5541/Tourney: It's kinda like sex, but unarmed

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Tourney: It's kinda like sex, but unarmed
Date of Scene: 11 October 2018
Location: Kairos Island
Synopsis: Deadpool shares with Elektra some of his concerns about the tourney.
Cast of Characters: Deadpool, Elektra
Tinyplot: Tourney


Deadpool has posed:
    The earbuds are not in his ears. Or on the sides of his mask. They are around his neck. Rick Astley blares from them obnoxiously loud. No, just one side. The other side of the earphones is cut, just a wire remains. Deadpool is strolling in a jaunty manner, looking around, as if he were at a flea market examining the wares. In this case, other competitors, their fans, and so forth.

    Things are dandy and fine (with only commentary to himself that doesn't really need to spam this introduction set), until he spots Elektra.

    Then things are ULTRA dandy and EXTREMELY fine. Deadpool spins the lollypop in his mouth once in between forefinger and thumb of left hand, pulls it out like a cigarette, and flicks it away with a ring finger. He lowers his mask (you didn't even know it was up around his nose, did ya? well it was), and prances over to her, a bounce in his step. And then as if realizing he has terrible news, he slows, clasping one hand to his upper chest. "Elektra Slide, we need to talk. And not like, in the 'oh fuck he's breaking up with me' way, because dearheart, I wouldn't do that to you in public like this at your own event," Deadpool announces.

Elektra has posed:
The day was winding down as far as bouts were concerned. There were a couple still slated for the evening, with the remainder to take place on the morrow with the final rounds. Supper was being served at the villa shortly, and many of the more prestigious guests had already made their way there; others to the boat to partake of the fare laid out, and retire to their cabins in comfort; some, though preferred to hang about in odd places about the tournament area and were much more casual about matters.

Elektra herself wasn't interested in a meal, though she supposed she'd have to make an appearance later. For now, though, she'd been perusing the grounds, taking stock of the sights and the guests.

That was until Deadpool showed up. And while she'd been willing to take him seriously earlier, she was now apprised of the fact that the man was utterly ridiculous - if something of a powerhouse.

For a brief moment she considers disappearing, then assesses it wouldn't only be rude, but there aren't rightly enough people or shadows to make a perfect act of that.

Instead, "Deadpool. I knew our love couldn't last. Your gentlemanly nature touches me." Adding, in more serious measures, "You wish to talk? I have time to spare. Shall we walk?"

Deadpool has posed:
    A birdlike tilt of head continues the ridiculous utterness, but the drop of hands to the sides of his hips and flex of spine carries the weird poise of the well tuned physical assassin the merc also is. He slides from Utterly Ridiculous and into Serious Business like a pleased guy in a threesome with some oddly named hookers.

    "Yeah, my nature, and other parts, touch a lot of people, in a lot of ways," beams the mercenary. "I'm probably going to talk. Supposedly I'm really good at it. Depending on your definition of good."

    Then he adapts quickly. "Walkies, sure. I'm off the leash today, though." Cheery. And rotating as if he were in a crisp expensive suit to offer his elbow, head lifted with gentlemanly confidence.

    From the earpiece comes 'Together Forever'. Rick Astley, of course.

Elektra has posed:
There are aspects to the man that tell her all she needs to know about him. Past the mask and the inanity, he was a killer. Perhaps an insane killer (time with him would tell her more about that), but a killer. A well trained one if she read him.

She, herself, walks with the grace and awareness of one who is no stranger to such things. Always with a portion of her attention drawn to her surroundings and any approaching danger.

So far, the weekend had been relatively free of unlooked for danger.

The offer of an elbow, however, does take her by surprise. Were this another setting, it might never have been looked askance at - she'd been to enough parties where such nicities were de rigour, but here? Still, she slips her hand just across the crook of that elbow and allows Wade to escort her on their walk.

"I'd noticed you seem rather proficient with the words. An interesting weapon. I take it that this isn't one of those walks either? I'd be ever so disappointed if it were."

Deadpool has posed:
    The arsenal he's wearing probably also is a hint about the killer part. There's so many things that stab or explode on him or launch a variety of projectiles that it'd be hard to ignore. Sorry, ---difficult to ignore. Save the hard for later.

    If Deadpool is sizing her up in some manner he's doing it while being distracted. He does manage to maintain escorting her with his elbow. For now. While he's keeping his attention on being A Gentleman.

    "Maybe up here on the concrete. The sand gets under my suit and sandpapers me. Less pleasant. Kind of like forgetting to put airholes in your mask and suffocating every few minutes," Deadpool shares.

    "Focus." That was at himself. "There's a big ol' problem. I mean. There's /children/ in this competition. I mean. I'm supposed to beat the fucking snot out of a child, in my round," Deadpool comments, as if horrified. Maybe he is. Even a quick read on it would bring up full honesty and agast quality. "How is this okay with everyone?!"

