Deadpool and Spider-Man simultaneously adjusted the settings on their high-tech suits. With a soft electronic hum, both costumes activated their full-spectrum invisibility functions. Within seconds, their bodies seemed to melt into the surrounding air, leaving no trace of their presence.
"Alright, Spider-Boy," Deadpool's disembodied voice whispered. "We've got a very limited window before someone notices something weird. Like two floating tacos in a prison corridor. Or worse—a guard accidentally groping invisible me and getting the wrong idea about prison romance!"
Taking advantage of the momentary chaos during a shift change, the invisible duo slipped past distracted guards and into the main cellblock. The prison's interior was exactly what Peter had expected—harsh fluorescent lighting, the pervasive smell of industrial disinfectant, and an oppressive atmosphere of contained desperation.
After methodically exploring several corridors, they eventually found themselves outside the warden's office. With practiced efficiency, Deadpool picked the lock while Peter kept watch.
"And they said my misspent youth picking locks to steal cable would never amount to anything," Wade's invisible voice muttered. "Suck on this, high school guidance counselor!"
Once inside the darkened office, they began meticulously searching through file cabinets, desk drawers, and bookshelves. Peter's fingers traced along the row of leather-bound volumes occupying an ornate bookcase against the far wall.
"This isn't working out like the movies at all," Peter whispered, his disembodied voice carrying a note of disappointment. "In every spy film, this bookcase would definitely be a secret door. We just need to find the right book to pull or hidden switch to activate..."
Across the room, Wade had slouched into the warden's plush leather chair, spinning idly. "We've searched every conceivable hiding spot! This guy really knows how to keep his secrets..." He abruptly stopped spinning. "Wait a minute!"
Peter's invisible form jolted at the sudden exclamation. "What? What's wrong?"
"I just remembered something really important!" Deadpool's voice radiated excitement.
"What is it?" Peter pressed, alert for trouble.
"My Disney+ subscription is about to auto-renew! And I haven't even finished Loki season 3 yet!" There was a pause. "Oh, and also this—Arcane, activate scanning mode!"
The moment the command left his lips, his previously invisible suit suddenly emitted a pulsing blue glow. Beams of azure light shot outward in all directions like a sci-fi scanner, mapping every contour of the office. After completing its 360-degree sweep, a single concentrated laser beam projected forward, pointing directly at an ornate globe positioned on the warden's desk.
"Holy plot convenience, Batman!" Deadpool exclaimed. "We completely overlooked the most obvious movie cliché of all time! It's the freaking globe! It's ALWAYS the freaking globe! This is like Secret Entrance Design 101!"
Peter's invisible form became partially visible as he deactivated his camouflage in shock. "Your suit had this capability the whole time? And we've been fumbling around in the dark like idiots for the past twenty minutes?"
Wade's shoulders performed an exaggerated shrug. "Don't blame me, blame lazy exposition! I just got this suit too, remember? Besides, you have the exact same functions in yours. Why didn't YOU think of it first, Mr. I-Got-Into-Midtown-School-For-Super-Smartypants?"
"I... I do?" Peter stammered.
"Only one way to find out," Wade prompted. "Just talk to your suit like it's Siri's more competent cousin."
Peter hesitated before tentatively speaking. "Um... Arcane? Activate scanning mode?"
Instantly, his spider suit illuminated with the same blue glow, projecting its own targeting beam toward the identical globe.
"That is SO COOL!" Peter couldn't contain his enthusiasm. He examined his glowing suit with newfound appreciation. "But seriously, who designs a super-advanced technological marvel like this without including some kind of instruction manual? That's just irresponsible product design!"
"Welcome to Apple's business model, kid," Deadpool quipped. "Next thing you know, they'll be selling the charger separately. Oh wait..."
Deadpool approached the globe, examining it carefully before giving it a decisive twist. "Let's see... North America, South America, Europe, Wakanda—aha! Latvia!" The moment he rotated it to a specific position, the bookcase behind them made a series of mechanical clicks. With a nearly silent hydraulic hiss, the entire shelf recessed into the wall before sliding sideways, revealing a gleaming metallic passageway bathed in cold, clinical light.
