Choco Taco

July 23, 2014: This time, Deadpool was appeased with ice cream tacos. But next time there will be muchly violence. Featuring Barry Allen and a cameo by X-23.


Harlem is a large neighborhood within the northern section of the New York City borough of Manhattan. Since the 1920s, Harlem has been known as a major African-American residential, cultural and business center. Originally a Dutch village, formally organized in 1658, it is named after the city of Haarlem in the Netherlands. Harlem's history has been defined by a series of economic boom-and-bust cycles, with significant population shifts accompanying each cycle.


Dave the Ice Cream Man

Mood Music:

New York, the city so nice they named it twice. It is a city of hope and freedom, crime and villainy, but mostly, it is a city of people. People who go about their daily lives, living them within the confines of a community, such as Harlem, where Barry Allen finds himself as he walks through the old neighbourhood, eating a bagel. There are a few cars parked on the side of the street, some people sitting on their doorsteps, it is a normal Wednesday afternoon. But Harlem is also a city of crime. There are some people who do it for the thrill, but most do it out of necessity. In one of its many fireescapes, there are two African Americans carrying a television, one's blad, and the other has dreadlocks. Nobody seems to be bothering them, though it does look out of the ordinary.

Of course Laura Kinney noticed the two men with the television on the fire escape. But even if there was a wicked motive behind them doing such a thing… well, in the long run, a television had very little real value in her mind.

Walking unafraid even in someplace like Harlem, Laura was dressed almost entirely in black and silver, a thick leather jacket, dark jeans, combat boots, and a t-shirt advertising some band. Laura had never heard of them, but she enjoyed the design - regardless, she might look like a dark little razor, her hands covered in fingerless gloves.

And onto the sidewalk she steps as well, her eyes fixed upon the back of a different man's head, her green eyes intense on him.

Overcast, with a chance of rain. While the latter hasn't happened, the former most certainly has. Though it's the middle of the day, the city just seems darker than usual with the threat of rain. Sitting by himself, Deadpool occupies an empty bus bench under a broken glass shelter. His uniform red and black like a full body pajama set. Two swords along his back and quite a few weapons, he's quite the walking armory. At least in this part of town no-one would dare bother him. Slouching, he leans forward with arms resting on each leg, as if waiting for something.

If he notices the television being moved, Barry doesn't think anything of it. That would be profiling, and in any event, he's way out of his jurisdiction, not that he ever really does that kind of police work. He's a chemical freak who spends his days behind a desk. As his alter ego on the other hand, perhaps he could do something about it, either helping the men, or stopping it, depending on what they were up to. Just as he was about to notice them, his eyes cast in their direction, something, and someone else catches his attention. A masked man carrying, well, wearing, an assortment of weapons, most highly illegal. For now, he doesn't know he's being followed, but when he abruptly stops in his tracks on the sidewalk, he may find out. He stares at the presumed vigilante, and stutters, "Uhm, oh…" What to do? There's cause to ask the guy for permits for those weapons, but he wouldn't want to confront him alone, and in his public identity, and so he looks around, trying to find an escape where he might be able to change. Damn, too bad they don't have pay phones anymore.

Like Laura probably knew Deadpool, Deadpool might potentially know Laura. A teenaged assassin tended to draw attention, particularly some of the higher profile… jobs that she had done at one point, in another life, but. Laura tended to blend while not blending at all. The man that Laura was stalking eyes Deadpool - and then crosses the street briskly to the other side, Laura's own attention drawn to Deadpool - she frowns, her eyes narrowing at him, a certain tension entering her shoulders.

What the hell could Deadpool be waiting for? It could only be so diabolical that the entire city of New York would be in danger. Surely, no matter where big DeePee is, there's always trouble and possibly mass destruction. What foul plans could he have? A jingle plays down the street, of a familiar tonality. It comes from a white truck, cruising just below the speed limit. As it approaches, Deadpool stands. It takes but a moment for the truck to park in front of the bus stop and open side-doors, an ice-cream menu unfolding as the doors open.

"Heeeey, Dave!" enthuses Deadpool, reaching toward the truck with a fist. The ice cream man at the other end gives DP a brofist and responds, "What'll it be?" To which Deadpool responds, "Ice cream taco, duh."

Well, that was convenient. With the truck covering him, Barry has a means of escape. He finds an ally, does a good once over, trying to make sure that he wasn't followed, there aren't any security cameras pointed in his direction, or anything like that. Once he feels safe, he activates his ring, which ejects an expanding Flash suit. He changes in a red blur, storing his regular clothes somewhere nearby, and runs out of the other side of the ally, doubling back, so that he can join Deadpool next to the ice cream truck, "Ice cream tacos? I'll have one of those too." He didn't even know that ice cream came in taco style. And to the other woman, he offers a kind smile, "How about you, miss? Want something? It's on me." With her frowning, looking so glum, surely ice cream can turn that frown upside down. At least assuming she's not lactose intolerant.