Elektra has posed:
"Mmmm," Elektra allows. "Costumes do lend to sand in more places. But we both know that's hardly a deterrent to our trade. I'll take your word on the mask business, though." Her own facial covering hardly amounting to a mask at all.

She listens patiently while he speaks of 'children' in the competition, letting him come to the end of a thought before speaking. Though with Wade, the danger of waiting is that he won't end thoughts at all, but carry on blythely.

It might be a measure of his distress that he does allow pauses for Elektra to speak. A thing she does note. He's not trying to bamboozle her.

"They're hardly children, Deadpool. Though speaking of, I do have words I should have with you about those you brought. I am going to presume you understand the irony of your complaint and answer it directly."

She points to a clearing of sorts, and indicates that they should pause there.

"Everyone here as a competitor is deadly in their own way. Many of the guests as well. What you see as a child may very well be a trained assassin." She considers, then allows, "I wasn't quite twelve when I killed my first man. I'd been taking stronger and multiple opponents down for longer than that. Age is hardly a qualifier of ability. You should know that. So, tell me, what is it that is really bothering you?"

Deadpool has posed:
    "/I/ brought my cancer kids to see they can defeat all odds even if they got cancer. That's entirely so majorly different. Nobody's gonna beat them up - except maybe cancer. This kid is like.... I don't know, eleven, tops," Deadpool explains, using his free hand to sort of grip the air as if trying to determine what exactly the age is physically. "Well HEY, so, yeah, I mean, killing them is different. Beating them up for sport is really frowned on," Deadpool explains.

    "If this kid and I were to do consensual sex, it would be statutory rape. How is this DIFFERENT? Yet I'm going to beat him up. What bothers me? I guess I don't need pedophile child-beater on my resume," Deadpool scoffs back.

    "Well. Not /again/." He wrinkles his nose, which shows through the mask, and scratches his cheek with opposite hooked finger. "And that was a lie. So it does TOO bother me. I'm being a really great example and everything here!"

    "So my idea...." Deadpool has a solution, don't worry.

Elektra has posed:
Well, now. When he puts it that way..

At first, Elektra has no words. Her answer takes time to formulate, even if she knows by the end, that he's got 'a solution'.

"I suppose the difference is that sex should always be a consensual act. When power dynamics enter into the matter, consent can not be given. A child is hardly of an age, or of reason, to know what the ramifications of such an act, or allowances, may be."

Nothing but pure observance of that matter. And a rather legal leaning answer to boot.

"You've trained, though I confess I don't recognize what style you employ. Though drunken moneky does rear its ugly head as a possibility. However, rest assured, in any training dojo, you are pitted against not those who match you in age, but those whose skills are comparable. You might be asked to help challenge a weaker opponent, or to match wits against one who is equal, but you will never be set against a rank novice. Not even to prove a point."

The woman almost smiles. Almost. "And unless you're sexually attracted to the youth - and I feel I must protest that there aren't any as young as eleven here, all are in their teens at the very least - then you're in the free and clear."

Elektra chooses not to address the matter of the cancer patients at this point, but does take her own turn at pausing, "Go on. This solution. I'm listening."

Deadpool has posed:
    "Fuck, fuck, shaved monkey licking duck, I used the word 'different' a lot." Deadpool has to pause to count. "One, two. Three. Okay. Three. Not as severe as I thought it was. Unless you count that I just said it when I noticed, which could bring it up to four which is a lot of times to have said that fucking word." Deadpool takes a breath. Holds it. Breaths out in a short huff noise.

    "Anybody touches MY kidlings I will staple their dicks or tits to the fucking ceiling fans in that wash-up room. The one with the pretty cream tile. You know which one? Those ceilings are high, so they'd dangle well. And it's considerate, the clean-up on that tile isn't so awful. I hate cleanup. Wearing red and black helps on that one. I know you feel me on that, yeah?"

    "If he were eighteen maybe there'd be attraction," Deadpool adjusts, suddenly cheeky. "He's not, so I haven't thought about it. So obviously not. Why do people ask me things like that? I'm really not in the sex offender database related to /minors/. It's not all the same fucking thing."

    Irate, Deadpool swings back to his solution, mood swinging rapidly. "They should have a /baby league/! Then my cancer kids could play too!" he says, releasing her arm, to leap back and aside, and splay his arms like the Greatest Showman. A little jazz-hands is added. That Rick Astley is agreeing that he'd 'move heaven and earth' for her maybe helps.

    Maybe not.

Elektra has posed:
Elektra raises a hand in warding off some of the tirade. "Peace. I didn't ask if you were interested. At the very least, any such question was rhetorical. However, I shall remember that prehaps blunt and crass are better with you."

