally high and perky antennae laden head drooped low, a slump overcame the mighty body of the Tick
"No, I don't know who killed him." He dropped to his knees, shaking the building beneath and causing an earthquake scare
"I don't know who killed Arthur. I don't know why Arthur died. WHY! WHY DID THEY HAVE TO KILL MY LITTLE CHUM! WHY DID HE HAVE TO DIE!"
Deadpool reeled back from the sheer force of melodrama washing out in waves around the Tick. It was almost unbearable, the sheer cheesy overexpression of emotion was a force in itself, with a kind of power Deadpool had never seen before.
'This guys the biggest ham since Shatner and I like Shatner.'
Wade put an arm over a big blue shoulder and restrained the urge to tell his friend he was being 'highly illogical' that had been spawned by the Tick's Shatnerian performance.