Summary: Summary? What's that, like a recap page? Ugh, fine.

Hey True Believers, bronies and pegasisters, (Seriously? Ponies? After you read Deadpool Now #27? I hate you so much.) Deadpool here! I was trying to steal this Pan(sexual! Heey-o!)dimensional Vacuuming Thing-a-Majig when, I dunno, whatever villain's popular this year, Ultron, I guess. Yeah! When Ultron showed up and ruined everything! Wait, what's that? Oh, this story isn't actually about my awesome battle with Ultron?

Forget I mentioned that creepy robot, then. He's a jerk, anyways. Who wants to read about him?

What is this story actually about, you ask endearingly, dear reader?

This story is about only the most charming, sexiest, bad-assiest mercenary in Marvel, that's yours truly, me, Deadpool, getting turned into a futzing pony. What did ya think this story was about from the first line, du- ugh whaddya mean I can't insult the readers? And we're running out of room?

I'mDeapoolandnowI'maponyreadmystoryOKbye!

Deadpool (C) Marvel Comics
My Little Pony (C) Hasbro

Chapter The First

In which Our Hero awakens in a Strange Forest and meets a Mare

In the Everfree Forest a pony woke up. He rubbed his head groggily and muttered to himself, "I don't care how much money they throw at me. The next time I see that pan-dimensional whatsit I'm gonna break it into Itty-bitty little pieces and burn it," he gazed at his surroundings bleary-eyed.

"This doesn't look like Kansas," he said while standing up and stretching his legs, his wings remaining at his sides. His voice was rough and distinctive, the sort of voice one could not forget if one heard it. His pristine wings and luxurious tail were a stark contrast to the rest of his heavily scarred body. The scarring was so severe that he had no mane. His original coat color was impossible to make out, now it was pale with scars. His cutie mark was a pony mask in the dia de los Muertos style. Red was a prominent accent color.

"Close enough. Does everything seem taller to you? Or is it just me?" he asked himself. He studied the canopy and realized that it was impossible to determine the direction from the sun or the stars. "Well, this is just fan-fucking-tastic," he said, then sighed theatrically and set out in a random direction. "Seriously though, something feels a little off," he said, to himself again, while walking in his chosen direction.

"Crap. You're right! Where are my clothes? My custom made—" he began, then paused in the middle of his distress to tilt his head and ears as if he was listening to somepony speak. He did not stop walking. His ears then flicked in a different direction, as if listening to a second speaker.

"Shaddup. Making it yourself is totally custom made. Anyways, where did all of our crap go?" he asked, apparently himself, or possibly the forest. The forest didn't respond. He looked down at his body to confirm the lack of possessions with his own eyes. He stared at his front hooves. "Am I hallucinating again?"

He raised one hoof up to his face for closer inspection. He wiggled it about. It remained a hoof. He sniffed his hoof dubiously. It smelled of dirt and rotting leaves. Cautiously, he licked his hoof. It tasted like the floor of a temperate forest. He grimaced at the taste and set his hoof back down. Just as it seemed that he was going to continue on his way he suddenly bit his hoof hard enough to bruise the tender frog.

"Ow!" he said, and shook his hoof. He examined his hoof once more and the bruise faded away as he watched. He nodded at this development and resumed walking. "At least I'm still awesome!" he declared to all within hearing range as he continued onwards.

—

After some time walking with purpose but without aim the scarred pony reached a small trail. It could have been a wide game trail, or a small foot path in a poor, rural area. He did not recognize the forest that he was in and was unwilling to make assumptions.

"You know what they say about assuming things," he said as he chuckled.

"I know what they say is crass as can be. Those who assume make an ass of both you and me," said a melodic female voice.

The scarred pony leapt with great agility and landed in a threatening pose on his hind legs, forelimbs ready to strike. His wings were strangely resting against his barrel. His threatening pose was ruined however when he tripped on his tail and fell in a heap at the hooves of the voice's owner. The owner of the voice was an exotic zebra that was wearing golden necklaces and bracelets. She had a stylized sun as a cutie mark. She was just off the trail, in a patch of strange berry bushes. She was in the midst of gathering the berries into a hoofwoven basket.

