15356/The Wire was Over-Rated

The Wire was Over-Rated
Date of Scene:	11 July 2023
Location:	Sister Margaret's School for Wayward Girls
Synopsis:	Deadwood is way better.
Cast of Characters:	Wade Wilson, Betsy Braddock, Jessica Drew

---

Wade Wilson has posed:
    "I don't care what you say, man." Wade's eyelets were wide and his hands were held up with some strong stern emphasis to them as he looked across the room. One way, then the other, his expression stern and severe. As much as Wade can manage. He tilted his head to the side, "Deadwood is superior to the Wire. It's like... listen to the dialogue, man. Shakespeare but with swearing!"
    Dobber, the tall mohawked mercenary shook his head. "That's because it wasn't real, right? Deadwood is just... David Milch sitting in the corner and jerking himself. The Wire... that's real."
    "I can't believe how close you are to death, Dobs. Seriously. You're pushin' me." Wade turns and gestures at Weasel, "Back me up here, Weaz. I'm beggin' ya."
    To which, in the middle of the night, Weasel shakes his head. "Sorry, Wade. I've not seen either of them."
    Which is when Dobs and Wade round on him instantly, blinking. "The hell?!" They both say, simultaneously.

Betsy Braddock has posed:
"I've not seen the Wire. But I have seen a few episodes of Deadwood," Betsy said as she pulled over a fresh bottle of beer from the other side of the bar, just helping heself instead of asking Weasel to do it. She didn't want to bother him. He had enough work to do with this crowd. And unlike many of these patrons, she actually would pay for it after helping herself.

She popped the top off and then shook her head, that prim British accent punctuated with a momentary sniff of disdain. "But the level of swearing in that show was excessive. I am not a prude. I don't mind harsh language. After all, we use the term fuck like a comma. However, there is a point where it's just swearing for swearing sake and adds nothing to the story that is trying to be conveyed."

Jessica Drew has posed:
Jessica puts her drink down to turn on the trio. "Geez, Deadfool, give the guy a break. Maybe he was someplace that didn't have TV. Like jail or Europe or something." Her mouth twists into a sour expression as she doesn't add: or a research facility. One side of her mouth turned down, she stares balefully at the others and shrugs, "Yeah, I've seen all of Deadwood and a few episodes of the Wire. Recuperation time and cable channels. Whaaat? Don't tell me you've never been in one."

Wade Wilson has posed:
    "See, this is the point where I'd call her a cocksucker, but then she'd stab me in the face." The Merc with a mouth informs Dobber, which has the tall mohawked man smirking a little. Wade gives a single nod as he leans to the side, sprrraaawling across the table and looking upside down over toward Spider-Woman. He takes a deep breath, "Elizabeth has failed me, you're my only hope Jessica Rabbit."
    Which is when she comes through for him. He spreads his hands, "Good, there. See Milch... he _writes_ his story." Wade rolls over onto his abdomen, lying on the table with his chin in his hands and his feet angled up toward the ceiling, seeming very at ease. "David Simon didn't write _any_ of it. He had an outline. Then told the actors, 'hey, do this here and have this happen.'" His mask crinkles a little.
    "Improv isn't writing. Game, set, match. Deadfool. I mean Deadpool.'

Betsy Braddock has posed:
"That I do have to agree with. There are far too many people who seem to think that if you take a group of talented actors or comedians and put them in a scene then allow them to just improv, it will be amazing and wonderful."

Betsy took a big swig of her beer. "Which is utterly untrue. In fact, without some sort of structure and a plan, it becomes a steaming pile of shite." Because of course she didn't say shit. She wasn't a barbarian.

"It is sad that I have to seek out films older than myself to find good writing, more often than not."

Jessica Drew has posed:
"Yep, Deadfool." Jess motions to Wade in his absurd position. "I rest my case. You look like a turtle stuck on a rock, Wade. Get one of these guys to save you."

"Look I'm going to agree with you, for once. Mark this on your calendars, boys and girls." She spares a glance for Betsy, "Besides our countryman have the patent on good tv. Witness Fawlty Towers."

Wade Wilson has posed:
    "Ah hah," Wade rolls over onto his back, looking up at the ceiling, though his katanas click and clack a little as he grimaces and undoes the clasp of his shoulder strap, letting the blades settle off to the side, while one falls to the ground with a faint clink-clank. He points up at the ceiling, "Tell me you've seen 2016 Ghostbusters without telling me you've seen 2016 Ghostbusters. Hah!"
    Without looking at either of them, Wade points over his shoulder toward both of them, likely not sure which is which. "You guys also have Benny Hill, which negates any of your shows. Though I do love me some Yakity Sax."
    "Wade... could you get off the table?"
    "I was thinking of taking a nap here. It's peaceful this late. Who else is in here. Manny, you still here?"
    Across the way an older man in an orange and white hawaiian shirt yells back, "Still here, Wade."
    "Go home, Manny! Martha is worried sick about you! You treat a woman like that right!"

