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Author Topic: MechWarrior With A Mouth: A BattleTech x Deadpool Story  (Read 2262 times)


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MechWarrior With A Mouth: A BattleTech x Deadpool Story
« on: 12 August 2022, 21:41:26 »
Hello there, this is your friendly neighborhood poolboy!  I get to be a freakin’ MECHWARRIOR!  I know, right?  Who would trust me with a Clan omnimech if I can’t be trusted with office supplies?  Well, Clan Wolf did!  Well, BATTLEMASTER (and with help from his loving wife who has no interest in BattleTech at all – the poor woman!) wrote Clan Wolf to let me be a MechWarrior anyway, and I think that’s absolutely cool since he’s one of my biggest fans!  He loves me sooo much that he took the time to write a fanfic just for me!  And he doesn’t write fanfics much, so that says a lot!  He also may have tweaked a few other things with the BattleTech Universe to let me make my mark, which will definitely be in blood and crayon!  This story was influenced by my appearances in comic books such as Deadpool, Cable and Deadpool, and the Deadpool motion pictures, so it’s gonna get corny and gory.  Bring your barf bags and your booze because I present to you:



A crossover by BATTLEMASTER

Oh – hello again! You are probably wondering how I got written into a fanfic on the BattleTech Forum! And you are probably wondering how I got to giving Scientist-General Etienne Balzac an atomic wedgie over a magma pool inside a passable interpretation of Hell, only the Devil took the day off and I am his substitute!  Substitute pay is not that great, but the lives you change (especially this guy’s) make it all worth it! Anyway it all started about a year ago…

Chapter 1 – The Becoming and the Begoing

New Caledonia, Clan Wolf Occupation Zone, Summer 3053

Yep, there I am, Star Captain Wade Winson in the Circle of Equals, fighting a Trial of Refusal I declared to keep my position as MechWarrior and commander of Binary Rogue in the 328th Assault Cluster.  My commanding officer happily accepted the trial, hoping to make an example of a cancer-fighting warrior such as myself, believing that I no longer belonged in a battlemech.  Plus he hated me for my skill and sweet school boy looks.

“Come on Star Colonel, you are just playing!  I bet your mother could play harder, especially with her experience playing with the local laborers!”

I delivered a kick towards Star Colonel Athen Kederk’s stomach, which he managed to deflect.

“How DARE you suggest that I have a mother, freebirth!”

The Star Colonel swung a foot toward my face and I barely dodged it.

“A swing and a miss, strike two!  Your batting average is as bad as your coupling average!  When is the last time you got some, thirty-forty-never?”  I spun around and elbowed him in the side of the face.  I could feel myself losing steam.  I was not in this bad of shape last year!

The Ghost Bear abtakha recovered with a somersault and tried to back-flip a kick into my face.  Instead I clotheslined him in his stomach and he landed flat on his face.  Gosh I was feeling tired!

He hopped right back up.  “Maybe you would not be struck with such a disease if you stopped the lousy jokes!”  He made a jab at my throat but I cartwheeled off to the side and swung a foot at his ankle to try and knock him down, but I missed.  I did not think I could keep this up much longer.

“Going for the throat like a Smoke Jaguar now, quiaff?  I bet Lincoln Osis would love to have you as a lap dog!  Though you would woof and leap instead of –”

Star Colonel Kederk put a fist into the side of my face as I could not dodge it in time, followed with a knee into my nose.  I believed it was just about over for me.


Then he literally kicked my butt, repeatedly.  Yep, foot up the crack.  A steel-toe wedgie.

I barely propped myself up.  “I can do this all day,” I coughed, then promptly collapsed.

“The Trial is over, Star Captain.  Be thankful you are keeping your rank.  The Clan will be keeping your Gargoyle though.  Enjoy your pitiful life as solahma!”

“There is a bright side to everything, Star Colonel.  At least I got some with your boot.  What did you get?” I quipped.

“I got rid of you, Star Captain.”

I lost.  In my weakened state I was shown that I could not continue as a MechWarrior. Fortunately I was still a Star Captain. Unfortunately, I then became solahma Star Captain Wade Winson, and ended up in the garrison on New Caledonia as a grunt. A fantastic grunt, but still a grunt.

Even though I should have been considered a dead warrior at that point, I kept receiving treatment for my cancer so that I could die gloriously in combat one day – at least that is what Scientist Luke told me. And one day, he gave me a different treatment.

Now there I am strapped to a metal bed. Very medieval – I left them a two out of five Daggerstars on Travelocity. For several days I was given injections that turned my body into a cancer-killing weapon – and it turns out also a weapon in general, an ugly weapon in general. Like a burn victim that never got better – just stayed burned without the cool fire like the Human Torch.

Scientist Luke was very happy with my progress.  I was not.

“WHAT HAVE YOU DONE TO ME?!” I yelled at the smiling scientist.

“I have cured you, Star Captain. Your cancer is gone and you are stronger than ever, probably as strong as an Elemental. Unlike the others, you have a new a chance to fight and finally die as a warrior, but for the survival of The Society!”

And that is when the voice started talking to me.

You will want to kill him, and all the staff in the building, and take a copy of their mainframe data.

“Who is that?”

It is me, Wade. I mean – it is you, Wade. I mean – ugh just listen to me! I read ahead in BATTLEMASTER’s story and skimmed The Wars of Reaving. This guy and everyone here is bad #$%&! news!

“What story?  What are you talking about?”

Scientist Luke had a puzzled look on his face. “What are you talking about, Star Captain?”

“You do not hear the other voice in this room, quineg?”

Wade, you are a character in a story!  You will live, but you will still have to work for it!

“You mean my life is pointless and at the whim of a crazy writer?  All of what I have done to become a MechWarrior?  All the pain and suffering through combat and cancer?”

Neg, your life is NOT pointless!  Keep going for the readers – try to give them a good story, give them hope.  Inspire them to be like you!  Okay maybe not be exactly like you, but kind of like you!  After all they are cheering for you and like some comedy mixed with death and giant stompy robots…  Though there may be few battlemechs in this fanfic.

And that is when I realized that I really was a character in a fictional universe.  Little did I know then how much of a BattleTech nerd I would become.  HAH, a nerd in a nerd’s story.  Willy Wonka would Trial of Possession the #$%&! out of that!

Boy I looked really confused there, and so did Scientist Luke.  Then it looked like I had an epiphany.  I had an epiphany.  But then Luke ended up looking permanently confused as I snapped the Elemental-grade restraints on the bed, and then his neck like a Steel Viper strike. Wow!  I did not skip arm day over the past few days!

Well, so long Scientist Luke.  I could not have happened to a nicer guy.  Or maybe I could have.  That is okay though for I had other important things to do!

I did not skip leg day either as I snapped the restraints around my feet and ankles just as easily.  I quickly put on my BDU and set off to kill the building’s staff.

I went room by room and killed each scientist I found with my bare -

“Hold on a sec,” I said as I reached for the box of rubber gloves on a side table in the first exam room.  The attending scientist and patient were wondering what I was doing in there getting gloves, and probably why I had to kick down a door to get them.

“Got to be safe when conducting a very physical exam,” I said as I put the pair of gloves on.  Then I delivered a savage uppercut to the scientist’s jaw, killing him instantly.

And some I killed with with some exam room furniture.  Many scientists lay dead with snapped necks and jaws kicked into their brains.  Some had chair marks on their heads and others became one with the exam table – make of that what you will, but I was very creative with it.  They really did not put up much of a fight.  It almost felt dishonorable to be doing this, but it seemed to serve a higher purpose that my head told me about. 

There were a lot of frightened patients too.  I am not sure if they were frightened by my looks or that I killed their attending scientist in brutal, sometimes gory fashion.  Maybe my edgy commentary during the deed scared them.  Maybe all three?  Do not worry, though – I assured them that the voice in my head told me everything would be okay.

Finally I came to a hallway with a door at the end of it guarded by a pair of unarmored Elementals.  They each had a modern Mauser assault system and stood stone-faced, dedicated to guarding that door.  As I walked up to them I noticed neither of them had insignia on their jumpsuits.

You need to get past this door to get the mainframe data, and kill everyone in that room.

As I got closer to the door the Elementals aimed their weapons at me.  I put my hands up and started talking to them.

“Wait!  Maybe you can help me out!  Is this the laboratory?  I really need to Hell like a Pee Horse!”

The Elementals lowered their weapons a little bit and gave me a very puzzled look.  One of them glanced at the other and then looked at me.

“No, Star Captain.  This is an exam room.  Turn around and leave.”

“Well, I guess I will go right here!”

After unzipping my pants in an exaggerated manner, I delivered a shin kick to one of the big guards.  He fell to the ground with a yell and dropped his Mauser.  He writhed in pain while gripping his shin.  I must have broken his leg pretty badly.

I simultaneously grabbed the other Elemental’s Mauser and delivered a vicious buttstroke to her jaw, knocking her to the floor as well.  (I love that word, stroke!  Ohhhh how do these parentheses sound?)  She was down but not out, especially as she grabbed my ankle and flung me into the wall where I smacked the back of my head against it – I was pretty sure I cracked my skull.  That was not before I grabbed the Mauser the other Elemental dropped on the floor.

I collapsed to the floor with a massive headache and pretended that I was knocked out, but I was still holding the Mauser.  The Elemental was missing some gritted teeth as she picked me up by the back of my neck.  But that was just fine because…

“Hey big girl!  SMILE and do NOT blink for the flash!” and the Mauser’s laser bored a hole through the bottom of her jaw and through her forehead.  She dropped like a sack of bricks, and she did not blink either, even with all the cranial smoke.  She dropped me too.  It was when I landed that I realized that my headache was gone and the back of my head was round again.  Wow I am a lot tougher than I remember!

The other Elemental was still writhing in pain on the floor.  I felt bad for him, so I knelt down next to him to help.

“Hey buddy, it looks like your leg really hurts.  But do not worry – Doctor Winson is in!”  And with that I delivered a strong arm-shattering karate chop to the arm diagonal to his broken leg.  He started yelling in pain about that.

“Now your leg does not hurt as bad, does it?”

As the living Elemental still laid on the floor in pain, I slung one Mauser over my shoulder and held the other one while opening the door, only to reveal another door behind it.

“OH COME ON!  Really?  A door behind a door?  What is this, a Daft Punk song?”  I banged on the heavy steel door with my fist, frustrated.  “Where do you lead?  I need something MORE!”

The Elemental on the floor gained some composure and spoke.

“I can open the door with its retinal scanner.  Help me up and I will let you in.”

He has a good reason to not like those scientists.

I considered for a moment.  “You do not like those scientists, quiaff?”

“Aff, I hate them a lot more than you, Star Captain.  They took my family from me and I want revenge for that.”

“Hold the phone – an Elemental with a family?”

He was a Warrior Caste test-down who ended up as a laborer.  He eventually made a family, wife and kids and all.

“Ohhh, that makes sense now!  Maybe we can make him a sidekick or something, like Sonic and Tails, only without the butt-copter thing.”

“Uh, yes?  And my name is Tom.  Why are you talking to yourself?”

I looked at him seriously.  “I am on a mission from ROB.”  And with that he hopped right up, which surprised me.

“Wait a sec – you were faking your injuries this entire time?”

“Sort of, Star Captain.  Your attacks were painful, but I really did not want to fight you, especially for the savashri behind that door.”
“Well, that is disappointing!  I really thought I broke your leg there!  And maybe your arm!  I guess I am no Superman.”  I am pretty strong now but apparently not that strong.  But with that he shrugged and used the retinal scanner to unlock the door.

“Let us go forth and kill them all!” Tom bellowed with his head-sized fists in the air.