"There is no need for such a production, I was quite rude, it is true. I apologize for my prior interjection. I hope this can satisfy you. Zecora is my name, would you care to offer the same?" the lady zebra, Zecora, said. The scarred stallion stood up and waggled his eyebrows suggestively.

"I can think of more satisfying things than names, little miss sassy pants," he said in what he clearly thought of as a charming manner. She seemed puzzled by his response, instead of outraged. His ears flicked as if listening to somepony. His eyes grew distant and he swiveled his ears in a different direction, as if listening to another pony speak. He looked puzzled.

"Yeah, why didn't she run away screaming from our handsome mug?" he asked, rubbing his chin. It didn't appear that he meant to address Zecora, but she responded as if he had.

"I am no little pony, to hide from those that are strange. Your hide is well worn, it is true, but rare is the stallion so unadorned—" she gestured at his scars, "—in my home grange," she finished. Then she began walking toward the path that he was inadvertently blocking. He moved aside and followed her down the hoof path. "My chore here is through. If it is Ponyville—" The scarred stallion made a face of distaste while mouthing the town name. As Zecora was slightly ahead of him she did not notice his reaction and continued speaking. "-that is your goal, I have some advice, if you would share with me a hot stew bowl?" she said and turned her head to meet his bright eyes.

"I never turn down free food!" he replied. He pronked in place in celebration then paused. He gazed into the distance and his ears flicked as if listening to a conversation. "It would be a shame," he agreed with no one. "You sure are awfully chummy with someone you just met, tootsie pop. Haven't you heard of stranger danger? I bet you get lots of less than savory types out here in this nice, secluded, out of the way forest," he said in concern.

"Everypony is what is said in Equish," she said. "Your concern is touching, but soft, now. I make creatures far more fearsome than ponies go 'squish'." She said with confidence.

He clapped his hooves in delight, and pressed against her like a school filly ready to gossip with a friend. "Oh! Do tell!" he shrieked as close to girlishly as he could manage. Zecora raised her head back in surprise and swished her tail.

"It is of nothing to boast, don't get the wrong notion. I can stop beasts with a toast, and heal ponies with a potion." She said. The strange stallion resumed walking next to her.

"So you're a hoodoo lady," he said while he nodded. "That can be powerful stuff. Not as awesome as me of course!" he stopped walking to pose and flex, then bounced ahead to pose theatrically. Zecora paused as well, her eyes sparkled with amusement until they settled on his unmoving wings.

She gestured to them and asked, "Your wings are unnaturally still, have you suffered some ill?"

"I have wings?!" he yelled, in such a way that it was both an exclamation and a question. He looked quite surprised and tilted his head so that he could see his back. He spun in a circle in his excitement as he began flexing his wings. He caught one wing in his mouth and stopped spinning. His other wing flapped in excitement. He roughly pulled his leading primary feather out and began examining it with his mouth and hooves. His missing feather was quickly replaced with another.

"Do my eyes deceive me? You have one too many feathers primary!" Zecora exclaimed.

"Oh. Yeah. Blah blah, origin story, blah blah, healing factor. Totes normal for the Regenerating Degenerate you see before you," he said casually, waving his hoof absently as he spoke. He dropped his feather and made a clumsy attempt at hovering in place. "Falcon makes this look so easy," he muttered to himself. Zecora was surprised at this turn of events.

"Do you mean that these wings of yours were not on you when you were born? How does an earth pony come by wings but no horn? To seek godhood has been the doom of many a greedy pony, one must be blessed by a Princess to become an alicorn." Zecora said in concern.

"Ugh, why would I want to be a god? Asgardians are self-righteous douche nozzles," he said with derision. Zecora was comforted by this though she clearly did not understand his strange insult. "You're right about little baby Poolie not being born with wings though. These are new." He tried to gesture at his whole body and said, "This whole caboodle is new. Well, mostly new, I'm still a crazy awesome stud!" He posed in mid air and flexed in a way that showed off his peak physical condition. It also showed off his horrific scarring. "Hehehe, see what I did there." He giggled and winked at his terrible pun. He resumed his awkward flight next to Zecora as they walked down the path. Suddenly, a squirrel leapt out of a tree and landed on his broad muzzle. The squirrel offered the scarred stallion a flower.