"And the award for Most Predictable Secret Evil Lair Entrance goes to... whatever prison warden decided to watch every Bond movie ever and think 'Yeah, that's secure!'" Deadpool announced in a game show host voice.
They approached cautiously, discovering a sleek elevator at the end of the short corridor. Its polished steel doors reflected their now-visible forms like a mirror.
Deadpool drew two ornately engraved Desert Eagles from his holsters, their gold plating catching the harsh fluorescent lighting. "Check out my babies! I call them Brad Pitt and Jennifer Aniston—because they make a beautiful couple but ultimately cause a lot of destruction!"
He turned to Peter with a dramatic flourish. "Last chance to back out, Spider-Runt. From here on, things get messier than my apartment after taco night. You ready for this? And remember, there are no wrong answers... except 'no' which is definitely the wrong answer!"
Peter took a deep breath. With a mechanical whir, the six mechanical spider limbs extended from his back, their razor-sharp tips glinting menacingly before smoothly retracting back into his suit.
"I'm ready, Uncle Wade," he replied, trying to sound more confident than he felt.
"Uncle Wade? Oh my heart! I'm going to needlepoint that on a throw pillow!" Deadpool clutched his chest dramatically. "Also, fun fact—in some alternate universe, I'm probably dating your aunt right now, which would make me your actual uncle. The multiverse is wild like that!"
They stepped into the elevator together. As the doors closed with a soft pneumatic hiss, Peter felt the characteristic drop in his stomach as they began their descent. The digital floor indicator showed negative numbers, continuing downward: -1, -2, -3...
"Going down!" Deadpool announced in his best elevator operator voice. "Floor negative four: evil experiments, sinister plots, and slightly overpriced gift shop!"
Unknown to them, their elevator activation had triggered silent alarms throughout the facility. By the time they reached sublevel 5, a tactical response team had already assembled, weapons trained directly at the elevator doors.
"Bet you twenty bucks there's an armed welcome committee waiting for us," Deadpool whispered. "Wanna make it interesting? I get points for headshots, you get points for creative webbing. Winner gets to choose the post-mission restaurant."
When the elevator chimed its arrival with a cheerful "ding," the doors slid open to reveal... absolutely nothing.
The tactical team exchanged confused glances. Before any of them could react, two suspended Desert Eagles materialized in midair, seemingly floating without support.
"Surprise, motherfluffers!" Deadpool's disembodied voice rang out. "Bet you didn't see that coming! Actually, you literally didn't see that coming. That's kind of the point of invisibility!"
"BANG! BANG! BANG!"
Muzzle flashes illuminated the darkness as bullets tore through the air with deadly precision. Six guards dropped instantly before anyone could process what was happening.
"That's six points for Deadpool!" he crowed. "Spider-Boy, you're falling behind on the scoreboard!"
Within the elevator, the air shimmered as Deadpool and Spider-Man deactivated their invisibility. The mercenary nodded approvingly toward his protégé.
"Spider-Boy, we've got maybe three minutes before this place goes into complete lockdown. Like your aunt's Netflix account after I kept adding inappropriate movies to her watchlist. Make 'em count!"
"Got it!" Peter acknowledged, launching himself into the air with superhuman agility.
At the apex of his jump, he fired webbing in rapid succession, each shot finding its mark. Within seconds, several approaching security personnel found themselves completely immobilized against walls and support columns, their weapons clattering uselessly to the floor.
"That's what I call a sticky situation!" Deadpool called out, punctuating his joke with another deafening round of gunfire. "Get it? Because... web fluid... is sticky? Why do I always have to explain my jokes to you?"
Peter's mechanical spider limbs extended to their full length, transforming him into a terrifying arachnid silhouette against the emergency lights. Using his webbing as a grapple, he swung directly toward one of the immobilized guards, stopping mere inches from the man's face. Two of his mechanical limbs extended forward, their pointed tips hovering millimeters from the guard's wide eyes.