“Then you should have this,” and I gave Tom back his Mauser.  We nodded to each other and I opened the door, both of us entering with the Mausers ready.

Behind the door was a lab…  With clowns.  Lots of clowns.  Probably about thirty of them.  Among the test equipment and projects the central large monitor screen in the room said “HAPPY CLOWN DAY!”.  Evidently their dress-up day theme this week was clowns.

They didn’t notice us until I lost it.

“I…  #$%&!…  HATE…  CLOWNS!” I yelled.  They all turned to look at us for a moment, then I charged at them shooting with Tom following behind me, with your favorite angry thrash metal song playing in my head.  Gosh I could not help myself – I really hate clowns!  The face paint, the stupid comedic joy they bring to others, such terrible beings!  Several of them dropped dead on the floor from my laser fire and others scampered to safety and drew weapons of their own.  A shootout ensued.

“DIE!!!  DIE DIE DIE DIE #$%&! DIE!!!” I yelled throughout the fight.

Laser beams and bullets flew throughout the lab as the clowns tried to kill us and we tried to kill them.  We put a heavy lab table on its side and used it for cover to shoot from.  I had a lot better aim than them and many of their colorful heads developed more colorful holes than they were born with.  Tom’s aim?  Well, he was a Warrior Caste test-down, so we will leave it at that.

I saw an opening and hopped up over the table, jumped onto and off of a console, and landed on one of the joyous creatures, cracking her skull open on the floor while simultaneously ramming my Mauser’s muzzle through the face of another clown and firing at the same time.  I broke into a run across the lab shooting the entire time, gunning down every clown I saw.  Every so often I noticed a slight pinch either on my arm, neck, or butt, like getting hit by a BB gun.  Not enough to give me any trouble though, but it was weird.

Meanwhile Tom was ambushed, but he managed to spin around and slightly caved in a clown’s face with a punch, leaving happy-clown-face make-up transfer on his fist, almost like a fist puppet.  That clown’s partner tried to chop at Tom with a machete, but ended up getting his arm broken and eviscerated by his own blade.
Finally the shooting stopped, only because I stopped shooting a couple minutes after the clowns did.  About thirty clowns lay like a pool of dead on the floor, in blood, guts, and other body parts.

Hmmm, a “Dead Pool”.  That might be useful later.

“STAR CAPTAIN, BEHIND YOU!” Tom called across the lab as I felt multiple pinches in my back that felt really funny.  I back-kicked my attacker in the groin, spun around and delivered a punch to the side of his face, disarmed him of his combat knife, and flipped him over onto his back onto the ground, dislocating his shoulder in the process.  The last clown in the lab was clearly alive and in pain as I looked at him.

With surprise I recognized the clown through his make-up as none other than Star Colonel Athen Kederk.  I knelt down to speak to him.  Tom checked the rest of the lab for survivors.

“Why hello there Star Colonel!  No wonder I hated you so much – you were a closet clown this entire time!  What is your stage name?  Bozo?  Krusty?  Nicolai Malthus?”

“Well Star Captain, you are certainly much stronger now.  And alive – the way I was stabbing you should have left you bleeding to death on the floor!”

I looked at the blood-soaked knife laying on the floor near us.  It was a big serrated blade like what John Rambo carried around.  He stabbed me multiple times with that?

“With clowns in the vicinity I automatically draw the Berserker Warrior card, guaranteeing plus two attack and preventing one damage.”

“What?”  The Star Colonel stared blankly at me.  He was not familiar with the BattleTech CCG apparently.  He shook his head and continued.

“Anyway, I deliberately prolonged your life, Star Captain.  The Society needs soldiers – super soldiers to change the hierarchy of the Clans for the better.”  Athen was smiling proud.  “The geneticists in this lab recently developed a serum that would activate any mutant genes one carried, which we tested on dying cases like you.  Some of them developed claws and tails, some of them could turn any color – even invisible!  But they all died in the end from their ailment.  You, though?  You survived!  And you seem to have rapid healing abilities, very useful indeed!  After all, us warriors are fit for only one thing – combat.  Do you not see that Clan governance and progress is best left to the scientists?  Only we can correct Kerensky’s –“

“WILL YOU JUST SHUT UP?” I interrupted.  Then I shot him through the head to really make him listen.

I was soooo bored with his villain monologue.  And I hated him.  And I hated that he was a closet clown.  No wonder I #$%&! hated him so much.  I shot him a few more times, enough to lase his head in half.  I really hated this guy!  Well at least now you know what happened to him after Tukayyid.

Tom returned from he lab sweep.  “Holy crap Star Captain!  Are you okay?  You are absolutely covered in blood and holes!”

I looked down at myself and saw that my BDU was soaked in blood – mostly my own – and in holes and scorch marks from bullets and lasers.  Tom went around my back and noted eight knife stab holes in my clothing that should have resulted in fatal wounds.  But I felt around my body and felt no wounds, just my own wrinkly, bumpy skin.  I was in no pain either.  During this the voice in my head consulted me.

Consider this Wade, the scientists made you effectively invincible!  Nothing can kill you!  You will never die!

So I will never die in glorious combat?  (I finally internalized my communication with the voice in my head.)

So what?  Do you not like combat, quiaff?

I was born and bred for this, trained for it since my decanting.

The Star Colonel said you were the only one to live to take advantage of the serum’s benefits, so you have no competition either.  This story can truly be your own!  You can make a difference in this galactic mess!

Seyla! (I agreed.)

Now let us pull the data from the main computer here and ransack the place.  We should blow it up too.

“Star Captain, there are no other survivors but us here,” Tom reported.

“Please Tom, call me Wade.  It is way easier for BATTLEMASTER to type instead of formal rank all the time.”

The Elemental looked a little confused when I said that.  “I will get used to that.  And I will also get used to calling you Wade… Wade.  By the way, your fly is still unzipped.”

I looked down and realized that Tom was right – I forgot to zip it up before entering clown combat!

“I thought you were crazy, but now I see your nuts!” said Tom.

“Zip it, Tom!” I said, which made my open fly situation kind of awkward.  “You will get your funny lines later!”  I zipped my fly and continued.

“Did you find anything useful here?”

“I found a bunch of dead clowns, empty flash drives, full flash drives, a couple power armor suits, and a bunch of weapons and explosives.”

“Good, where is the armor?  We should not leave here looking like this – big blood stains tend to lead to questions, and we can probably benefit from the extra strength from the suits.”

Tom cocked his head in the direction of the parked suits and we walked that way, stepping over the clown corpses.  The suits looked familiar.  One was the typical Elemental battle suit, with a battle claw on one arm and a semi-portable autocannon on the other arm, though it looked bigger and had three barrels on it.  The backpack looming over the shoulders did not have the traditional missile tubes, but eight holes where each missile would go, almost like a machine gun cluster of some kind.

There was a smaller suit that looked like the old Nighthawk power armor, except the armor looked a little…  Different.  Both this one and the Elemental suit were plugged into wall chargers which showed they were ready to go.  They each had typewritten manuals which conveniently had a section that showed the parts and munitions needed for them.
“I get the big one,” declared Tom.

“No kidding!” I replied as we suited up.  “Let us find the ammunition for your suit, pull the data from the computers here, and set ALL the explosives with a timer.  We will blow this place to kingdom come!”

So we set to work finding the ammunition for Tom’s suit and set up the explosives.  Once we had our loot together, we set the timer for ten minutes and got outside.  We were about to run away when Tom asked an important question:

“Hey, what about the patients still inside?”

I stopped and facepalmed – or what could pass as a facepalm in a Nighthawk suit.  Three minutes had passed since we set the timer and we still had to get out of there.

“UGH – we really should get them out of there.  This is not their fight, it is ours.  Let us hide our loot behind those bushes over there and get to work.  We have about six minutes to pull this off!”

We hid our loot and ran inside, setting off the fire alarm and running throughout the building, fully clad in our battle suits yelling for everyone to get out.  Boy that must have been a sight watching Tom’s 1-ton butt sprint down the hallways!  Fortunately we did not find many patients left in our very last-minute sweep, and we even managed to carry a few out who were not very mobile.  Most of them were solahma warriors who were getting treated for disease or injuries.

Once we got everyone out and away from the building, we grabbed our loot and ran as fast as we could.  Not a minute later, KABOOM and the building partially collapses.  At least the secret lab was destroyed.

We stopped behind an abandoned building for a minute to consider our next steps.  I knew I could not go back to the garrison barracks, which was okay because I only had a pair of swords and pistols there – they could always be replaced.  Tom probably wanted to go on a mission to get his family back.  That was when I got an idea.

“Follow me.  I know a merchant who can help us out.  He owes me a favor anyway.”  And we took off through back lots to get to our next destination.
« Last Edit: 12 August 2022, 21:44:03 by BATTLEMASTER »
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Re: MechWarrior With A Mouth: A BattleTech x Deadpool Story
« Reply #1 on: 13 August 2022, 00:22:34 »
This is f***ing hilarious.

You really managed to capture the Merc-with-a-Mouth's attitude...


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Re: MechWarrior With A Mouth: A BattleTech x Deadpool Story
« Reply #2 on: 13 August 2022, 13:54:49 »
 :clap: :clap: :clap:
"For the Angel of Death spread his wings on the blast, And breathed in the face of the foe as he passed:And the eyes of the sleepers waxed deadly and chill, And their hearts but once heaved, and for ever grew still!"

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Re: MechWarrior With A Mouth: A BattleTech x Deadpool Story
« Reply #3 on: 13 August 2022, 19:00:18 »
Very well played sir, keep it going.
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Re: MechWarrior With A Mouth: A BattleTech x Deadpool Story
« Reply #4 on: 13 August 2022, 19:24:23 »
I'm glad you all like it!  It's an idea I've had for a very long time.  I have a few more chapters left, which I'll post after my wife reads them.  She may have no interest in BattleTech, but she's a Deadpool fan too :)
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Re: MechWarrior With A Mouth: A BattleTech x Deadpool Story
« Reply #5 on: 13 August 2022, 19:50:48 »
That's definitely a plus, and I look forward to more!  :thumbsup:


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Re: MechWarrior With A Mouth: A BattleTech x Deadpool Story
« Reply #6 on: 16 August 2022, 19:43:57 »
I apologize - proper introductions are in order:

DEADPOOL (Star Captain Wade Winson) is a Trueborn Warrior of Clan Wolf and former MechWarrior on a mission from ROB.  He earned the Winson bloodname and led Binary Rogue from a Gargoyle omnimech in the 328th Assault Cluster in Alpha Galaxy at the Battle of Tukayyid after the previous Star Captain was wounded. Wade eventually fought a losing a battle with cancer which resulted in the loss of his position as MechWarrior as well as his Gargoyle.  He is going to take on The Society as revenge for their evil policies and messing up his pretty face, despite his victory over cancer and the superhuman abilities he was granted.  He will use his personal weapons training, acrobatics, higher-than-Elemental-grade strength, enhanced healing factor, and distracting banter to his advantage when dealing with the wretched egg heads.  He also acquired a really cool-looking red and black Nighthawk Mark 35 suit he stole from a bunch of dead clowns – yes, they really were clowns!  (Fun Fact: He is one of 53 warriors who succeeded in the Wolf Rite in Clan Wolf’s Alpha Galaxy, single-handedly killing a pack of Strana Mechty wolves with a combination of physical prowess, martial arts expertise, and skills with a knife and underwear.)