His eyes widened and he screamed. "Oh gods I didn't do it! There's no need for you to call your buddies! Leave her out of this!" He flailed in ineffective terror and leapt at Zecora. "Save me!" he shrieked. The squirrel leapt off his face and back to its tree, taking its flower back with it. It was clearly offended. Zecora reared up in surprise at suddenly having a full grown stallion clinging to her. The panicked stallion was knocked off of her and back into the air. He flapped his wings, wobbled and then crashed into a nearby thorn bush. "Argh, why does it burn?" he wailed piteously. Zecora looked quite alarmed when he crashed. He managed to launch himself out of the painful thorn bush quickly, but he still had several ugly orange and black thorns stuck in his skin. They pulsed rather like a bee stinger. He landed on all four hooves and bucked and shook in an effort to remove them.

"Still your fighting so I may help! These thorns will do more than make you yelp!" Zecora said quickly. He immediately stopped his flailing.

"Is it gone? Is it gone!" he screamed. His muscles were jumping and twitching under his coat.

"The squirrel is gone, now hold calm yourself before you host screaming thorn spawn!" Zecora said as she slapped his face. The blow snapped him out of his hysteria and he stood still before her. Blood stained his pale coat where the thorns were pushing themselves deeper into his flesh. Zecora moved closer, and began carefully pulling the thorns out with her mouth. He reached up with his hoof and began brushing at the thorns he could easily reach. The thorns he manhandled broke off inside his flesh instead of falling out. Zecora swatted at his hoof with her tail and gave him a stern look, her mouth occupied with removing the thorns.

He grinned, unrepentant, and continued to brush at the thorns within easy his front hooves, "Healing factor, remember?" He said. He seemed to have forgotten his previous outburst, or was perhaps pretending it had not happened. The thorns without their strange, pulsating not-quite-a-heart to drive them deeper were pushed out of his body by his healing tissues. The cruelly barbed thorn tips fell to the ground with wet plops, leaving red trails in their wake. His that muscles twitched near the puncture wounds settled back down a few moments after the holes closed.

Zecora still continued to carefully and quickly remove thorns with her mouth. As she worked his eyes grew distant and his ears swiveled as if listening to a conversation. The forest creatures were completely silent. The only sounds to be heard were the moist pops of thorns being freed from flesh, the muffled sound of them dropping to the leaf litter as Zecora tossed them to the ground, and two ponies breathing. Her efforts yielded quite a pile of bloodied, poison oozing thorns.
After a few moments the scarred stallion nodded his head as if in agreement with somepony and said with a serious expression, "The name's Wade."

Suddenly cheerful again, he stepped away from the zebra mare and with a quick, awkward flick of his wings broke off the rest of the thorns, allowing his healing factor to take over. His healing factor did not return the spilled blood to his body, which left his coat messy with red streaks.

"But I'm also known as your friendly neighborhood Deadpool!" He said as he waved a 'hello' at no pony in particular and posed dramatically as he introduced himself. He broke his dramatic pose to gaze at Zecora intently, and then leaned in close, with an only slightly creepy grin, and said, "Red's a good color on you, candy lips."

Zecora's lips were indeed red and sticky with his blood. She pulled her ears back and flicked her tail, clearly annoyed. Wade did not seem to notice and continued talking while she walked over to a nearby leafy plant and wiped her mouth on its leaves.

"That was awfully nice of you, pulling those nasty things outta my hide like that. Most friends—" he looked annoyed, as if he had been interrupted, and said, "They only try to kill me sometimes, that is plenty compelling evidence for friendship." He looked satisfied, as if he had proven a point. "Anyways," he declared loudly, in the manner of one pony talking over another. Zecora was now rinsing her mouth out with water that had been collected from a different, nearby plant. "They would have left me to my very manly display of anger and not at all girly screaming fear. At least until my healing factor took care of the poison. Nasty stuff, by the way, I don't recommend it."

Zecora crushed the base of each removed thorn beneath her hooves and gestured at Wade to do the same. When they were all destroyed she began leading him down the trail again and said, "I could never leave a creature to the mercies of the Screaming Thorn. Its poison is death most foul when dosed in full from one barb alone. If what you say is true, it is tragic. Friends do not leave each other to such a fate." She appeared deeply disturbed at the thought of anypony being left in such dire straights. "Those you call friends have kindness unknown, that they would have you such pain born."