Betsy Braddock has posed:
And as soon as that katana hit the floor, Betsy had been leaning tying to catch it. She missed and it hit the floor, making her wince despite herself. Quickly she lifted the sheathed weapon and just set it casually across her lap, giving it at least a modicum of respect.

"Fawlty Towers is true art." And at mention of 2016 Ghostbusters, she couldn't help but smirk. Though there were plenty of others out there in the world. And some people liked that movie. Good for them. They were allowed to. She, however, found it to be horrible. And that was her right as well.

Then Betsy looked down at the weapon in her hand and took the handle in hand. She moved to draw it out because she wanted to see the weapon, check out the quality. After all, she did appreciate a good katana.

Jessica Drew has posed:
With a smile and a nod at Betsy, "We have excellent taste, despite the company we keep." Motioning to Betsy with her drink, "Is it real or plastic weighted to appear real?"

"And, you my friend," she turns the nearly finished drink in his direction, "might merit a few choice words, but I won't stoop to your level. Cocksucker, indeed."

Wade Wilson has posed:
    The katana in Psylocke's hand is primarily a katana in design only. There is no spirit to it, no soul, not even likely a smith who applied heat to metal to craft the weapon. It is entirely too... touched by technology. For it has a hint of a curve to it, though straighter than a traditional katana. It's a weapon that seems like a computer created it, devised it, laser engraved it, and honed the weapon. It almost seems... disposable in some way.
    But definitely an affront to Japanese culture.
    "Yes, dear! I'm acknowleding it, dear!" Wade replies in his best John Cleese, still looking up at the ceiling. "But saying just because something was made on the sceptered isle doesn't automatically make it good. For every Michael Palin there are a dozen Jimmy Saviles. Like... sooo many Jimmy Saviles." A pause and he shivers, "That guy... ew."
    A pause, then he adds. "What were we talking about?"

Betsy Braddock has posed:
"The very insult to the Japanese culture that is this weapon," came the automatic response from Betsy as she drew the weapon fully from the sheath now. Because there was no need to respect it. It was not worthy of respect. Or even being carried into combat. "I am truly disappointed now, Wade. Which all things considered, that is saying something."

She looked at the weapon then glanced to Jessica. "It's metal. That is all I'm going to say for it."

Then a look back to Wade. "Plenty of his type on this side of the pond as well. They all deserve to have certain parts severed." She looked at the sword. "With really cheap weapons."

Jessica Drew has posed:
After throwing back her drink and setting it on the bar, Jessica applauds, "Hear, hear! We certainly don't have the patent on ugly. Here's to severing what needs with terrible imitation swords! Dull ones, mind you."

Wade Wilson has posed:
    "You know how many of those things I go through a week?" Wade says now as he finally accepts Weasel's admonishment and rolls off the table. "I cannot afford to run around with Muramasa blades or whatever hoity toity folded a million times because our iron is really low quality katanas." Wade hops to his feet and then shakes his head as he scoops up the other katana and tucks it back over his shoulder.
    "It's a tool." He says as he walks over to try and take the sword back from Psylocke unless she plays keep-away with it which will make him a SadPool. "I use it like a tool. Sure I look great doing it, and am a master swordsman. But I don't buy into that whole culture of guys naming their swords, or giving them souls or... whatever."
    He crinkles his nose behind the mask, "And before you go copping an attitude, The Hand gets three million a year from questionable vending machines. So you don't exactly have a high horse to stand on, Miss Braddock." He gives a nod, "Hrmf!"

Betsy Braddock has posed:
"I will stand on whatever high horse I choose. Just because the drones in the Hand choose to use subpar weaponry does not mean I will." And as Wade went to reclaim his weapon, Betsy paused for a moment. That hint of danger in the air as she eyed him while holding the weapon at her side. Then it was over and she slid the weapon back into the sheath and offered it, resting atop her palms.

"If you were using them properly, you wouldn't be breaking them so often. Do we need to have lessons?" Oh wouldn't that be a hoot. Considering he was a damn good swordsman. "Or just a reminder that them cutting through anything on the movies is fake?"

Jessica Drew has posed:
"I make no claims to expert sword handling though I can hold my own. Give me a wall to climb, anytime," Jess comments as she regards the momentary standoff between Braddock and Wade. Her bets are on Braddock.

"OH! Lessons would be lovely. I want to see you slice him up in the name of polishing his skills." A delighted smile spreads across her face.

Wade Wilson has posed:
    "Actually." Wade says as he touches a fingertip to the bridge of his nose as if pushing a pair of glasses back into place. "These are reinforced with a titanium alloy, so I use them sometimes for other things. Like, emergency grapple hooks, or thrown weapons, or descent stoppers, or whirly wheely jammers. Sure they break sometimes, and sometimes I lose them but... hey..."
    He points back and forth between the two of the young women there, "I am not a man beholden to material things. I am at peace in my zen ways. Perhaps some day you two shall join me on this plain of enlightenment. Especially you, JayDee. You are so violent. Embrace peace."
    Then Weasel's voice rises, "Didn't you just buy a new chrome-plated gun recently? For your birthday?"
    "That was a business expense." Wade explains calmly.
    "And isn't your birthday in April?"
    "Shh."