TOMCAT (Tom of the Tutuola Bloodhouse) is a Trueborn Elemental Laborer of Clan Wolf who tested out of the Warrior Caste due to his poor handling with ranged weapons.  He is on a mission for himself after The Society destroyed his farm and took his family – his wife and three children – hostage, and forcing him into their service as a facility guard.  He accidentally became Wade Winson’s sidekick when Wade went on a murderous rampage through the disguised Society facility Tom was guarding.  Tomcat helped Wade kill all the personnel within and looted and blew up the hidden lab.  Tomcat’s deep hatred for The Society along with his size, strength, and brass knuckles will be unleashed upon the evil scientists.  He also has a prototype Elemental battle suit like those seen on The Wars of Reaving cover, stolen from the same clowns (literally) Wade got his armored suit from.  (Fun Fact: Tom nearly won his Trial of Position and the rank of Star Commander in an alleged Grand Melee which occurred when he clumsily dropped a loaded semi-portable autocannon that went off and killed everyone in the arena except for himself.  It took a week for the Clan Council determine that clumsiness wasn’t a Grand Melee trigger, and thus he was booted from the Warrior Caste.)
« Last Edit: 16 August 2022, 20:01:11 by BATTLEMASTER »
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Re: MechWarrior With A Mouth: A BattleTech x Deadpool Story
« Reply #7 on: 18 August 2022, 18:31:28 »
Chapter 2 – Preparation Hotel

Tom and I are on the run, having blown up a secret lab belonging to The Society and killed Star Colonel Athen Kederk, one of their collaborators (and evil closet clown).  We made off with some loot and a whole bunch of sciencey data that might as well be Tetatae to us, but returning to our homes is not an option, especially if we are now on someone’s #$%&! list!  It could be The Society, the Watch, Santa’s naughty elves, who knows?  With no where else to go, I believe it is a good idea to run to the mobile home of a friend of mine, Jerry.  You see, Jerry is a Merchant, and a very good one at that.  If you need whatever he will get you whatever.  He is a slippery fellow too, but he has friends like me to help with that.  For that he has earned the nickname “Weasel”.

New Caledonia, Clan Wolf Occupation Zone, Summer 3053 (about an hour later)

Tom and I hauled our loot to the garage door of Weasel’s temporary home.  It was actually a tactical tractor-trailer truck with an expansible semi-trailer van that sat low to the ground for easy loading.  It was like a big toy hauler camper with a garage in the back.  His role demanded that he move around sometimes, so his home went with him.  Tom stood watch over the loot while I went to the front door and rang the bell.  The camera on the door bell started talking.

“Who goes there?”

“Weas, it is me, Wade.  I need your help.  I have some stuff here we need to hide too – please open your cargo door.”

Weasel of course could not tell it was really me in my Nighthawk suit, making him uneasy.

“How do I know it is really you and not a Watch operative?”

“I used my Gargoyle to help you load a truck with boxes of podded weapons, which were actually boxes of prosthetics so one of the Free Guilds could make their own Clanopian cat girls.  You owe me for that still, despite me sneaking a strap-on tail and cat ears out of one of the crates.”

There was a moment of silence as Weasel considered what I said.

“One of the merchants I dealt with mentioned a missing set of ears and a tail.  Alright Wade, I will open the door.  But you owe me for the stolen merchandise.  We can work it out though.”

Weasel opened the door and Tom and I dragged the loot into the garage.  Tom had to be extra careful to not damage the garage ceiling since his suit barely cleared the top of the opening.  Making sure no one was watching, Weasel closed the door.

“What is in the boxes?  Raid someone’s – GREAT FATHER’S GHOST WHAT HAPPENED TO YOUR FACE?!”

I took off my suit’s helmet and started doffing the rest of the armor as Weasel was asking his questions.

“Some late Star Colonel #$%&! head got some late scientist $%&#! head to mess up this adorable face in the name of SCIENCE!  Which cured my cancer and gave me super powers.”

“I am not sure that looking like a raisin is worth that.  I mean, what super powers did you get?”

“Well, I can beat cancer, beat up stuff better than an Elemental can, and beat bullet, laser, and stab wounds.  Oh and I can beat death.”

“At that point I removed the torso armor and Weasel lost his lunch on the floor upon seeing the blood and weapon holes covering the front of my BDU.  Thankfully he did not vomit on my new armor or my loot.”

“What the hell Wade?  I can hear you,” coughed a bent-over Weasel.

“I am not talking to you, I am talking to the reader,” and I point toward you.

“The what?”

“Never mind.”

Keep internalizing the narration, Wade.  You will just confuse the other characters.

Tom was also in the process of doffing his battle suit.

“Where did you find the Elemental?” asked Weasel.

“I am Tom.  I was enslaved by The Society to guard the lab Wade and I just blew up.”

Weasel did not like hearing that.  But I thought something was funny.

“HA HA!  Tom, Weasel’s real name is Jerry!  Like the cat and mouse cartoon, Tom and Jerry!  You get it?”  Both of them stared at me blankly and I scuffed the ground with my boot and gave a shrug.  “Well, BATTLEMASTER thought it was funny.”

“Did you say ‘The Society’?” asked Weasel.  “I know some merchants who deal with those scientists, and they get into some pretty bad stuff like human trafficking, slavery – I have heard they even got into cloning legendary warriors.  That is some bad juju you brought in here.”

“They took my family hostage and I intend to get them back,” said Tom.  “I plan to do what ever damage I can to make that happen!”

“And so will I, Tom”, I agreed.  “Which is why we need your help, Weas.  We are going to need guns – lots of guns.  And swords.  Maybe guns that shoot swords too.  The big battle suit over there uses some ammo that is not common in the Wolf Touman, probably because it goes to a prototype weapon.  We brought the ammo boxes we could for it but have no more.  Have a look in this box – do you know if these bullets are made in the Inner Sphere?”

Weasel took a look at the ammunition in the box.  “I may be able to source these bullets from FedCom space.  They sure love their autocannon, like putting a battlemech on their autocannon that already has another autocannon on it.”

“The manual says the gun on the arm is some kind of super-heavy autocannon, a step up from the typical semi-portable autocannon models I trained with years ago before washing out of the Warrior Caste,” elaborated Tom.  “The backpack uses a small coilgun-style system to rapidly fire smaller bullets like those used in the standard semi-portable machine gun, but with multiple stationary gun tubes.  The book names it the ‘Fusillade System’.”

“Pfft, that is a stupid name,” I remarked.  “Those egg heads should have saved that for something else, like a one-shot flexible tactical missile system that can fit on protomechs.”

“…” said everyone else in the room.

“Well it is going to cost some to get the bullets here, and take some time, maybe a month,” Weasel said.  “How are you going to pay for it?”

“How about this?”  I produced a blood-stained flash drive from my BDU pocket.

“What is that?”

“This is a flash drive containing everything we could pull off the mainframe in the lab we blew up.  It probably includes the recipe for the stuff that turned me into the newest hairless Muppet.  Maybe you will find something on there to expand your business with.”

Weasel considered for a moment.

“Alright, but wash that off first.  I do not want to get super hero cooties or something.”

“Do not worry, there is nothing I have that you can get,”  I replied.

“Hmmm, there is a matter of your identity.  If The Society, or the Watch, do not think you are dead, they will come looking for you,” Weasel advised.

“That is why we came here.  Who knows who is going to pay me a nighttime visit at the barracks, and not for a furplay Wolf coupling.”

“You do that?”

“Only those who made it through the Wolf Rite.  Hooo boy Ulric Kerensky sure parties hard!”

“Well if you are going to be like a super hero, you might as well have a super name, like Slayride, Brainburner, or Clanner Samurai - “

“Or Scientist Killer!” Tom suggested enthusiastically.

“Or I can take all those names and pretend I am Jennifer Winson.”

“Huh?” both Tom and Weasel said with confusion.

“Jennifer Winson was an assumed name for an operative who went by other names and was probably a Cameron heiress,” I stated.

“Wade, you are an idiot,” replied Weasel.

They do not actually know about Jennifer Winson’s real puzzle story, Wade.

“Well DUH!” I replied out loud to my consciousness, only Weasel and Tom thought I was just agreeing with them that I am an idiot.  Then my consciousness hit me with something more important.

Remember when you were at the lab standing in a pool of dead scientist clowns?  Remember how I said that might be useful?  Pool.  Dead.  DEADPOOL!

“Deadpool,” I said to my companions.  “Star Captain Deadpool.”

My companions stared blankly for a couple seconds then shook their heads.

Just stick with Deadpool, Wade.

“Alright, just Deadpool then.  Let us make some #$%&! chimichangas!”

Now cue the montage of us getting ready for our journey to kill everyone in The Society.  Hear the Deadpool song from the film, quiaff?  Do not worry, I totally did not ask Disney for non-permission to use it. 

There I am painting my Nighthawk armor red and black like all Deadpools should.  Yep, no leather tights this time – the gimp look is taking a hiatus.  But that is is okay since I always thought it would be cool to have a suit like Tony Stark made, only with a JARVIS that sounds like Bea Arthur.  And this is a MechWarrior saying that about infantry armor!  Though my Gargoyle’s Betty sounded like Bea Arthur too.  I even installed an LCD overlay on the outside of the helmet's facemask so that the suit can convey some kind of emotion, like that raised eyebrow thing everyone loves.

Tom is also painting his Elemental suit, but in gray with a white “belly” and white letters saying “TOMCAT” painted on one shoulder.  He might have been enjoying the holovids of the Tom and Jerry cartoon Weasel had procured a bit much.  But instead of mouse traps, he had enough gun to turn a warehouse-full of walking blood bags into, well, just blood.

Here is a scene with us sparring in our suits.  He is a little bit rusty with the big battle suit but is still able to throw me in my Nighthawk suit across Weasel’s back yard even with just the one claw and none on the other arm.  I am able to knock him over a few times.  It turns out this Nighthawk suit has enough strength to knock the larger Elemental suit to the ground with a running tackle. 

And there we are learning how to use our battle suit jump jets.  I was never trained in battle suit combat, but my Gargoyle had them.  Okay, that makes me as qualified at suit jets as a laborer trying to mend a wounded warrior.  But I have flown before – intentionally.  Tom’s prior battle suit training helps me a bit, but I still end up in the trees.  Yep, I came down with leaves and branches stuck to my armor like I was Groot.  I almost caused a power outage, coming very close to tearing down some power lines and a pole.  That would not get anyone’s attention at all.

There we are hosing the mud and grass off our suits.  I get silly and spray Tom in the butt.  He returns the favor and a water fight ensues.  Weasel walks out back to see what is going on and we stop spraying each other for a few seconds with awkward looks on our faces.  Then we both start spraying Weasel.

Finally we are sitting on the floor of Weasel’s living room – Tom cannot fit in any of the furniture.  Weasel comes out wearing a Santa hat towing a pallet jack behind him with lots of goodies inside!  What can there be?

“Oh boy oh boy oh boy!” I exclaim excitedly.  “What did I get Weasel Claus?”

I opened up a couple boxes.

“WOO HOO new katanas!  And machine pistols!  And – wow brand-new Mausers!”  I joyously twirl a pistol in one hand and a katana in the other.

Tom got his battle suit ammunition with plenty more in the garage to stop a Galaxy-worth of personnel with.  He also got a wicked pair of brass knuckles – just in case someone needed the last thing going through their mind to be their eyes and nose.  It was truly a killer Christmas in July.

Now it is time for briefing day.  It took a month but we got there!  Weasel examined the flash drive’s contents and found the locations of a bunch of sites belonging to The Society.  He took great care in doing this, opening the drive on a computer with no communication hardware in case files on the drive broadcast its whereabouts.  Weasel had a star map up on a monitor with highlighted systems containing Society sits.  But I will not tell you where they are – it is a secret!  (Psst…  The secret is that BATTLEMASTER is too lazy to do the research or even make stuff up, but less hooting and more shooting, quiaff?) 

