Deadpool Page #12

Wade’s voice drops out as his breathing suddenly grows SHORTand SHALLOW. The oxygen dials fall. His HEART-RATE SOARS.

ANGEL DUST:

(chuckles)

He looks like a turd in a punch-bowl.

AJAX:

(bright idea)

The ‘Punch-Bowl!’

Wade fights off panic. His breaths become desperate GASPS.

There’s not enough air to talk, or even SCREAM.

DISSOLVE TO:

35A INT. WORKSHOP TENT - LATER 35A

Night. Eerily DARK, SILENT.

An extreme CLOSE-UP of Wade’s hand, nails clenched into the

surface of whatever he’s lying on. Is his skin... actuallyBUBBLING?

Two MEN enter the tent and stand over the PUNCH-BOWL.

CLICK. One of the men turns on a surgical light overhead,

revealing himself to be a KINDLY-looking DOCTOR, avuncular,

thick glasses. Next to him is an ORDERLY. The doctor peersthrough the Punch-Bowl’s lid. He is SURPRISED by what he

sees. He nods to the orderly: ‘Go on, hurry.’

The orderly quickly unlocks and unlatches the lid, thenswings it OPEN. Air RUSHES INTO the PUNCH-BOWL. The orderlysteps away, leaving the doctor alone in the room.

WADE, hidden in darkness, gasps as though surfacing afterbeing held underwater.

The doctor casts a SHADOW over WADE’s face inside. The

doctor is FASCINATED, ENLIVENED.

DOCTOR:

Mr. Wilson... these results are

remarkable.

Wade takes deep LUNGS-FUL of AIR.

(CONTINUED)

Deadpool Final Shooting Script 11/16/15 59.

35A CONTINUED:
35A

DOCTOR (CONT’D)

Your cancer cells are more aggressivethan ever. Dividing and metastasizing ata fantastic rate.

WADE:

(broken, breathless)

Yippee.

DOCTOR:

But... the cells have inalterablychanged. They’re no longer destructive,

but productive, selectively targeting andreplacing damaged tissue.

WADE:

That was a lot of... what’s the word...

syllables. Are you saying I’m better?

DOCTOR:

Better than better. A miracle.

WADE:

(weak smile)

My Mom used to call me that.

(ALT:
)

Me and Jesus.

(beat, to doctor)

Thank you. I owe you my life.

Wade grows choked up. The doctor is taken with empathy andaffection. He tenderly brushes the hair off Wade’s forehead,

of which the camera catches the tiniest glimpse. Wade’s skin

is not RIGHT somehow.

DOCTOR:

There. There. Your journey’s been longand difficult. But you’ve becomesomething extraordinary. Just rest now.

Rest.

The doctor slowly exits. Wade lies there. Actually relaxes.

DEADPOOL (V.O.)

Then, just when I thought I could breathe

easy...

Who appears over the PUNCH-BOWL but...

...AJAX.

(CONTINUED)

Deadpool Final Shooting Script 11/16/15 60.

35A CONTINUED:
(2) 35A

AJAX:

Oo. Someone lost his shot at homecomingking.

WADE:

You f-f***ing sadistic-

AJAX:

No. Not fair. Everything I’ve done toyou has been in your best interest. Even

this next bit. You may be cured, but youstill need to learn to be a better man.

Polite. Respectful. What better way toteach you than to close this lid... andkeep torturing you stupid.

Ajax SLAMS the lid shut, LATCHES and LOCKS it. The hissing

resumes. Wade’s eyes grow wide. He starts to slip-slidetoward absolute ANGUISH.

DEADPOOL (V.O.)

If you think I’m losing my marbles ‘causeI can’t breathe. You’re only half right.

Ajax appears to be looking in at Wade. But we RACK FOCUS to

reveal he’s looking at his REFLECTION in the Plexiglas lid,

checking for stuff between his teeth.

DEADPOOL (V.O.)

See, if Francis was able to see his

reflection...

The camera SWINGS around to Wade’s POINT-OF-VIEW of Ajaxthrough the glass lid, which has been newly ILLUMINATED bythe surgical light above...