Rude Laura might be, but she seemed entirely unaware of the offer of ice cream taco, giving Deadpool one last kinda odd eye before she crosses the street, after her quarry.

"Oh, hey-heey. It's another red guy. Are you a mutant, too? You're not a communist are you? Of course you're not." Deadpool says reaching up to take his taco of icecream in little wrapper. "Communists don't like ice-cream." Dave, the old man in the ice cream cart fetches another taco and hands it out to Flash. Deadpool, meanwhile, pulls out a fat wad of cash from a pouch on his buckle and hands it over. "Tacos on me. Tacos."

As Flash accepts the neatly wrapped ice cream taco, he eyes the wad of cash, "Thanks, that's awfully nice of you. And no, I'm not a mutant, or a communist." The guy seems friendly enough. Maybe he is a hero. He'll have to check on this guy later, but it would help if he had a name, so with his free hand, he offers his gloved hand, "Where are my manners? I'm the Flash, from Central City. It's nice to meet you… ?" Hoping to get a name he can research. For a guy in a mask, armed to the teeth, Deadpool certainly is a friendly fellow.

Reaching up, Wade digs his fingers under his mask and lifts it up to just below his mouth, revealing the pus-driping, scarred, bloody mess part of his lower face is. Some of this gets on his hand, and just when you might think he's pretty swell, he reaches out to give you a handshake. Oozy. "You ain't heard of me? I'm the merc with a mouth, hahahaha! Deadpool, in case yo momma never told you. Crime fighter and x-man by day, and mercenary by night. Actually, mercenary all the time. You should try it." Opening the taco packet, Deadpool extracts the taco and takes a bite out of it.

"Oh," Barry lets out abruptly, unprepared for the sight that greets him. He wouldn't have been too surprised by the scars, but the fresh blood and dripping pus takes him aback, especially when it gets on his gloves. Deadpool just had to pull the mask before shaking his hand, didn't he? Well, that's easily taken care of. He vibrates his hand after shaking, cleaning it by dislodging the residue that Deadpool left behind. To the naked eye, his hand just gets a little fuzzy for a moment there. "I'm afraid not," he says, as he didn't recognise the man on sight. "Deadpool huh? A crime fighter, X-Man, and a mercenary. That's quite an assortment of occupations you have there." But then Deadpool pulls the rug out from under him, proverbially, "Oh, I don't think so. I do good because it's the right thing to do. I don't seek or expect remuneration, though if anyone truly feels the need, they can always donate to the Flash Foundation. It helps out the community in a variety of ways, but enough business. Thank you for the taco," which he bites into, and gives a positive, "Mmm," sound.

"Oh, hey. -You're- the Flash? Haha! Ha! I would've imagined him to talk faster. You know like one of those 40 year old ADHD computer nerds sitting in their mom's basement drinking 30 cups of coffee a day. Yeah, with the energy drinks and chronic masturbation problems? How does that work out for you anyways? Nevermind, I don't care. No homo. But for real, I wish I had super speed." Deadpool rattles this off, somehow eating taco bites between sentences.

Flash demonstrates, “I-can-talk-faster-when-I-want-to, but why would I? It doesn't help me to get my message across." He listens to what the funny man has to say, but clearly, the guy has issues. After it's all said, he stares blankly, not meaning to, but even his mind has trouble processing all that. He can think at super speeds, but Deadpool is the Merc with the Mouth, and he is a match for anyone. "It's… got its perks, I'll grant you that, but it's not all it's cracked up to be. There's a price to be paid for it as well." He nods solemnly.

Stuffing the last bite of taco in his mouth, Deadpool reaches up and pulls down his mask. Any extra pus and blood flicked off his hand to the sidewalk. "Yeah, yeah. Big power comes big responsibility," mocks Deadpool, putting his hands to his hips, "You sound just like superjerk." He laughs, "Anyways. B.T.W G.T.G. T.T.Y.L." With that he turns and begins walking away.

The Flash still has his own taco, half eaten, but that man, what an oddball he is. So odd in fact, that Flash completely forgot about the numerous weapons he carries, at least until he turns his back on the speedster. With a bite of his taco, he shakes his head, "What a strange fellow." He decides not to confront him about the weapons. As vigilantes go, Deadpool seems harmless towards civilians. He didn't show any aggression, and as a mercenary, he probably only uses them against people who probably deserve it. It's a lot to go on, but as a cop, even a chemical freak cop, he goes with his gut, and he senses that Deadpool is not evil, just… maligned.

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