The bottom line is that I want to nail the head of all this: Scientist-General Etienne Balzac of Clan Jade – whoa waitaminute – Balzac?  BALL SACK?  HAHAHAHAHA!!!  I cannot believe anyone would pick such an honor name despite what it sounds like!  Let me guess – his number one is Biggus Dickus and number two is Incontenentia Buttocks!  Oh that is great!  These guys really cannot be that hard to beat, quineg?

Anyway Weasel made arrangements for transportation for Tom and I with one of the Free Guilds.  They will take us where ever we want to go within their regular cargo runs, along with our gear.  He also got us a cargo truck to live in and allow us to move around planet-side incognito.  It is big enough to allow us to suit up for our work and equipped to maintain our suits and weapons.  This is all really a convenient way to keep the story going in a short time frame.

We are about to board the dropship, and Weasel is seeing us off.

“Good luck, warriors.  I would go with you, but I do not want to,” he said.

“Wait a second – you stole that line from the first Deadpool film!” I accused.

He has not seen the Ryan Renolds film, Wade.  It does not even exist in this universe!

“You are not a movie star yet, Wade.  But if they make a holovid of your journey I will be sure to sell it!”  Ahh Weas, ever the merchant.

“And Tom, when you get your family back, tell your kids Uncle Jerry said hi,” Weasel added.

“My sibkin are probably dead by now, so I would happily make you an honorary sibkin, even though you are small,” Tom replied with a smile.

“Only small compared to you big guys, big guy,” replied Weasel with a big-little fist bump.  “Good hunting!”

We board the old Manatee dropship and boost to orbit, on our way to a very fun, violent adventure!
« Last Edit: 18 August 2022, 19:01:48 by BATTLEMASTER »
Trombone Player, Lego Enthusiast, Engineer
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"You better stand back, I'm not sure how loud this thing can get!"
If you like Lego, you'll like my Lego battlemech projects!


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Re: MechWarrior With A Mouth: A BattleTech x Deadpool Story
« Reply #8 on: 18 August 2022, 18:49:54 »
He already established the Society is a bunch of clowns, and he's SURPRISED at Balzac's name?  :D


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Re: MechWarrior With A Mouth: A BattleTech x Deadpool Story
« Reply #9 on: 19 August 2022, 09:33:56 »
It is one of those unfortunate names to be sure.


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Re: MechWarrior With A Mouth: A BattleTech x Deadpool Story
« Reply #10 on: 24 August 2022, 12:01:55 »
Chapter 3 - Try Saying Slaughter Without Laughter

Various Planets Through Various Occupation Zones, Fall 3053 through Summer 3054

I now present to you a bloody, gory montage of Tom and I killing a bunch of bad guys!  If you cannot handle reading such things then I suggest closing your eyes and never opening them again.  Just make sure you are sitting when you do that – walking with closed eyes is dangerous!  And by the way – we found a couple extra suit features in the manuals that will help us out in our quest!

“WHERE IS BALL SACK?” I yell as I decapitate the guy I was asking.  “I asked three of you so far but you all keep dying!”  The Nighthawk suit made it really easy to physically permanently deform whomever I fought, whether it was with my swords, boots, or hands.  Meanwhile Tomcat is covering my backside and used his battle claw to casually crush the head of a guard who got too close to him.  He is excited that he finally gets to shoot his battlesuit’s guns today.
The last guard called in reinforcements.  I dropped down from the top of the little guard shack and caught him off…  guard.  “WHERE THE HELL IS BALL SACK?” I asked just as I blew his head apart with one of my pistols.  “If he only had a brain!”  I shrugged and motioned to Tomcat to continue on our way.

Tom and I took off down the corridor and very shortly encountered a point worth of soldiers, a combination of regular grunts and unarmored Elementals.
“Hey, the party is here!  Wish I brought some games with me!” I remarked, and they started shooting at us.

We took cover behind a ferrocrete barrier and Tom finally got a chance to try out one of the suit’s gun systems.
“I got this, Poolboy,” Tomcat assured me.  From behind cover and using a built-in camera to aim, the automatic coilgun array in his suit’s backpack let loose probably four hundred bullets in under five seconds.  The pink mist cleared and there lay a point’s worth of soldiers with a lot of bullet holes in them.

“Wow Tomcat look at you, knock-out of the party!” I congratulated.  Spray and pray weapons make up for his lousy aim.

“And I did not get a single phone number,” said Tomcat.  My humor was starting to rub off on him.  His family will probably hate me for that.

We continued down the corridor where we encountered a lab full of scientists, slave laborers, and iron wombs.  Tomcat kicked down the door with his big boot and we casually strode in to everyone’s surprise.

Tom yelled out some names.  “Rose, Eva, Felicity, Galen, are any of you here?”  Not one peep from the stunned lab personnel about his family.
Tom glanced over at me.  “Well that answers that question,” he reasoned.

“WHERE IS BALL SACK?” I asked, and when the response involved drawing weapons we promptly went after anyone aiming at us or wearing a white lab coat.  That is one of the best things about the scientists – they were easy to pick out because of the white lab coats!  With a katana in one hand and a 50-caliber pistol in the other, many of those white lab coats turned red, that is for sure!  Maybe they should start wearing brown lab coats to hide anything yucky!  Except for that one scientist who was running around the blood-spattered lab while covered in flames - she needed a brown fire suit!

* * * * *

We just caught a bunch of Society thugs with their pants down (literally) in the barracks.  As they were getting dressed, Tomcat kicked down the door.

“Now it is time for the human body slice test,” I announced as I twirled a katana in each hand, then I used my suit’s jets to boost down the middle of the long building with both of my swords drawn to each side.  By the time I reached the end of the building, twenty-five soldiers became twenty-five tops of soldiers and twenty-five bottoms of soldiers, with blood and guts everywhere, especially since some hit several running ceiling fans throughout the building.  They were all almost like duocon Transformers, but dead.

I briefly inspected each of my bloody swords swords.  “These katanas – they will CUT!”  Tom made a slight bow in approval, and we continued to the next barracks to repeat the process. 

“Surat clubbing at its best! We are positively slaughtering them!” I exclaimed with glee as I popped a cap in some poor guy’s ass and cut another soldier’s arm off.

“It is pronounced ‘slotter’, Wade,” Tomcat corrected as he squished a half-dressed soldier underfoot and executed another with the Mauser slung under his claw.

I stopped in my tracks and with a raised eyebrow showing on my faceplate, and looked at Tomcat, who was vaporizing another goon with a short cannon burst.  “You mean to tell me this whole time that slaughter does not rhyme with laughter, but slotter?  Wow I feel dumb!  I thought it meant ‘hilarious killing’!  Seriously, Ulric and I had a laugh about it at our last Kin Wolf meeting,” I said, then I promptly I decapitated a soldier and kicked his head at another bad guy’s face, knocking him out.

I think he might have been laughing at you, Wade.

Well that is embarrassing!  Why did no one tell me?

Because they were afraid that you would kill them over a perceived insult.

Fair point.

After Tomcat vaporized the last soldier with his big gun I stopped and noticed something weird about all of them.

“Is it just me, or do they all look the same to you?” I asked.

Tom inspected a few corpses.  “They must be clones.  The Society must be trying to raise a clone army!” Tom said in disgust.

“Looks like they are going to try to Order 66 the Clans,” I considered.  Then I shrugged.  “Meh, you know how it is – might makes right, so if they win, so be it.”

“But we are Clan Wolf, Wade!  We should kill as many of these vermin as we can for the benefit of the Clan, quiaff?”

“What the hell has Clan Wolf done for us, Tom?  They did not come looking for you or your family when The Society made you all disappear, despite the work you all did for the Clan.  They did not stop their scientists from turning myself and other warriors into blow-up dolls to experiment with though we served with honor.  For everything we have done for Clan Wolf and what the Clan has failed to do for us, we owe them nothing!  Clan Wolf can fight their own fight and we will fight ours.”  Just then some bloody guts fell from the ceiling, striking a ceiling fan which flung them everywhere, some splattering my faceplate.

Tom thought about that for a moment.  “Seyla,” he finally agreed.  We stood silently among the dead in the barracks for half a minute.

“I always liked the way that word sounded, Seyla,” I said as I wiped the guts off my faceplate.  “Seyla.  Seyyyyylaaaaa.”  Then I whispered “Seyyyylaaaaa.”

And with that I chanted ‘seyla’ in a song as I skipped out of the barracks, kicking a few heads along the floor on the way, with Tom covering our exit.

When we left the fifth barracks we were ambushed by a man-portable PPC that vaporized my left hand.

“#$%&! OW!  WHAT THE HELL?!”  We quickly split up.  “WHAT WAS THAT THING?” I wondered as I looked at the charred stump on my left arm.  There it was standing under one of the field spotlights in the dawn light.

It was a weird-looking battle suit that I had never seen before.  It looked like it had a pair of breasts and some kind of gun on its shoulder, probably that PPC that zapped me.
That must be a prototype of the Void battle suit that was published in the Combat Equipment book.  It seems the design originated with The Society, at least the Nova Cat part of it anyway.

The suit took three shots at Tom as he was running for cover and somehow whiffed all of them.  You would think a ten-foot tall battle suit would be an easy target.  I decided to call the bad guy out.

“Hey Pamela!” I called out.  “Where is your $%&#! boss?!” 

The suit responded with another PPC bolt, which I dodged with a somersault to the side.

“You are going to pay for sending lefty to hand heaven!  Hope you are wearing your brown pants!”

My hand was in the process of growing back as I jumped in the air and shot my Mauser at the suit one-handed, putting some red-glowing gouges into its armor.  The enemy suit jumped in the air as well and shot at me, a the purple lightning bolt struck me right in the chest, knocking me backwards through the air.  Despite the impact, I managed to stick the landing with a somersault with my Mauser already firing at the weird suit, and the weird suit made a superhero landing.  I continued to pull my trigger as it stood up, only to hear a loud BURP.  The weird suit was sawed in half by a hail of large bullets, with sparks and shards of armor flying everywhere, never mind whatever was happening to the suit’s operator.  Did I turn my gun up to eleven?  No, but Tomcat’s gun is always at eleven!

Tomcat just stood there for a few seconds.  I could imagine the huge grin on his face of him testing the big gun on another battle suit.  It absolutely vaporizes fleshlings, but against battle suits it was like a big vibroblade.

“The bigger the gun, the bigger the hole!” said Tomcat like a giddy school girl.

By that point my hand had grown back and I reached around behind me to grab a spare armored glove to put on.  “Good thing I have extra gloves on hand,” I remarked.  I checked the armor on my chest and there was not a scratch or mark from the PPC bolt.  “That guy hit me dead-on.  Guess The Society really did make PLOT armor work.”

I am pretty sure Tom had a quizzical look on his face.  You can never tell for sure in these battle suits.  “Let us keep searching for Balzac!” he encouraged.

* * * * *

After slottering (I am saying it correctly now!) another hapless guard shack, we kicked down the door to a block-lined hallway leading to what appeared to be some kind of vehicle hangar.  Inside were two more of those other prototype Void suits, this time missing their armament.

“You do not bring fists to a gun or sword fight,” I said.  “but we can do this hand-to-hand.  Mano-el-mano.  Lips to lips.”  I holstered my weapons and got ready, but Tomcat was way ahead of me and with a BURP effortlessly sawed both suits in half with his big gun.

“Oh come on!” I said with arms thrown in the air in disappointment.  “I totally had them!”