Wade shrugged his wings and made a flippant gesture with his hoof. "Killing me doesn't keep me dead, you know, and it really is the only way to shut me up," he said while he nodded. His eyes grew distant for a moment. "Either that or lots and lots of duct tape."

"What you say may be so, but my eyes saw your pain. I thought that curses cannot be, but it appears upon you somepony did one bestow." She looked sad and thoughtful. "True friends, I think you need. In Ponyville you will find the Princess of Magic, let her share her spark with you and be freed."

"Oh a quest, let me update my journal!" he said, clearly excited. He stopped walking, reached into his tail and pulled out a red map pencil and hand made journal with his logo crudely drawn in crayon on the cover. He muttered to himself as he wrote in the book with his mouth. His mouth writing was English instead of Equish, and was barely legible. It read "Story Quest: Find/rescue?! ;) Princess of "Magic" Quest Reward: Phat Lootz, Chimichangas!" Zecora paused a moment at his odd behavior, shook her head, and then continued down the path.

"We will soon reach my humble home, my amenities are crude, it is true. I hope the lack of plumbing does not bother you," Zecora said. They came around a bend in the path and her hut was visible some distance away. Wade put his pencil and journal back in his tail and pronked towards Zecora's hut.

"Don't worry about it, toots. Ol' Wadey has stayed in plenty worse dives than this!" Wade said as he stopped before the door to her hut. He paced the diameter of the hut and leapt onto the roof before Zecora had reached the clearing. He scanned the surrounding area with a critical eye. Zecora raised an eyebrow but did not comment on his strange behavior. He leapt down from the roof to meet her at her door. "Nice arrangement, hard to sneak up on, good line of sight from the windows. Fire would take it out right quick though."

Zecora shook her head and said, "The Everfree is dangerous, it is true, but I have no worry for fire. The wood is cured from icewood trees and the thatch is woven with dried windigo's pyre." She opened the door and led the peculiar pony inside her hut. "Everypony knows in order to ward off a house fire you must use dried windigo's pyre. Proper defensive measures are common in my homeland, but fair Equestria has known peace for centuries. You do not have the carriage of a Saddle Mareabian nomad. Where can a pony fail to learn what all should know, but get training for such a peculiar demand?" She asked as she ladled hot stew from a cast iron pot into bowls. He looked around and then took out his red pencil and journal from his tail and scribbled down "look room" in English and then placed his pencil and journal back in his tail. He cocked his ears and waited as if listening for something.

A cauldron filled with water took up the center of the room. Near the window the cook pot was bubbling over a banked fire. Masks of greeting and welcome from Zecora's native land hung cheerfully on the walls of the room. Stoppered gourds and drying herbs hung from the ceiling. A comfortable looking raised bed was in the back of the room. Curiously, it was covered in a leopard pelt large enough to comfortably cover at least two adult ponies. Many unlabeled bottles, jars, and stoppered gourds lined the shelves of an alcove to the right. A bookcase lined with well loved books and potion ingredients was next to the alcove. A curtained doorway was to the left.

"Oh, the lovely and hospitable land of the Great White North ain't all eskimo kisses and tourist traps," he said. Zecora placed the stew bowls on a small table nearby. She then walked over to a basin and pulled a clean cloth from underneath.

"While we wait for the heat from our bowls to fade, use this to clean yourself, Wade." She said as she dipped the cloth in the water the basin contained and brought it over to Wade. He awkwardly stood on his hind legs and grabbed it with his front hooves. He clumsily began cleaning the blood off of his coat and wings with the wet cloth. Zecora placed two cups onto a tray and poured juice from a stoppered gourd into them. She carried the tray to the small table and set it down. Wade had wiped the blood off in such a way that his coat and feathers were now tinged pink.

"Lightish red," he said to no one, he definitely was not addressing Zecora. She looked around for whomever he was speaking to and swished her tail in mild annoyance. She sat at the small table and gestured for Wade to join her. He sat down and clumsily slurped at his stew. Zecora ate her stew quite daintily. While they ate, Wade flicked his ears as if listening to a conversation that Zecora couldn't hear. He belched loudly and wiped his mouth with the back of his hoof.