"Where's Caliban?" Peter demanded, deliberately lowering his voice to sound more intimidating. "Tell me now!"
The young guard's face drained of all color. His body trembled uncontrollably as a dark stain spread across the front of his uniform pants. "I-I-I don't know!" he stammered between terrified sobs. "I just s-started last week! Please don't kill me!"
Peter immediately retracted his mechanical limbs, utterly mortified by the guard's reaction. "Oh my God, I am so sorry! I didn't realize you were new here! I was just trying to—I mean—" he stumbled over his words. "Are you okay? I think you might need... um... fresh pants? I feel terrible about this! Do you guys have spare uniforms somewhere? I'm really, really sorry!"
"ARE YOU KIDDING ME RIGHT NOW?!" Deadpool's voice carried over the gunfire and screams. "You're apologizing to the bad guy? What's next—offering him a therapy session and a warm cup of cocoa? This isn't 'How to Make Friends in Prison'—it's 'How to Break INTO Prison and Find Two Extremely Dangerous Mutants Before We All Die!'"
While Peter was busy apologizing profusely to the traumatized guard, Deadpool had embarked on a completely different approach to information gathering.
The mercenary moved like a force of nature, his gold-plated Desert Eagles transforming into fully automatic weapons through some impossible modification. Brass casings rained on the floor as he cut through the security team with ruthless efficiency.
"Pew pew!" he shouted gleefully, providing his own sound effects. "Kablooie! Bang bang! Rat-tat-tat! This is just like Call of Duty, but with better graphics and worse smell!"
When his ammunition was finally exhausted, the distinctive metallic shing of katanas being drawn echoed through the facility. "Let's get schwifty with some slicey-dicey!" he announced, twirling the blades with unnecessary flourish.
Bullets ricocheted harmlessly off his blades as he charged forward, becoming a whirlwind of lethal motion. "Look at me! I'm a deadly ballerina! Five stars on Dance Dance Revolution: Murder Edition!"
Peter, having just finished consoling the shell-shocked rookie guard, turned around and immediately felt his stomach lurch at the scene before him.
The pristine laboratory floor, which had been spotless white tile moments before, now resembled a macabre Jackson Pollock painting. Bodies lay strewn at unnatural angles, and the metallic scent of blood hung thick in the air.
"Thank you for your generous gift!" Deadpool announced to no one in particular, wiping his katanas clean on a fallen guard's uniform. "You've all been selected as unwilling donors to the 'Make This Floor Really Red' foundation! Congrats posthumously!"
Peter took a hesitant step forward, his foot sliding unexpectedly in a pool of crimson. He windmilled his arms wildly to avoid falling.
"DEADPOOL! What the hell?!" he cried, genuine distress evident in his voice. "You didn't have to kill them! You could have just knocked them unconscious or webbed them up like I did! This is—this is excessive!"
Deadpool paused mid-cleaning, turning toward Peter with an exaggerated tilt of his head. "Seriously? You're giving me the disappointed father speech? I have daddy issues enough already, thank you very much!" He gestured emphatically with his bloodied katana. "If you hadn't been having your little therapy session with Mr. Peepants over there, I wouldn't have had to deal with twice as many shooty-shoot guys with their bang-bangs pointed at my beautiful face!"
He gestured broadly with his bloodied katana. "I handled YOUR workload and mine, and this is the thanks I get? That's like criticizing Gordon Ramsay for swearing while he's cooking you a five-star meal FOR FREE!"
"I was just—I was comforting a traumatized individual! You don't understand the psychological damage I might have caused him!"
Though his mask obscured his expression, Deadpool made a show of pulling it up slightly to wipe an imaginary tear. "Oh boo-hoo! You scared a widdle guard who voluntarily works at a prison housing dangerous mutants for an evil robot billionaire! Such tragedy! Quick, someone call the Hallmark Channel—we've got our next Christmas special: 'The Spider Who Stole Christmas But Then Felt Really Bad About It So He Put It Back'!"