“Sometimes you talk to much, Wade!”  said the Tomcat.  But then another unarmed Void suit came Kool-Aid Manning it through the block wall beside us and tackled me through the opposite wall in the entrance way.  We both fell over in the wall’s debris pile in another room, the Void suit’s head at my groin.

“How lustful of you, but we just met!” I said and kicked the suit in its breasts off of me.  It back-flipped onto its feet, and I flipped up onto mine.  We then assumed Street Fighter stances.

“Ready?  FIGHT!”  I yelled as we charged at each other.  The Void swung for my face and missed, just as I grabbed it by its punching arm and flung it through another wall.  The Void kept its balance and lit its jets in a flying charge.  It tackled me but I was able to back-flip it onto its feet with my own jets and weight, which put me on its shoulders with my butt right in its face.  Kinky!

I spun around on its shoulders, riding the suit like a sugar-high child on a terrified school teacher.  “BattleTech forum discussion says battle armor are flexible on the battlefield, so let us see how true that is!” I said as I grabbed its head and jerked it clockwise about 140 degrees, tearing the myomer in its neck which caused electrical sparks.  As the suit staggered a bit, I then stood up on its shoulders and kicked the suit’s head off in a backflip, which also included the operator’s head. 

“FATALITY!” I announced as I stuck the landing like an Olympic gymnast and the decapitated suit fell forward on its severed head, crushing it like a watermelon.  “Good soldiers do not lose their head in combat! - Deadpool 3054,” I quoted to the dead trooper as I slapped the dead Void’s butt with a metallic DONK.

First off, FATALITY is not from Street Fighter.  Second off, I think you took the battlefield flexibility of battle armor WAY out of context.

Whatever – it fit the narrative!

When I made it back out to the hallway from the entrance, I saw a huge mess.  There were bits and pieces of what were six door guards to the hangar, thanks to Tomcat.  His gray armor was covered in blood and guts like the floor and walls.  There was a body-shaped hole in the floor smoldering too.  It looked like a combination of battle claw, bullets, and boots – and some kind of flamethrower? - made short work of them.  A guard smushed against the steel door finally slid to the floor with a SPLUSH.  They really did not stand a chance against the angry armored Elemental in a tight space!

“Holy $%&*! stick Tomcat!  You totally Grimlocked those guys!” I said in amazement.  My violence is seriously rubbing off on him.

“Like blending fish in a Bass-O-Matic,” said Tomcat with approval.  Yep, Wade Junior right there, except he is actually ten years older than me.

Okay, let us rewind that because I am sure you want to read some Tomcat action!

After Tomcat saw me get plowed through the wall by a one-ton battle suit, he shrugged, figuring I could handle it, and went down the hallway searching for his family.  And more targets.

That was when he came across six guards at the door to the hangar, all of them with Mausers drawn.  Three of them already on station had heard the commotion down the hallway by the battle-suited guards, and the other three woke up from their off-shift sleep to see what was going on.

“Power down and get out of the suit, or we will fire!” said one of the guards nervously to the ten foot-tall armored golem (figuratively, not that Golem battle suit that Clan Ghost Bear built later).

“I could disintegrate you all right now,” said Tomcat coldly, “but I have some frustration to work out!”  And that is when he rushed at the guards.  They started firing at him, but those storm trooper wannabes all missed  him as he charged at them, even though his suit took up most of the corridor’s space. 

Tomcat kicked one guard into the steel door with all the strength available to him, with said guard instantly smushed like a bug against a windshield.  Simultaneously, he grabbed another guard by the chest with his battle claw and squeezed, ripping flesh, crushing bone, and spilling red innards like a sawzall’d jar of salsa.  He twisted the claw and the guard fell like an empty fleshbag with arms and legs attached.  A third guard’s head was caved in in by the autocannon arm, spraying blood and gray brains as the arm swung down and around to crush the fourth guard against the wall.  Tomcat then started firing the big rotary cannon, simultaneously blowing the guard’s torso apart and spinning her arms, legs and head off in all directions like a pyrotechnic pinwheel with sparks of blood and guts.  The last two guards tried running away but slipped and fell in the pool of blood and entrails sprayed on the floor.  That is when Tomcat stomped on one guard’s back, splattering his insides all over the floor and his suit’s legs like a tomato, and used the jump jet on the back of his other leg to barbecue the last guard into the floor to a crisp.

Now back to our current event!  We blew the steel door open and entered the hangar. 


But there was no one there to hear my question.  The hangar was emptied of all people like a party with no beer, except for three omnimechs – a Gargoyle and two Nagas.  I walked up to the Gargoyle and put my hand on its foot, reminiscing of my time as a MechWarrior.

“Hard for me to believe I piloted one of these things,” I said as I looked up at its menacing face.  “When I was a MechWarrior, I never thought I would be a ground pounder in an armored suit.  I often took the role for granted, for lesser muscleheads like yourself.  Yet look at me now and how much I am enjoying this – how much I am appreciating this.”  I smiled about how far along I have come despite looking as ugly as I do now.  It helps to remind myself every so often that I am still prettier than Kael Pershaw.

“I am glad you see that, Wade,” said Tom.  “I am glad a MechWarrior such as yourself is able to experience it too, though your super powers help with that!”

“Yeah no kidding!  Though I guess I would not mind an inflatable Gargoyle, kind of like the inflatable UrbanMech that was at GenCon 2022. “

“Someone had an inflatable UrbanMech?” asked Tom with surprise.

“Yeah, although it was about a meter short and a little soft, it did its best day and night, rain and shine!”

“Sounds like a children’s story.”

“It kind of was.  You should check out the one DarkISI wrote and read it to your kids when this is all over.  It makes me wish I had a baby Urbie for a pet!”

He does not know who that author is, but feel free to write that story for him anyway, crediting the actual author, of course.

“I will get you a copy, Tom.  Enough reminiscing and more memory-making!”

Yep, I do not think that I am going to pilot a battlemech again, but I am enjoying what I am doing now a lot more, so it all works out.

We opened the Arrow IV ammunition crates stockpiled in the hangar and piled some of the artillery missiles at the feet of each battlemech.  Behind one of the crates, I found a man in a white lab coat cowering on the floor in a fetal position.

“Hey, I found a lab coat with a lab rat in it!” I announced. 

“Please, do not kill me!  I beg you, I will tell you everything you want to know!” stammered the scientist.

“Oh you will tell us alright,” I assured him.

I picked him up and threw him over my shoulder and carried him out to the front of the Gargoyle’s feet where I dropped him on the floor.  Tomcat and I then silently loomed over him for a minute.  The scientist finally broke the silence.

“Ball sack,” he said.  “You are not the first person to think of that.  He had a ton of labnames to choose from of famous geneticists and he chose that one for some reason.  The ones who made fun of him for that name tended to disappear in lab accidents.”

I knelt down in front of the scientist.  “Where is he, Scientist Carl,” I asked.

“My name is Dus-” he started to say, but I got in his face and interrupted him like a drill instructor.

“I ANSWER THE QUESTIONS HERE CARL!” I yelled into his face.  “Except for this one:  Where is Balzac?”

“You get bonus points for telling me where my family is too,” added Tomcat.  The pitiful scientist started talking.

“You will find him on Hot Springs IV.  He has a facility inside a volcano.  There are guards like you encountered here as well as battle armor protecting the facility.  Balzac also has slave labor working there for him to maintain the facility.  Perhaps you will find your family there,” he said.

“Well, that is good,” I said.  “Now we know where Balzac is – a cliché bad guy hideout.”

“So we are done here?” asked the scientist.

“Yes, I am done,” I said, “but Tomcat here is not.”

“Now you get your bonus points!” announced Tomcat.

I picked up the scientist and chained him to a lower leg of the Gargoyle above where we stacked the artillery missiles.

“YOU SAID YOU WERE GOING TO GIVE ME BONUS POINTS!” yelled the scientist in panic.

“These are your bonus points, Carl,” I said.  “You get to make sure the explosives go off when they should.  AND you get a front seat for seeing the explosion!  Not many people get this close to explosions unless you are a soldier, or working on a Michael Bay filming set.”

Then we placed timed charges on each pile of missiles and got out of there.  We bid our new scientist friend a farewell though.

“Here, Carl.  You should have these to protect your ears, nose and teeth from the explosions,” I said as I stuffed small firecrackers in his ears, nostrils and mouth.  “Explosives are dangerous, you know.  Especially the noise, smell, taste, and explosions.”

“Enjoy the fireworks, surat!” Tomcat said to him as we left.  Carl was trying to yell to us, probably thanks or something like that.  Hard to tell with all those firecrackers in his mouth. 

And it was just like the movies, walking away from an exploding building without looking back.  It was very selfie-worthy.  My suit’s faceplate LCD overlay even had the ‘Deal With It’ glasses on.

But all this carnage, destruction, and banter finally lead us to…

« Last Edit: 24 August 2022, 12:17:23 by BATTLEMASTER »
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Re: MechWarrior With A Mouth: A BattleTech x Deadpool Story
« Reply #11 on: 24 August 2022, 17:50:33 »
All that and sunglasses too...  8)


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Re: MechWarrior With A Mouth: A BattleTech x Deadpool Story
« Reply #12 on: 26 August 2022, 18:23:12 »


This variant of the SLDF Nighthawk Battle Armor was developed by The Society entirely with Clan technology as a less resource-intensive alternative to the classic Elemental battle suit.  While the original SLDF suit was designed to fit only the average human, the Mark 35 suit could be easily adjusted to accommodate soldiers of all shapes and sizes, including Elementals.  The suit also had advanced myomer that allow the wearer to move faster with less fatigue and boost their strength beyond the original SLDF version of the suit.  The suit retained the armored gloves, built-in advanced ECM and jump jets.

Despite using less resources, The Society decided that quality over quantity was more important and shelved the project in favor of the classic Elemental suit.  However, the flexible fit adjustment of the Nighthawk Mark 35 would find its way to the Void battle suit that was jointly developed by both Clan Nova Cat and the Draconis Combine.  Less than five of these suits are known to have existed.
One example of the Nighthawk Mark 35 featured an experimental armor designated by the scientists as the Personal Lightweight Overmatch Tunic, or PLOT armor.  The armor design dove deep into untested K-F physics where it was possible to harness deus ex machina from the universe’s fourth wall and all its benefits through a weak K-F field in the torso's armor plate.  This field was active while the suit was powered on and made the wearer invincible to all attacks made to the suit’s torso armor.  This Nighthawk Mark 35 suit with the PLOT armor was a prototype and was believed destroyed along with its engineering and design documents in a lab explosion while it was inactive on a charging rack.

Code: [Select]
Nighthawk PA(L) Mark XXXV (Squad Size 1)
Type: Nighthawk PA(L)
Manufacturer: Unknown
    Primary Factory: Unknown

Tech Base: Clan (Unofficial)
Chassis Type:  Biped
Weight Class: Ultra Light/PA(L)/Exoskeleton
Maximum Weight: 400 kg
Battle Value: 11
Swarm/Leg Attack/Mechanized/AP: Yes/Yes/Yes/Yes

Equipment                                     Slots      Mass
Chassis:                                               130 kg
Motive System:                                               
     Ground MP:          2                              25 kg
     Jump MP:             3                              75 kg
    Left Arm:            Armored Gloves                  0 kg
    Right Arm:          Armored Gloves                  0 kg
Armor:                   PLOT                      4       70 kg
    Armor Value:         3 (Trooper)                         

Weapons and Equipment         Location (Capacity)   Mass 
Extended Life Support           Body       1       25 kg 
Single-Hex ECM                     Body       1       75 kg 

Special Rules:
On tabletop, PLOT armor renders its wearer invulnerable to all damage and environmental hazards that would normally damage or destroy a battle-armored trooper.

