"I have to tell you, Mister Poole, this will all be much easier if you tell us what you know."  The fat, sweaty man was fanning himself with a white Panama hat.  "Mister" sounded like "Meester," like a movie Mexican.

But, Raoul Escabado wasn't Mexican and this wasn't Mexico.   This was Cuba and, from what I had seen thus far, Cuba sucked.  I had been her for a week, the last two days in a prison cell.  Now, I was here.  

The room was small, maybe 12 by 12, made of grey cinderblock.  The door was thick enough to be sound proof.  I sat in a wooden chair, under a bright lamp.  In front of me was a table, behind which sat Escabado, wiping sweat from his face, a little white guy, and a tall, thin black haired woman.  I knew Escabado, the other two I was unfamiliar with.  Two other men stood on either side of me, both with pistols pointed at my head.

"We know that you know where Garcia has hidden the drugs and weapons.  You should tell us so that we can let you go home, to America, where you belong."

"Listen, tons o' fun, you're messing with the wrong hombre.  One, I'm an American.  Two, do you have any idea who I work for?"    

"Oh, yes, Mr. Poole," he said, sarcastically.  We here in Cuba are sooooo afraid of your American mob.  Obviously, we're honored to have an emissary such as yourself here.  We only question what you were doing with this rebel scum Garcia.  He seeks to overthrow our government here.  Did you know that?"

"Ok, fatass.  While you sit there, marinating in your own gravy, I'll explain things.  I'm here to trade guns for drugs.  Hold on."  I reached into my pockets.  The gunmen didn't flinch, they knew I was unarmed.  "Nope, I was just checking to see if I had a rat's ass to give.  Your little shithole revolution has nothing to do with me."

The woman stood.  "Mr. Poole.  Deadpool.  Does it surprise you that we know your real name?"

"Yeah, sure.  My alias is so mysterious.  Poole?  Deadpool?  Had to take fatty over there three weeks to decode it."

"Deadpool, it is vital that you talk to us.  Where did you meet with Garcia?  What kind of guns did you give him?  How many?  This is valuable information.  Tell us and you can go home."

I laughed.  "Sorry, lady.  Professional courtesy."  Plus, I liked Garcia.  He seemed like a nice guy.  

"Ok.  Then, I'd like you to meet Doctor Schlocktor.  He is an American, like you.  Doctor."

The little white guy stood and walked to a cart that sat in the corner of the room.  He pulled a white sheet from the top of the car to reveal a car battery wired to some device.  He pushed the cart toward me.

"Ooooh, I'm so scared.  Now you listen to me, bitch.  You too, fatty.  This ends now.  You tell your two goons here to take those guns away from my head and you open that door.  Otherwise, I can promise you I will personally kill you all.  Then, I'll make sure that my organization fully funds the revolution.  Comprende?"

I started to stand and one of the goons hit me in the face with his pistol.  I sat.  The two goons grabbed my arms and strapped them to the wooden chair.  As soon as I was restrained, the doctor took a little metal magic wand and touched my leg.

Every muscle in my body spasmed.  My nervous system felt like it was on fire.   I might have wet myself, but I wasn't sure.  

"That was the lowest setting, asshole," the doctor said.  I was beginning to doubt if he really was a doctor.  

"You should talk now, senor," the lady said.

"I'm going to enjoy killing you," I replied.  Then the doctor touched me again with the magic wand.

My muscles clenched again, lights shot through my head and I was aware of my arms flailing about.  I struggled to make sense of it.

I had broken the arms of the wooden chair.  Now, my arms were strapped to two planks of wood, with jagged splinters sticking out the opposite side.  Before I was even aware, I was moving.  

I swung my arms out to either side, slamming the arms of the chairs into the guts of the men guarding me.  The jagged remains of the chair sank into the flesh of one of the men, the wooden plank took the breath from the other.  I yanked my arm, loose from the guard I had impaled.  He had double over, trying to hold his guts in.  I hit the floor, grabbed his gun, and shot the other guard between the eyes.  

The lady was already pounding on the door.  Escabado was sweating even more profusely.  The doctor had dropped the magic wand.  I reached down and picked up the other man's pistol.

"Shut up, lady.  Soundproof door, unless I'm wrong."

She was silent.  I motioned for her and the doctor to sit back behind the table.  

"We can give you money.  Lots of money."  She was scared.  That made me feel a little better.

"Money?  You have to be kidding.  You just shocked the piss out of me, twice.  Literally."  I looked down to check my pants.  Yeah.  Bastards.

Escabado wiped his brow.  "Senor, please.  Even if you kill us all, how will you get out of this building?"

It was my turn to laugh.  "Don't worry about that.  Worry about me shooting you in the face."

He reached for a pack of cigarettes on the table.  "Do you mind if I smoke, senor?"

"Are you serious?  That shit will kill you.  You gotta kick the habit."  Then I shot him in the face.

Doctor Schlocktor began to sob.  The lady was shaking.

"Well, it's a cinch that the smokes won't kill him.  Damn.  I should be a doctor.  Speaking of, Doc, why don't you fire up that machine?"

He stood, still crying, and walked to the machine.  "Ok, senora, let's play a game.  I like to call it "shock the hell out of the bitch."  Sound fun?"

"Please, Deadpool.  No.  Not that.  I have a bank account.  It has millions.  Please.  Anything."

"Really, you shouldn't beg.  It's unbecoming.  Now, round one of "Shock-A-Bitch."  Catchy, isn't it?"

I pulled the cart closer to her and flipped the dial up to full power.  "Y-y-you can't do that," the doctor stammered.  It'll kill her.  

"Really?"  I picked up the magic wand and touched him on the head.

Sparks flew from his ears and his eyes rolled back in his head.  His body shook uncontrollably, smoke came out of his mouth and nose, as his body fell to the ground.

"Wow.  Did not expect that." I glanced at the woman.  She was still sitting, jaw agape.  "Do you have any idea what that did?  It must have completely shorted out his central nervous system.  Amazing, really.  Wow."

She started to stand.  I shot her in the gut.  She fell, holding her wound as blood seeped out.  I sat the wand on the ground, just out of her reach.  The puddle of blood was growing.  In a few minutes, it would reach the wand, but I'd be gone by then.  She'd have a little time to bleed, to think about the electrocution, then the electricity would travel through her blood into her body.  It would be impressive, but I didn't have time to worry about it.

I found a key on the guard's body, let myself out, and made my way from the building.   This drugs for guns scheme was a pain in my ass.  Next time, I'd just buy drugs in Detroit, like everyone else.

Quite a good story. Although you have to scroll to the left lol. But besides that, Bravo!

(OOC: A price I pay for occasionally using a MacBook, I suppose.  Thank you, just the same.)

Braavoo Poole ! Please keep it up.

Great story! I really like your detail.