Sunday, 26 October 2014

Deadpool


Supervillian/Superhero Origins

#1 

Deadpool

It has now been 3 weeks since the American man had been captured by the Al Qaeda, 3 weeks since Osama bin Laden had been shot down. He had been in a state of complete mental enclosure hence. saying nothing, and feeling nothing. He was a recon marine under NATO and scouting the town of abbottabad since three months before the Laden mission, but somehow, he was captured and was now being used as a Guinea pig.

Somehow, the Afghani terrorists had gotten hold of a prototype superpower serum from Israel and the soldier, or mercenary, named Wade Wilson was being tested on with it. Wade was nothing, but a simple guy from Illinois who loved his wife too much. He had even cried when she died. not that he'd admit it anyway. His hard knock life had taught him way too much about composure and toughness than any military school would dream of. His parents died while he was just 3 months old, leaving him virtually homeless and perpetually broken. 

But she understood his pain, she who had been violated at the night of 15th september, 1995. Yes, he remembered the date. He helped her get back on her feet, become whole again. Alas! God hated the couple and couldn't see them happy at all. He was shipped off to Afghanistan and she was flown off to heaven. He didn't even know of her demise due to cancer until he came back home, just to see his wife's rotting carcass. nobody even bothered to notice the body. 

His mind broke again. This time, it just didn't mend. Until he found the love of his life again. War.

Enraged by the world's utter failure at life and utmost awe for death, he set out to emancipate the world of idiocy and pain. He became a mercenary. But, God didn't like his happiness a bit, so he destroyed his body. A mortar was fired. It hit Wade, right in his leg. He lost two of them.

Ravaged and broken of mind, yet again, he went to the least thing he thought was his. Back to the clutches of broken men in the form of Hydra, the offspring of the Nazis. They replaced his legs with pure energy. Wade was now a wisp. Vapor on the surface of the mortal plane. He was now literally invincible. He couldn't die. Never again.

He joined the special forces of NATO. He was now part of the operation codenamed : WOLFPAK. An operation dedicated to eradicating terrorism from the face of the earth. An operation based on terrorism. Whose modus operandi was Terror.

Wade did not join it for honour or heroics, just for making his mark, for fame...and fame got to him.

Known as the wisp, he destroyed three Taliban bases in 2 nights, and nobody knew his presence until a week later, and when they did, they captured him. And they broke him again, and again. And again...

Back to the present, his head was cut off twice, his blood siphoned thrice, and his limbs cut off innumerable times. They all regrew. The serum was working better than always. He was virtually indestructible.

So, when he destroyed their base in a flash, he didn't think twice, he just did it. And he joked about it. And never stopped joking.

When he finally attained solitude, he went to a mirror and looked at his face. There wasn't much of it left. Except eyes and a hole for a mouth. His transformation from flesh to energy and back to flesh again, left him a horribly disfigured man. He wore a mask to hide his deformity. He wore a jumpsuit to hide his body.

Whatever happened, Wade died that day. Deadpool was born.

The Deadpool who had an undying appetite for blood and human female mammary glands.

Copyright Praneet Kumar Pandey 2014.

Tuesday, 30 September 2014

Letters

(part 1 of the occupation series)

Dear Me, I've been addressing
Letters to the lost.
"Let it be," I say,
It's not my cause.

Pledging servitude, addressing gratitude,
See where it has brought me?
I hate your manners, your habits, your customs.
You, the Devil, has got to me...

"Given the circumstances,
I expect you to understand..."
"It has been months since I talked to you,
now, the matter's gone out of hand..."

"Hello Sir, I have been ill...",
"let it go, dear, don't comprehend..."
"I am reveling in misery, monsieur,
who do you defend?"

When you write, 
but let the quill write itself,
It's when paper, the ink blots,
reveal all kinds of hell.

Testament to generations of
human expression,
I can open your lives,
defile your revelations...

The transporter of words,
the nexus of communication,
Stand here I,
the most humble of occupations,.

I, the scribe of the writhing hand,
 I, the most humble postman...

Wait for the other one in the series.

copyright Praneet Kumar Pandey

Sunday, 28 September 2014

This is it guys! I have got my own blog now. So hang on for prose, poetry and just some random chaos. Stay up and stay high! Peace out!!!