In RPG, only the torso location is invulnerable to any attack.  The rest of the armor has significantly more impact resistance compared to the regular [i]Nighthawk [/i]armor (don't ask me for RPG stats because I don't know the RPG rules!).


The Society developed a modular weapon pack based on the same housing as the traditional SRM detachable missile pack typically carried on the backs of Elemental battle armor.  Referred to by The Society as the Fusillade Arrayed Recoilless Kinetics (FARK), or Fusillade System, the weapon consisted of a total of sixteen magnetic recoilless coilgun barrels each loaded with hundreds of nickel-ferrous projectiles, allowing for a tremendous volume of throw weight in a short time and with high accuracy.  The FARK was inspired by the Metal Storm weapon system developed on ancient Terra.
Despite its potential, the FARK was not widely produced; The Society only made up fifteen FARKs, with about ten FARKs pulled from mothballs to be used during The Wars of Reaving.  Not a single FARK was given out beyond that instance.  Instead, the FARK’s first initial would name a future one-shot Improved ATM cluster launcher designed for protomechs.

At least one example of the Elemental FARK variant eschewed its arm-mounted modular weapon system for a permanently-mounted super-heavy autocannon and an additional anti-personnel weapon mount.  The autocannon would eventually mature into Clan Hell’s Horses Bearhunter autocannon.  That particular FARK variant also had experimental armor referred to as the Lightweight Autoillusion Garb Shield, or LAG Shield.  An advancement toward invisibility without mimetic armor, the LAG Shield used a weak K-F field a little differently from the PLOT armor that was concurrently developed in that it manipulates light to obscure the battle armor’s movement.  This made the armor appear in a position that it actually wasn’t in, throwing incoming attacks off target by at least three seconds of movement.  An extra power pack was added to the suit to help run the LAG Shield.  The LAG Shield could be turned off by the wearer to prevent it from confusing friendlies in a non-combat environment.  This prototype Elemental suit was believed destroyed in a lab explosion along with all data pertaining to the construction of the LAG Shield.

Code: [Select]
Elemental (FARK, Squad Size 1)
Type: Elemental
Manufacturer: Unknown
    Primary Factory: Unknown

Tech Base: Clan (Unofficial)
Chassis Type:  Biped
Weight Class: Medium
Maximum Weight: 1,000 kg
Battle Value: 48
Swarm/Leg Attack/Mechanized/AP: Yes/Yes/Yes/No

Equipment                                     Slots      Mass
Chassis:                                               250 kg
Motive System:                                               
     Ground MP:          1                               0 kg
     Jump MP:            3                             150 kg
    Left Arm:            Battle Claw                    15 kg
    Right Arm:           None                            0 kg
Armor:                   LAG Shield            0     250 kg
    Armor Value:         11 (Trooper)                         

Weapons and Equipment         Location (Capacity)   Mass 
Prototype Super-Heavy Semi-Portable Autocannon                   Right Arm     2       150 kg
FARK                                         Body       1       150 kg 
Anti Personnel Weapon Mount   Left Arm     1        5 kg
Anti Personnel Weapon Mount   Left Arm     1        5 kg
Power Pack                                 Body       1       25 kg

Special Rules:
On tabletop, treat the prototype super-heavy semi-portable autocannon as a Bearhunter Autocannon.  The FARK is treated as a pair of light machine guns that make a single attack roll and does 3D6 damage against conventional infantry.  The LAG Shield imposes a +10 to-hit modifier on the armored suit at all times between the illusion it causes and the frustration it causes for whomever is shooting at it.  The LAG Shield can be turned off in the End Phase of a turn, but why you'd want to do that I have no idea.

For RPG?  Good luck!
« Last Edit: 26 August 2022, 18:25:41 by BATTLEMASTER »
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Re: MechWarrior With A Mouth: A BattleTech x Deadpool Story
« Reply #13 on: 29 August 2022, 12:03:26 »
Chapter 4 – All Is Hell That Ends Hell

Hot Springs IV, Clan Jade Falcon Occupation Zone, Fall 3054

Hot Springs IV is known for its, well, hot springs.  Although Clan Jade Falcon runs the planet, they still saw value in keeping the planet’s tourist infrastructure intact and profiting from it.  Tom and I decided to enjoy a hot spring before our mission.  While our appearance did not phase the Jade Falcon occupiers much with them believing we were merchants on business, some eyebrows were raised among the tourists, though, especially my ghastly appearance.

Tom and I found a hot spring to lounge in with what looked like a mother, father, and their two children.  They seemed awful snooty, which was somewhat refreshing from what I was used to from the Clan Homeworlds.  As we settled in the mother looked at me and freaked out.

“GOOD LORDS what happened to you?” she asked.  “Shouldn’t you be in a hospital for all those burns?”

“I was in a fiery car crash a week ago,” I replied.  “My passenger lost his entire left side, but he is all right now.”

The lady nearly lost threw up in the hot spring we were in.  Tom was laughing, and so were the lady’s kids.  The father stood up and addressed me.

“You have some nerve making a sick joke about an accident like that to my wife!  Why I oughta –”

“You ought to do what, insect?”  Tom stood up with an unapproving look on his face, the top of the man’s head only coming up to the Elemental’s chest.  Tom was also wearing his brass knuckles, just in case we had a problem while we were relaxing a bit.

The father considered his reply for a moment.  “I oughta be a little more careful,” and he sat back down.  His children thought the exchange was really cool, and so did I!

One of the kids spoke up.  She must have been ten years old.

“Hey mister,” she addressed Tom.  “Can I try on your brass knuckles?”

Her parents had a look of shock on their face, but who were they to say no with a big, scary Elemental around?

“You can try kid!” replied Tom as he took a set of the knuckles off and gave them to the little girl.  She took hold of them and they dragged her to the bottom of the hot spring.  She came back up a few seconds later.

“Wow that is heavy!” she exclaimed.  The little girl and her little brother – who might have been about seven years old – both went under to try and retrieve the brass knuckles but came back up without success.  They went back down again, to get them, but this time Tom helped, reaching to the bottom of the hot spring with one hand and picking up his brass knuckles and both kids holding on to them.  Tom was smiling the whole time – they must have reminded him of his kids.

“Thank you for trying, children,” said Tom gratefully.  “I think you will both grow up to be great people one day.”  The kids smiled back.

“I went diving for brass knuckles once too,” I related.  “I dove before they smashed my face in.”

We spent another half-hour there at the hot spring.  A few minutes after the brass knuckles diving the parents decided that awkward silence with smiling children was weird so they started chatting us up.  We shared our Clan merchant cover story, a story we rehearsed many times in the past year while on our journey to kill the leader of The Society.  It does change a little bit each time, though.

“...So do NOT put lemonade in your Water Wow, or else you will attract bees while you are coloring with it,” is how I ended this story.  The kids loved it, and the parents?  They were totally humoring us like the Not-Named Clan agreeing with The Founder about a government based around fighting furries sorted by a caste system.

You can actually refer to them as Clan Wolverine, Wade.  It is easier to read, easier for BATTLEMASTER to type, and the Watch cannot read your mind and rat you out over it.

Yeah, sorry.  Clan Wolverine.  Old habits die hard!  Ohhhh what would happen if my buddy from a different universe, Wolverine, was in Clan Wolverine?  Less ‘A Betrayal of Ideals’ and more ‘A Slayer with Ideals’, am I right?

Anyway we bid the family farewell and made our way back to our cargo van truck.  We silently checked over our ammunition supplies, made sure our suits were fully functional, and I pulled a fresh set of armored gloves off our 3D printer to strap to the back of my suit just in case.  A spare pair of gloves is always handy!  But then I broke the silence. 

“You really enjoyed playing with those kids back there, quiaff?”

“Yes, they remind me of my own, especially my youngest.  Though instead of brass knuckles at the farm it was a heavy stone rake,” Tom replied, his eyes beginning to wet.

I set down the pistol I was cleaning and gave him a pat on the back.

“We will get your family back, big guy.  This story deserves a happy ending after all.”

“Thanks, Wade, I appreciate you helping me out,” said Tom.  “For such an accomplished warrior as yourself, I am amazed that you have so much compassion, especially toward a family.”

“I never really had a family myself.  I killed the last of my sibkin before my Trial of Position.  It was all about me,” I said.  “But when we invaded the Inner Sphere, I got to see firsthand how these so-called barbaric families stuck together, especially against our occupation.  They were not trying to one-up each other in trying to kill us, but they were doing it to save each other.  I realized that most of these people are not barbarians that really need saving from themselves, but families bound together by their own honor.”

“Seyla,” agreed Tom.

“Seyla,” I concurred.  “Now let us make some chimichangas!”

“What are chimichangas anyway?” asked Tom as we made our way to the truck’s cab.

“I am not sure, I just like the sound of the word,” I replied.  “Chimichangaaaaa,” I whispered to myself.

We got in the truck’s cab and got going with our final mission.

* * * * *

And here we are – the evil Scientist-General’s lair.  Of course it is in a volcano.  Of course it is dark and gloomy.  Very stereotypical of bad guys.  And we are going to put this absent-minded professor down for a dirt nap.

We parked our truck a ways from the volcano in a nearby town, suited up, and hoofed it on foot to the entrance of the lair.  Curiously, the guard shack was empty and there was no one around.  Instead the big stone-looking door was just closed.

I knocked on the door.  “HEY SACK OF BALLS!  ARE YOU IN THERE?  I HAVE A CANDYGRAM FOR YOU!” I called.

The door did not open neither was there a response, be it voice of a person or an automatic weapon.

“Well I guess no one is home,” I concluded.  So we turned around to go back to our van and heard a big CLUNK.  We looked at the door again and saw it was opening.  The door led to a ferrocrete passage big enough to drive a pair of cargo trucks through side-by-side.  The passage was well-lit and we did not pick up anything threatening on our sensors.  Everything that made sense said we should leave, but we were on a mission from ROB.  And we needed to finish this story after all.

“When Deadpool knocks, open the door, as the saying goes,” I said.

“I believe it is ‘when opportunity knocks, open the door,” corrected Tom.

“We are an opportunity to make that $%&#! $%&#! dead, so they opened the door,” I replied.

“Works for me,” said Tom.  “Let us make that $%&#! $%&#! dead!” 

He does not talk like that very often, but when he does that voice of his makes the swear words sound very good.  With that we started down the passage.

We slowly walked through the concrete tunnel with our weapons ready for anything, probably about a kilometer until we made it to a big blast door.

“I will try this again,” I said as I started to knock, only to be surprised by the door just opening.

I looked around.  “Where are the cameras around here?  I did not see a Ring doorbell anywhere.”

In front of us about ten meters was a round man in a white lab coat wearing some kind of monocle with black hair slicked backward.  His face had a smirk on it.  Behind him was the central volcanic magma pool with a containment field over it, something that the Star League Department of Mega Engineering developed long ago to prevent violent eruptions and control temperatures around and near active volcanoes.

“That must be our guy,” I said to Tom as we talked toward the dezgra lab rat.  “And he is actually wearing brown pants,” I observed.

The man in the lab coat started pacing in front of the vent and spoke, addressing me first.

“Former Star Captain Wade Winson, formerly leader of Binary Rogue of the 328th Assault Cluster, Alpha Galaxy, Clan Wolf.  Was a MechWarrior who piloted a Gargoyle and passed the Wolf Rite, but busted down to garrison infantry duty on the account of suffering performance due to cancer.  Received a mutagenic treatment by Society Scientist Luke and developed tremendous healing attributes and an uglier face than Kael Pershaw.  Believed deceased after the clinic blew up.  Now going by the alias ‘Deadpool’.”