"As for the competitors, I'm fairly certain 16 is the minimum. Unless there are liars amongst the bunch."

The notion of a baby league intrigues. "Interesting," Elektra drawls softly, nodding as she ponders that. "Certainly something to consider for the next Tournament. Though I'd like to let this one come to its natural conclusion before planning another." He does make her laugh then, a soft thing, both amused and disbelieving. "I'm afraid I'd be concerned for your children. Their bodies are fragile enough. This venue might not be the best. But I wonder if something charitable might be set up to accomodate and allow for an event just for them."

Of course, the idea comes late, and short of writing her thoughts down and having them pass on, Elektra really hasn't much she can do about the matter. She's counting hours of life left now. Even if she blythely lies about a future Tournament.

Deadpool has posed:
    "Well, all -- no, I said eighty percent -- fuck it, ALL my winnings are for them. I promised," Deadpool says, snapping his fingers. It's a little muffled, gloves aren't good for finger-snapping by any means. But the intent was there.

    "Sixteen? Really? He's not eleven? I guess that's a little better," Deadpool decides. "Hey, my kids are beasts. They're doing great. Chad is gonna whip his cancer's ass. Or he'll whip his ass cancer. Something. I can't keep track of which one has which cancer, it's all bad. But I'm a living role model. That's something good you can't just replace. I mean, I will when they all die of cancer but UNTIL THEN, hell. I'm not a superhero or anything. But I make a difference." A pause.

    "I said different again. Fuck me. I cannot stop with that word tonight. Still think if a kid can't decide who he fucks, he can't decide who beats his skull in. But hey. Your rules. Still probably means I go easy on the kiddo. Maybe not maximum effort. But I have to, for MY kids... aghhhhh." Deadpool suffers with his crisis a little while, stalking away a few steps.

    "Shit, you know what. Trying /sucks/," he says, in a way that suggests he might stop trying.

Elektra has posed:
Elektra hasn't the heart to tell Wade that there are no winnings from this Tournament. At least not official winnings. The title is the honour of being recognized as the best (for now). However, there are numerous underground betting pools. Those she didn't even try to ban or police, turning a blind eye to what she couldn't stop, and the inevitable nature of humanity.

"You're a good man, Deadpool. I think others underestimate you."

She gives a half smile, something of gentle sympathy for the man. "You could always not have them witnessing the fight. I think I'd prefer that. They don't actually need to see the sorts of violence that are going on here. Your message is good, but perhaps misplaced? Just a thought."

Then she laughs outright, though still softly.

"Trying? Trying to be a hero? Yes, it does suck. I've skirted the edges of that as much as I could and not draw attention to myself. There are those who wouldn't appreciate my efforts at doing less harm." She shrugs. "I'm not sure it matters. A hero is what a hero makes of themselves. You can be what you wish."

Deadpool has posed:
    "Underestimated? Always. Often in bed," Deadpool beams. "Or in the kitchen or on the couch or in the sand that gets in my costume." Right. "People that underestimate me are usually the corpses in the end," Deadpool says, tone upbeat. "And those that don't. I guess I make a lot of corpses," he observes, thoughtful. "So either way doesn't really matter. Fuck, I got distracted. At least I didn't say 'different.' But I'm usually not a good man. The man part. Sometimes you gotta just be a terrible meat popsicle to get something done, huh?"

    Deadpool comes on back to her, tapping his fingers against the front of his Deadpool-sigil belt buckle. "Try, there is no try, padawan. Just full on suck-fest. Maybe worth it, maybe not. I think you should give a double middle-finger to the people that don't appreciate your efforts or non-efforts or whatever you meant." He gives her a thumbs up, instead of flipping the bird.

    "No, I can't be anything. I'm going to be an ugly fuck no matter what. But heroic one? Eh. Maybe to some dumb-as-fuck faith-clinging kids. For a weekend. Baby steps." He yawns inside the mask, rubs his left eye-hole. "Well. Good talks. I'm hungry. Is it tacos for dinner? Do I dare hope?"

Elektra has posed:
Elektra makes a gesture back the way they came. "I'm sure there are tacos. If not, ask at the villa. Tell them Elektra sent you specifically. And Deadpool? do me a favour? When this weekend is over, look up a friend of mine. I think you and he may have words you might wish to share."

She gives an inclination of head, "I should tend to other matters. Daredevil, by the way. The man you're looking for is Daredevil."

And with that, she takes her leave.

Deadpool has posed:
    "Red suit buddy! Yeah, we'll share all over the place!" Deadpool agrees, throwing her a wave. And then folowing her.

    "We're going the same way. But I'll pretend we're separate and done talking so it's more badass."