Betsy Braddock has posed:
"Did you say...descent stoppers?" Betsy was looking at him aghast now and she shook her head negatively. "Whirly wheely jammers? I don't even want to know what that one is. I mean I do, but I know it's going to be horrifying. Do you mean like...in the tire of a motorcycle while in motion?" As she tried to figure it out for herself.

But at mention of the gun for his birthday which was way back in April, Betsy had to laugh softly. "A business expense. That would imply you actually itemize on your taxes. Or, perhaps better yet, it implies you pay taxes."

Jessica Drew has posed:
"Woooo, chrome plated. Faaaancyyyy. Happy belated." She scrunches her face at Wade, then bats her big green eyes at him, "I'd rather embrace you and squeeze you to death, Wade in the name of peace."

She gives an emphatic nod to Betsy, "So there."

"Besides, who needs tools for emergency grapples and descent stoppers? The handicapped, I say." As an afterthought, "Do you think he makes enough to even pay taxes?"

Wade Wilson has posed:
    "You know, when you're falling and you're freaking out and you stab the sword into something to stop you from descending. Descent stopper!" Wade spreads his hands, "Whirly wheely jamming is a fine old technique. You sneak into an evil scientist's lair, and they're all busy monologing, and they have all these mechanisms whirring and buzzing and spinning. And you then let him know you're there, drop a quip, and then BAM! Stab the sword into the whirly wheely bits. Jammed."
    He then holds his hands up, "Whoa whoa now, I'm starting to feel like this is getting personal here. But be that as it may, I make bank, baby. I'm all Tony Stark without the hair gel."
    Wade strolls over to the bar and grabs the bowl of almonds from the counter, then turns back around. "And it's a 4-Bore rifle, the deadliest rifle known to man. I got it chromified. Because I like shiny things."

Betsy Braddock has posed:
Different whirly wheely bigs. So interfering with the cogs on a wheel. It actually made sense now that he explained it. Because, as much as she'd like to say otherwise, there were a surprising number of times one did find a mad scientist in just such a scenario.

And she'd thought it was just movies when she was a kid.

"Above board? No. I think he probably is under the income levels required since his money comes from less...legal pursuits." Being a mercenary for hire, outside actual security agencies, didn't really look good on the tax forms. "But I suspect that you do indeed ...make bank." She had to grin at the hair gel joke.

But the mention of the weapon has her eyes going wide. Because Betsy wasn't always a model or a club owner. She had worked in black ops before ever crossing the pond and joining the X-Men. So that was a weapon she had heard of. "...why? Why do you need a 4-bore ever? Outside a zombie apocalypse and I think we are safe from one of those since zombies aren't real." Please don't prove her wrong. She needed some sleep at night.

Jessica Drew has posed:
"Not all of us fall and freak out, Wade. I thought you were cooler than that, even if you don't use hair gel. Which is a point in your favor," she stabs a finger in his direction. "So plus one weighed against one hundred million negative points."

Swiveling to face Betsy, Jess shrugs and tilts her head in Wade's direction, "Over compensation."

Wade Wilson has posed:
    Wade points at Jessica with a gloved hand and says, "You are so cute when you're drunk. Makes me almost forget you're a scary half-spider monster with a weird ovipositor hidden behind your nostrils." A quick look is given to Elizabeth as he asides with a whisper, shielding his face with one hand as he confides in Psylocke. "It's true, it's why SHIELD doesn't let her have a partner."
    Then he pulls his mask up and pops a few almonds, chewing for a time. "And, to be fair, I didn't really want a 4-Bore, but Frank was crying the other day about how he couldn't get one since he killed the last arms dealer. I just wanted to get it and show it off to him. Thing kicks like a mule though."

Betsy Braddock has posed:
Jessica gets a slow nod from Betsy at her theory. Because it does seem sort of to fit that bill. But when the explanation comes, somehow it's even worse. "So you got it ...just to show someone else that you got one and he didn't? That's downright cruel, Wade," Betsy admonishes. But then again, she's in a mercenary bar and he gets paid to kill people so. Should she really be surprised if he does something mean?

"Unless you intend to give it to him for his birthday perhaps?" Just a little nudge back toward the path of good.

Though she does look to Jess. "I'm guessing it is more not wanting a partner. And even if they gave you one, they would never be able to keep up with you unless they were somehow gifted as well."

Wade Wilson has posed:
    Wade crinkles his nose and throws an almond casually at Jess and then says, "See you think she's being nice to you. But when she says 'gifted'..." Wade lifts his hands and makes air quotes, "She means '_gifted_' like you are 'gifted' in that you can count to potato. And that you have a very special 'gifted' olympics all for people like you. Definitely puts a spin on Xavier's school though. Very 'gifted' if you ask me."
    And that was the last anyone ever heard from Wade.
    The end.