“HEY, I am NOT uglier than Kael Pershaw,” I said, offended.

Etienne ignored my indignance and addressed Tom.

“Tom of the Tutuola Bloodhouse, Warrior Caste test-down who managed to kill everyone in the room and still did not get a leadership rank because of clumsiness with ranged weapons.  Became a farmer and has a wife, Rose, daughters Eva and Felicity, and son Galen.  Taken along with family as an asset for The Society with all evidence of life at the farm destroyed.  Escaped Society employ and now goes by the alias ‘Tomcat’.”

Yeah, he got that all right – he must have read our character biographies three chapters ago.  But I knew who he was too, so I addressed him as he did us.

“Etienne Ball Sack, warrior flunkie turned Bond villain from Clan Green Turkey, professional $%&#! stick begging for a ferrocrete facial.  An overall sadistic $%&#! who sees slavery and human guinea pigs as a means to an end since he cannot justify his cause well enough to convince anyone it is worth it except other like-minded dweebs.  Also very lousy at choosing a lab name that does not sound like male reproductive anatomy.”

“Rinaldi Balzac was a brilliant geneticist whose work laid the path toward dumb muscleheads like Tom,” retorted Etienne.

“Let us not get personal, egghead,” rumbled Tom.

“Oh but we will, slave,” retorted the scientist as he gestured to the side and up toward the volcano’s ceiling.

Up toward the vent opening an overhead kunckleboom crane lowered a wad of people over the containment field.  They were chained together and suspended from the crane’s hook – a woman with two teenage girls and a younger boy.  Ohhhh this must be…

“ROSE!  KIDS!”  Tom yelled in surprise and anger.  He saw them swinging above and heard them yelling.  Though the yelling was probably about being hung over a pool of magma and not from recognizing him as dad.

“I am so glad that I picked the right laborers to hang over the magma pool,” said Etienne with a smile.  “The crane is lowering them into the magma pool’s containment field.  When they breach the field in ten minutes, they will start burning to a crisp and turning to ash, starting at their toes and working up to their heads over a period of sixty minutes.”

“Let them go, Etienne, they did nothing to you or The Society.  We totally did, though,” I said.

“Oh I know,” agreed Etienne, “which is why I am going to kill both of you thorns.”

As if that was a cue, two massive forms dropped from above, with one doing a superhero landing and the other one doing a Black Widow landing.  Each one was half the size of an average battlemech and looked like a big minotaur from ancient Greek mythology, complete with a bull’s head with horns and glowing orange eyes, and with a big-looking gun on each shoulder.

“If you survive my Minotaurs, you will get to see Tom’s pitiful family die horribly.  Each of the Minotaurs are broadcasting a signal to the crane.  If both signals are lost, the crane will just drop those slaves into the magma pool.  Should the ECM in Wade’s suit interfere, they will be dropped and incinerated.  If you both die, those cow towners will have the best view of it and they will still die horribly because I want them to,” said Etienne.  What a jerk!

He continued with  smile.  “I will stand off to the side and personally monitor the performance of my Minotaurs in their first bout of combat.  Victory is all but assured for me, and I will enjoy it.”  With that, the scientist took his position out of the way of combat.

“Well, Tomcat,” I looked toward the armored Elemental, “let us make some corned beef!"  I drew a katana and a pistol both with a twirl, hoping to find a weak point in the big monsters.  "Maximum effort!" I rallied, then we charged toward the baby battlemechs.

Remember mentioning ‘protomechs’ way back in Chapter 2, Wade?  They originated with The Society as an experiment to make Enhanced Imaging a mind-controlled piloting interface for battlemechs.  The concept and some designs were passed onto the Scientist Cast of Clan Smoke Jaguar to help save their Clan from impending doom.

Why call them protomechs though?!  I mean, what the $%&#! kind of name is that?  These are not like the first battlemechs!

“Proto” also means “ancestral”, not just “original” or “primitive”.

Oh wow, I did not know that!  See kids?  You can not only enjoy violence, but learn something from it!

As we charged at the protomechs, their big lasers burned past us into the floor where we once stood.  That was when we split directions.  Tomcat went toward the crane with one Minotaur following behind him, and I went the other way toward Etienne with the other Minotaur following me.

Tomcat used his suit’s jets to bound toward the crane.  The Minotaur chased after him with the grace of an actual mythical beast that would not be as easily done in a regular battlemech, and it was gaining on him.

“Come here and die, Toad!” called the chasing Minotaur.

Tomcat took a few shots at the following Minotaur, trying to score hits on its legs in an attempt to slow and cripple it.  The Minotaur fired its lasers again, melting the floor where the Elemental was about three seconds ago due to the LAG Shield equipped his suit.  When they finally made it to the crane, Tomcat all the sudden boost-lunged at one of the Minotaur’s legs planting explosives in the holes his autocannon made in the leg armor.  Tom jumped away toward the back of the Minotaur and triggered the explosives, blowing one of the Minotaur’s legs apart.  It yelled and staggered in what appeared to be pain, but the Minotaur managed to stay upright on one leg, though a bit unsteady.  That was when Tom made a running jump into the Minotaur’s back with enough force to knock it forward into the crane boom, spinning the crane around in a way that it brought his family over the floor surrounding the magma pool.  In its collision with the crane, the one-legged Minotaur lost its balance and yelled as it fell through the vent containment field and into the magma where it screamed in pain as it sank and melted.

“What was that warrior’s deal?” Tomcat found himself wondering out loud.  He was surprised at what he just witnessed.  “You cannot possibly feel your machine’s damage.  That is pretty messed-up.”

As Tomcat ran to check on his family to make sure they were okay, the other Minotaur that I was dealing with noticed that the family was safe over the floor and took a shot at them with both of its lasers.  I saw this and quickly jumped to take the shot right to the chest.  I landed like a hero with no damage to himself at all.

The Minotaur looked as confused as a non-emotive machine could.  “How the hell did you do that?” it asked.

“PLOT armor, tin can,” I said as I charged at the being and jumped over its head, jabbing one of my katanas in a gap the armor had over one of the lasers.  I swung around on the sword’s handle to land just above the Minotaur’s head, between the lasers.  I noticed the laser I stabbed starting to spark and smoke.

“CRITICAL HIT: ER MEDIUM LASER,” I announced like Betty from MechWarrior 2.

The Minotaur thrashed its arms around and growled, trying to reach over its guns to get at me.  That is when I took both of my katanas and stabbed the other laser through gaps in its armor.  It immediately sparked and started smoking with a few flames coming out from under the armor.

“CRITICAL HIT: ER MEDIUM LASER,” I announced again.  “Now it is mano el mano, $%&#! Bull,” I said as I re-holstered my swords.

“You are right, pest!” it retorted as it bent forward fast and flung me off onto the ground.

I rolled and did that addicting Black Widow landing pose, during which I heard a BURP and saw the Minotaur’s head get pummeled by a few hundred heavy autocannon and FARK rounds from Tomcat.  By the time the smoke cleared, holes covered the head an upper torso of the Minotaur and both of its eyes were gone.  But it still came at us.

“What…  The…  HELL?” I asked, bewildered.  “That is NOT how blindness is supposed to work!”

“I am virtually a god, freebirth!  And now I will smite you!” announced the Minotaur.

“I have an idea,” said Tomcat as he ran back toward his family, still suspended over the floor by the crane.

“What, leave me here with almost-Blind Alistar?” I asked as the Minotaur picked me up and drove me into the ground head-first several times.

It kind of hurt.  “Ow!  Ow!  Ow!  Ow!” I am pretty sure I said repeatedly during the smashing.

I began leaving a small crater Wile E. Coyote-style in the floor and felt a bunch of bones in my spine crack as my vertebrae were violently compressed.  The Minotaur left me in the crater with just my legs visibly sticking out.  I let it believe that it killed me.  Meanwhile my bones were healing and my back straightened out like an accordion.

“Turn your ECM on NOW!” I heard Tomcat call over the radio.  I trusted his judgment, so I turned it on and canceled the crane drop signal being broadcast from the last Minotaur.  Tom’s family dropped to the floor, where he was there to catch them.  He set them down and the crane kept paying out steel cable into a pile on the floor next to them.

“I need to borrow your cable,” said Tomcat to his family.

They all looked confused as they recognized the Elemental’s voice.

“Tom?” asked Rose, his wife.

“Dad?” asked the kids.

“Stay here, I will be back in a few minutes,” he said to his family whom was still sitting on the floor bound together by a set of chains.  He cut the cable pile from the crane with his claw and picked up the pile, running toward the remaining Minotaur.

The Minotaur was looking for Tomcat, grunting and growling in frustration over its partial blindness.  It was soon distracted by Tomcat’s FARK.  I managed to work myself out of the crater during that time.

“Poolboy, catch!” called Tomcat as he threw me one end of the steel cable.  I then got the idea of what he wanted to do.  It helped that I also saw Star Wars Episode 5 awhile ago.

At that point we ran with each end of the cable in opposite directions around the Minotaur, entangling its legs.

“When life gives you the bull, grab it by the legs!” I said as we tangled up the Minotaur’s legs.

“I do not think that is exactly how the saying goes!” called back Tomcat.

“The Toad is right, you know,” said the Minotaur.

“Shut it hamburger, that is the last speaking line for you!” I said to the big beast.

It tried to rip the cable free from its legs but could not manage to do it.  Then it hopped around like a sack racer and got closer to the magma pit.  At that point Tomcat and I jumped at the protomech and drop-kicked it right in the face, toppling it right through the vent containment field and into the magma pit where, like its companion, it screamed in pain as it melted and sank.

“Well, that takes care of those ugly protomech things.  I mean, I get why they look so beastly, but it is soooo over the top,” I remarked.  “Go tend to your family while I go get Ball Sack.”

“You can do both if you want to,” called Etienne, holding a large laser pistol up to the heads of Tom’s children.

“Dad!  Do something!” they called.

Tomcat was lost.  “I am not sure what I can do to save them now,” he said to me.  But I had an idea myself.

I quickly pulled one of my katanas from my back and threw it towards Etienne.  It quickly sailed through the air making several flips.  It missed his hand, but cut his laser pistol in half, destroying it.

I ran at him as he looked at his weapon in shock for a few seconds.  A few seconds too late for him to notice that I was coming for him.  I hit him with a shoulder tackle and his rotund frame flew into the crane’s control console, smashing the control panel and screen.  Suddenly alarms in the base were going off and another screen showed a timer.

“Crane must be compensating for not having a wrecking ball,” I remarked as I walked to Etienne, who was laying on the floor.

Etienne was cowering as I yanked him up by the waistband of his tighty-whities and dangled him over the containment field.  He was absolutely scared and his ass stung – nothing says atomic wedgie like a rope burn right in the crack from forcing briefs into a thong.  And he did actually get rope burn – I saw it on my thermal overlay.

“Please, do not drop me!  I beg you!” he pleaded.

“Your begging is not compelling you $%&#! of $%&#!.  You were about to murder a family just because you could.  I bet they would love to have a correctional chat with you.”

“No, PLEASE do not do that!  I will share with you all the Society’s secrets!  For example, I -”

Then the waistband of his underwear snapped and he fell through the containment field and into the magma pit.  Etienne instantly burst into flames, unable to react quick enough to scream or writhe in pain.  He just went FWOOM!

Tomcat and I stood there and watched him burn in magma pit for half a minute.

“Nice guy.  I am going to miss him,” I finally said with mild sarcasm.

After Etienne’s corpse burned to nothing, all that remained floating on top of the magma was a…  Pocket protector?