...and then RACKS FOCUS to WADE’s REFLECTED FACE. Covered

with HORRIFIC SCARS. Wade is no longer a handsome young man.

You know what they say. You always

He is a monster. Which is perfectly visible to him one foot

away.

DEADPOOL (V.O.)

remember your first time.

Wade throws back his head in a SILENT SCREAM.

DEADPOOL (V.O.)

Even 5 years later...

Deadpool Final Shooting Script 11/16/15 61.

36 EXT./INT. SCRAP-YARD / GROUND - DAY - PRESENT 36

Back in the PRESENT, we find ourselves in a huge SCRAP-YARD,

where various ships, planes, etc. are sold for scrap iron.

Among various vehicles is an OLD, BATTERED COMBAT CARRIER,

long given up for dead.

A heavy truck navigates through the heaps of scrap-metal andgrinds to a stop in front of the carrier.

Two heavyset MEN climb down and head toward the back of thetruck, heave the heavy door open.

AJAX and ANGEL DUST stand just inside, boxes and gear piledup behind them. They hop down as four more rough-looking menpile out behind them.

Angel Dust drags out a WOODEN CRATE. The planks crunch asshe digs her fingers into the wood and heaves it up on oneburly shoulder as if it weighed no more than a sack of flour.

Heavy AMMO peeks through.

ANGEL DUST:

Better to be the hunter than the hunted.

Ajax and Angel Dust walk across the muddy yard toward aservice elevator bolted to the rusting hulk of the carrier.

AJAX:

Either I kill him, or he kills me. Let’s

put him out of our misery...

VA37 INT. GARBAGE TRUCK - DAY VA37

DEADPOOL lays horizontal. He is speaking to the AUDIENCE:

DEADPOOL:

There... all caught up.

He CLIMBS up and out of the GARBAGE TRUCK.

DEADPOOL (CONT’D)

(yells to driver)

Thanks for the lift! Apologies if I bled

in the recyclables.

37 INT./EXT. DEADPOOL’S LAIR - DAY - PRESENT 37

A mid-city DUPLEX. Borderline ghetto. Semi-furnished,

‘first apartment’ quality: futons and torchiere lamps.

(CONTINUED)

Deadpool Final Shooting Script 11/16/15 62.

37 CONTINUED:
37

Stained carpet, currently being swept by a roaming ROOMBA.

IKEA... everywhere.

The same old AFRICAN-AMERICAN WOMAN we glimpsed early in themovie - late 70’s - purple floral dress - sits on a rattycouch, where the typical old woman might KNIT.

Instead, this old woman uses a BOX-CUTTER to lay waste to aBIG CARDBOARD BOX from IKEA - the ‘IVAR SHELVING UNIT.’

She lays out its components and tools on a wobbly IKEA NORNASCOFFEE TABLE...

...made more difficult by the fact that she is completelyBLIND. This is Deadpool’s roommate, BLIND AL.

Suddenly, Blind Al’s KEEN EAR picks up a faint, distantKNOCKING. She c*cks her head to LISTEN.

38 EXT. DEADPOOL’S LAIR - DAY - PRESENT 38

ANGLE ON THE FRONT YARD:

Dirt. No grass. ‘93 Chevy Avon up on BLOCKS. An exhausted

DEADPOOL is slumped against his own front door, red suit, nomask, no right HAND. He is KNOCKING weakly on the door withthe SIDE of his HEAD.

39 INT. DEADPOOL’S LAIR - DAY - PRESENT 39

ANGLE ON THE LIVING ROOM:

BLIND AL stands up in comfy creme nursing shoes. Grabs her

red-tipped CANE. And shuffles toward the front door...

...when she is TRIPPED by the ROOMBA. She FACE-PLANTS.

DEADPOOL (O.S.)

(from outside)

Let’s get ready to Rooooooomba!

BLIND AL:

(under breath)

Ass-hat.

Al SWINGS her cane angrily, again and again, trying to hitthe robotic vacuum, which moves happily just out of reach.

She reaches her knees and stretches for the door when...

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