"Enough with the ethical debate. The clock's ticking, and reinforcements will be swarming this place faster than flies on a... well, on this floor in about ten minutes. Let's find our targets and bounce! I've got a chimichanga food truck that closes at midnight and their salsa verde is worth committing war crimes for!"
As they moved deeper into the facility, Peter couldn't stop casting troubled glances at the carnage behind them. "I think I'm going to need serious therapy after this," he muttered. "I need to seriously reconsider my association with your 'underground resistance.' Your operational methods are... concerning."
"Says the kid who just traumatized a grown man into wetting himself," Deadpool sing-songed. "Glass houses, Spider-stones... or however that saying goes. I was never good with proverbs. Was more of a Wolverine comics fan myself."
After several minutes of searching, they discovered something unexpected—instead of the prisoner holding area they anticipated, the facility appeared to be an advanced research laboratory. Robotic arms hung from ceiling mounts, partially assembled mechanical bodies lay on workbenches, and holographic displays flickered with complex schematics.
Deadpool frowned beneath his mask. "This doesn't make sense. Our intelligence clearly indicated this was where they were holding captured mutants. Why does it look like Tony Stark's Man Cave instead? Is he building himself robot friends because no one likes him anymore? Wait—is this where the Terminators are born? ARE WE IN THE SKYNET ORIGIN STORY?!"
While Deadpool puzzled over this discrepancy with increasingly absurd theories, Peter suddenly froze. His enhanced senses detected something subtle—a vibration or sound frequency just beyond normal perception. Following this mysterious sensation, he approached a blank section of wall in the far corner.
Carefully, he pressed his ear against the cool surface, focusing intently.
Deadpool watched curiously. "Did you find something, or are you just really into wall-ASMR? Because I gotta tell you, kid, there are better hobbies."
"Maybe. Let me check..." Peter whispered, concentrating on the nearly imperceptible sensations. "Something feels off about this wall."
"That's what she said!" Deadpool immediately blurted before clearing his throat. "Sorry, contractually obligated to make that joke at least once per mission. Arcane, scan!"
Blue light erupted from his suit once more, sweeping across the suspicious section of wall. Unlike before, the scan didn't highlight a specific mechanism, but there was a subtle difference in how the light reflected off this section compared to the surrounding areas.
"What did you find, Spider-Boy? Secret passage? Narnia? The Chamber of Secrets? That sock I lost in 2017?"
Peter shook his head, uncertainty evident in his posture. "I'm not sure exactly, but there's definitely something behind here. Only one way to find out!"
Taking several steps backward, Peter planted his feet firmly on the ground. He drew in a deep breath, clenched his fists until his knuckles cracked, and then exploded forward with all the superhuman strength his enhanced muscles could generate.
"BOOM!"
The impact of his fist against the wall sent shockwaves throughout the entire underground complex. Overhead lights flickered, loose equipment clattered to the floor, and distant alarms began wailing with renewed urgency.
The wall before them emitted a deep, metallic groan—not the sound of crumbling concrete, but the protest of reinforced steel.
As the dust settled, they realized that what had appeared to be an ordinary wall was actually an enormous armored door, now partially dented from Spider-Man's tremendous blow.
"Holy chimichangas with extra guacamole," Deadpool whispered with uncharacteristic awe, before turning to an invisible audience. "Readers, this is the part where the writer builds suspense by not telling you what's behind the door until the next chapter. Classic cliffhanger technique! But between you and me—" he leaned in conspiratorially, "—it's probably something with tentacles. It's ALWAYS something with tentacles."
He turned back to Peter. "What exactly did they need a bunker door that size to keep contained? My wife's attitude? Your sense of moral superiority? The complete collection of Air Bud sequels? Whatever it is, I'm both terrified and weirdly aroused!"
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Support me at [email protected]/goldengaruda and check out more chapter of this or more early access chapter of my other fanfic translation.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~