“Really?  A pocket protector?  Leave it to the Scientist Caste to design an indestructible Pocket Protector IIC Z,” I remarked.  "They probably even crammed an HPG or a Nova system in there too."

Tom was more interested in something else.  “I wonder what he was going to say.”

“Who cares?  That bag of $%&#! had it coming!  I was going to drop him in regardless.  He was probably one of the guys who said that Pluto was a dwarf planet, so no loss there.”

Tom got curious.  “Where is Pluto?”

Eva, Tom’s oldest daughter, spoke up.  “Pluto is a dwarf planet in the Terran system.  I learned about it in school sometime ago.”

“Smart kid,” I said.  “Maybe you will be a spacer some day.”

“We are ALL going to be spacers if we do not get out of here before the base blows up!” panicked Rose.

Tom knelt down next to his family and cut their binding chain with his battle claw.

“Hop on, there should be enough handholds on this suit to carry you all out of here,” he told them.

They all climbed onto him and we made our best speed out of the base as possible, even using our jets to boost short distances, especially so that Tom’s family did not fall off him.  As we cleared the entrance we heard cascading explosions behind us – BOOM BOOM BOOM!  We kept running to the town where we parked our truck to get away as far as we could from the base.  Once we got to our truck, we turned around and saw the peak of the volcanic base had collapsed into itself.

We got everyone inside the back of the truck and we started doffing our battle suits.  You should have seen the looks on all the faces of Tom’s family when he popped the visor on his suit open and they saw each other’s eyes for the first time in two years.  It sincerely brought tears to my eyes.  That and having not peed since the morning.  Like everyone else they were slightly freaked out by my appearance out of the armor, but they got over it faster.  Must be a nice country folk thing.

“Now let us go home and get some rest,” I said.

“Wade, we no longer have a home, remember?" Tom reminded me.  "Everyone thinks we are dead.”

“Oh, right,” I said sullenly, now having a chance to remember why we did all this to begin with.  But then I had an idea.

“Ohhh wait!  I know someone who can help with that!” I exclaimed.

Tamar, Clan Wolf Occupation Zone, Winter 3054

My idea worked – Weasel managed to find us all a new home on Tamar.  With Weasel’s help, Tom and his family started a new, successful farm for the Free Guilds.  Tom kept his battle suit just in case he ever needed it again, and some tools to keep it and his other farming equipment in good working condition.  I was allowed to keep the cargo van truck with all the killers’ tools it came with.  With me just in it now it is like a nice mobile home, much better than any barracks I had lived in.  I planned to go off-world to find bounty work, but will come back every so often to visit Tom and his family, like right now for the holidays!

Yep, it is a great feeling knowing that you helped reunite a family and accomplished a mission.

But you did not exactly accomplish the mission, Wade.

What the $%&#!?  How so?

Well, the Wars of Reaving still happened since it is in a BattleTech Source Book set about fifteen years from now, and The Society was alive and well in that book.  That said, there is the issue with the title of this story:  “Deadpool Kills The Society”.  That is pretty misleading now, quiaff?

Well, I mean it is only a little bit misleading.  I did kill several hundred Society thugs, and their leader Etienne.  What are you afraid is going to happen for that little naming mistake anyway?  Is Herb is going to nuke Tamar for it or something?  Is Ray is going to fact-check the crap out of this fanfic?  I mean come on – it was just a fun story that BATTLEMASTER had in his head for like, forever!  Throw us a bone on this one!

…  Fine.  But we should kill the rest of them later.

I guess if I get bored I could kill more of them later, but that is charity work!  Right now I can use some extra Kerenskys and C-Bills.  Like the economists say, there is no such thing as free ammo – TINSTAFA!  But in the meantime, we will take a break and enjoy dinner with Tom’s family, then tomorrow we will make some chimichangas!  We have a naughty list to tend to and Santa Pool has a coal shotgun ready to fill skulls with  >:D



A crossover by BATTLEMASTER

Do not tell Wade I did that!

I totally caught that you sly sneak!  I am you, remember?
« Last Edit: 29 August 2022, 12:16:51 by BATTLEMASTER »
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Re: MechWarrior With A Mouth: A BattleTech x Deadpool Story
« Reply #14 on: 29 August 2022, 12:06:54 »

Epilogue – Everyone Hates Clowns

Tamaron, Clan Coyote Space, Winter 3054

“We finished reviewing the Hot Springs IV lab camera recordings and the telemetry of two of the Minotaur prototypes, as well as the telemetry from the FARK-equipped Elemental and the Nighthawk Mark 35,” Scientist Matthew Newton announced.  “Would you like a summary?”


“Regarding the Minotaurs, their armor revealed shoddy craftsmanship that made it easy to penetrate with mere swords and infantry-grade support autocannon.  I believe that the slave labor in their construction is to blame.  The slave technicians and laborers are unhappy and likely have sabotaged some of our work as a result,” Matthew said.  “Otherwise they performed well – much finer control than traditional battlemechs due to the Enhanced Imaging neural interface, but I believe that is a good trade-off for their pilots developing apotheosis and feeling their machine’s ‘pain’ any time it takes heavy damage.”

“Very well – we shall push on with the protomech designs and determine which psychiatric medicines are most appropriate for the pilots – I do not want them all turning to psychotic vegetables quickly.  But we will have to figure out a way to fix the slave labor issue.  I believe the Jaguar scientists may know how to deal with such malcontents.  What about the two battle suits they fought against, the Mark 35 Nighthawk and the FARK-equipped Elemental?”

“They performed extraordinarily well.  The Nighthawk was able to take a hit from a pair of Series 7J lasers to the PLOT Armor on its chest with no signs of any kind of damage.  The suit also took a physical beating from one of the Minotaurs and kept functioning at full capacity.  The suit’s telemetry showed that its wearer, former Star Captain Wade Winson, showed amazing stamina, pain resistance, and even a very high healing factor that fixed his fractured spine in under two minutes.”

“Fascinating.  I want to be briefed more about both the Mark 35 suit and Wade Winson later.  How about the FARK Elemental suit?”

“The FARK system was not particularly effective against most of the continuous armor on the Minotaur.  But wherever it could penetrate, the projectiles bounced around and did some internal damage.  Its output is heavy at nearly 5000 rounds a minute, but that means nothing if the projectiles themselves cannot ablate or penetrate armor.  The suit was also equipped with a prototype super-heavy autocannon permanently mounted on the weapon arm.  It was more effective against the Minotaur’s armor than the FARK despite being less accurate.”

“So the weapons were not particularly effective against the Minotaur’s armor.  Did the suit even win against the Minotaur?”

“Yes.  What really helped against the Minotaur was the LAG Shield equipped on the battle suit.  The base cameras showed a Minotaur’s lasers passing right through the battle suit.  This is a K-F-driven optical illusion created by the suit’s armor that was inspired by internet-based first-person shooting games with inconsistent data speeds between players.  The LAG Shield made it easier for the suit to get right up to the Minotaur’s legs to plant explosives in the holes the autocannon created in the armor, which subsequently cost the Minotaur one of its legs.”

“I want to be briefed more on the LAG Shield later.  I hope we can find some back-ups of the engineering designs behind the LAG Shield and PLOT Armor – so much for not having a secure cloud back-up system at the time.  The New Caledonia lab’s destruction demonstrated that vulnerability.  As for the FARK, I am not seeing much value in it compared to other automatic weapons of similar size, but I know that other tests with the super-heavy autocannon show great performance against the armor of other battle suits.  The Horse scientists really outdid themselves there.  That Wade Winson, though, he was a one-in-a-million shot with the mutagenic therapy.  I doubt we will be able to replicate his specific transformation any time soon.  Anything else?”

“Before the Hot Springs IV lab was destroyed, Scientist Edward Fermi was killed by incineration through falling into the magma pit, thanks to Wade Winson.”

“Good riddance,” Scientist-General Etienne Balzac said.  “I never liked that psychopath anyway.  I actually want the Andrews bloodline of the Vipers reaved from existence because of him!  I am just glad the arrogant fool agreed to be my body double, and I have Wade to thank for his demise.  My ruse should also keep Wade off my back and out of The Society’s way for awhile.  We can also do away with Edward’s Clown Dress-Up day and replace it with something else.  I really hate clowns.”

Epilogue the Second – Waste Not But Wasted Anyway

New Caledonia, Clan Wolf Occupation Zone, Summer 3053 (about an hour after Wade and Tom left)

After Weasel saw Wade and Tom off to their murderous-with-a-purpose rampage, he drove back to his mobile home for he had some business to take care of.

When Weasel got back to his home, he went to his safe.  Using multi-factor authentication, he unlocked the safe to retreive the now-clean flash drive Wade had given to him for payment.  He had a meeting with some Diamond Shark merchants that afternoon at which he hoped to secure a lucrative deal for the drive’s contents.

But before he had to go, he had to take care of some personal business – in his restroom.

Just as he was zipping up his pants, he “flashed” the toilet – he had an electric arcing toilet like those used in Star League-era battlemechs and other combat vehicles, which burned the waste to nothing but ash dust, but reclaimed and stored water safe for drinking.  Simultaneously, the flash drive found a hole in his pocket and fell into the toilet before the arc safety door shut.

“OH #$%&!,” exclaimed Weasel, and the toilet’s flashing process began.

“NO!  NONONONONONO!” cried Weasel frantically as the flashing process was not stoppable at this point.  He watched through the protective cover the brilliant light of high-voltage electric arcs not only fry his own feces into nothing, but the Society flash drive as well.  After about twenty seconds, the arcing process was done with only a pile of ash dust remaining, which was then sucked out of the bottom of the toilet bowl by a vacuum and into a central waste storage container for his trailer.

Weasel stood there for a moment, staring at his toilet.  He had no data back-ups due to the copy protection on the drive he was unable to crack.

“Well, I guess that cancels the meeting, and my profits,” concluded Weasel sadly.

« Last Edit: 29 August 2022, 12:08:33 by BATTLEMASTER »
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Re: MechWarrior With A Mouth: A BattleTech x Deadpool Story
« Reply #15 on: 29 August 2022, 17:47:06 »
Hilarious!  Glad we can look forward to more!  :D


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Re: MechWarrior With A Mouth: A BattleTech x Deadpool Story
« Reply #16 on: 30 August 2022, 16:28:05 »
Thank you!  I'm glad you enjoyed it :)  I'm not sure when I'll put the next story up, but my wife's tired of BattleTech so I don't think she'll be reading any more of my stuff  xp  But that's okay.

I have an idea of where I'll take BattleTech Deadpool next, and I think he might enjoy it  :))
Trombone Player, Lego Enthusiast, Engineer
Clan Smoke Jaguar, Delta Galaxy ("The Cloud Rangers"), 4th Jaguar Dragoons
"You better stand back, I'm not sure how loud this thing can get!"
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Re: MechWarrior With A Mouth: A BattleTech x Deadpool Story
« Reply #17 on: 30 August 2022, 18:19:15 »
I'm jealous!  My wife gave up on BT before we were married because I royally screwed up showing her how to play the game.  Four kids later she hasn't changed her mind, so that should give you some idea of how badly I did that...  xp

Also, it says something about her since she married me anyway!  :D


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Re: MechWarrior With A Mouth: A BattleTech x Deadpool Story
« Reply #18 on: 30 August 2022, 21:28:33 »
 :clap: :clap: :beer: :beer: :clap: :clap: :rockon:
"For the Angel of Death spread his wings on the blast, And breathed in the face of the foe as he passed:And the eyes of the sleepers waxed deadly and chill, And their hearts but once heaved, and for ever grew still!"