"It wasn't a chimichanga, but I guess it was pretty good," he said as he stood. He fluttered his wings and scanned the room from long ingrained habit. He sniffed the juice, shrugged, and tossed it down in one gulp. He smacked his lips and nodded. "Not bad for something healthy." Zecora finished her soup and collected their dirty dishes on the tray. Wade used his hind hoof to scratch an itch and watched as she put the dishes in a wash basin. "So you said something about this Ponyville and Princesses and going there," he said as he watched her clean the dishes. His ears flicked as if listening to a pony speak and he looked annoyed. "Ugh, fine," he said, then he picked up a clean cloth and started drying the dishes. Zecora looked pleased at his assistance, however graceless it was.

When she was finished rinsing the dishes and her mouth was free she replied, "Yes, so I spoke. In Ponyville resides the Princess of Friendship and Magic. I will lead you to the edge of the Everfree. From there, her castle you will see. Once in sight it is but a short walk or fast flight." Zecora pulled out a plain cloak and helped Wade to put it on. It did not cover him as well as it covered Zecora, but it was enough that nopony should faint or run from the sight of his extremely disconcerting appearance. "For now, borrow my trusty traveling cloak," she said. She checked the banked fire under the cooking pot and looked around her hut. Seeing that all was in order she nodded and walked towards the front door. Her tail flicked at Wade and he followed her out the door.

He gazed around the clearing and peered suspiciously into the trees while Zecora locked up her hut. They walked down the well worn path from her hut to the town of Ponyville. Wade muttered to himself about crazy girls, and squirrels. He stayed close to Zecora and kept his gaze flitting between the trees. As they skirted the poison joke patch Zecora warned him about it.

"These leaves of blue enjoy playing jokes on you. Keep away and you will have a good day," She said. He stared at the plants with curiosity as they passed by them. Abruptly he looked around at the forest with suspicion. No friendly animals leapt out to startle him, no errant rocks tripped him. They reached the edge of the Everfree without incident. Zecora stopped so that he could take in the scene that spread before them. He gazed at the massive castle made from crystal and whistled.

"Whoo-wee baby, that is some fancy palace," he said. Craters littered the countryside and town as if from an air strike or missile bombardment. Despite the serious damage to the town, ponies could be seen in the distance going about their day to day business. They could see that there were ponies in golden armor leading and helping work crews near the worst houses and craters.

"What you see before you was built with the magic of friendship. I know it is hard to believe. Yet whole from the ground did this castle heave." Zecora said. Wade laughed.

"Why flipping not? Magic is powered by friendship here. Makes as much sense as anything else in my life," he said. He pointed a forehoof at the castle and declared loudly, "Onward!" Zecora laughed at his antics.

"I am glad you are so eager to meet your fate, alas I cannot stay to see what awaits. I must return to my chore—" Zecora said, and was interrupted by Wade.

"I hope I wasn't a bore!" he said, and then giggled. Zecora flicked her ear in amusement.

"Boring you were not. But being a bit boorish you have been caught," she said.

"Ah, baby, honey, tootsie pop, you wound me," he said. He held a hoof to his chest as if injured and made comically pitiful faces at Zecora. She chuckled and turned back towards the Everfree.

"Farewell, goodbye, and on your 'quest' good luck. You are welcome to stop by—" Wade's wings popped out and he grinned lecherously. "—if you get stuck." Zecora was already walking away and missed his embarrassing lack of control over his wings.

His face fell momentarily and he muttered to himself in disappointment. Then he looked at his wings in confusion. "That was weird," he said as he tried unsuccessfully to fold them back against his body. He shrugged and started walking towards the colossal, crystal castle; with wings awkwardly stiff. His ears flicked back and forth, as if listening to two ponies speaking. He mumbled indistinctly to himself, and then said, "No, don't be stupid." After a few minutes of walking his wings relaxed. He stretched his wings experimentally and contemplated the castle, then gazed at his wings. "I probably won't crash into a fatally poisonous plant again. Probably," he said. His ears twitched as if he had heard a response to his statement and he looked determined. He launched himself up and slightly forward with a powerful leap and flew towards the colossal crystal castle.