NEED.DICK: The Solo Adventures of Colossus

[colossus]

Colossus stood at the edge of the cliff, his immense frame towering over the surrounding landscape like a colossus of legend. His mask, adorned with a menacing design, concealed his expressions but not his intentions. Muscles rippled under his wrestling attire, glinting under the sun. Birds chirped nearby, unaware of the turmoil within the giant. He clenched his fists, the knuckles cracking loudly.

“Grrrrr,” he growled, his deep voice echoing off the cliffs.

Dick Trickle, his manager and only true friend, had been kidnapped by the nefarious Damage, the archenemy of EPW’s most formidable wrestlers. Without Dick, Colossus was like a ship without a rudder. His grunts and growls, once interpreted flawlessly by his friend, now seemed to fall on deaf ears. Colossus was lost, and his search had so far been in vain.

“Urrghhh,” he sighed, scanning the horizon. He needed a new plan. Dick was out there somewhere, and Colossus wouldn’t rest until he found him.

With determination, Colossus stomped down the hill, the ground trembling under his massive weight. As he approached the city, the bustling sounds of urban life surrounded him. People glanced his way, some snapping photos, others steering clear of his imposing figure.

“Hmmmm,” he grumbled thoughtfully as he passed a street vendor selling hot dogs. His stomach growled louder than he did, and the vendor looked up in fear.

“Umm, can I help you, big guy?” the vendor asked nervously.

Colossus pointed at the hot dogs and grunted, “Uhh!”

The vendor quickly handed over a hot dog, which Colossus devoured in a single bite. He nodded appreciatively, dropped a few crumpled bills on the cart, and continued his journey.

As he wandered, he noticed a crowd gathered outside a small, trendy coffee shop. Intrigued, he pushed through the crowd, his immense frame making a path without effort.

“Hey, Colossus! Over here!” a young woman with bright pink hair called out. She wore a t-shirt that read “Espresso Yourself” and waved energetically.

Colossus tilted his head, his curiosity piqued. The barista handed him an oversized cup, steam billowing from its top.

“Grrmm?” he questioned, pointing at the cup.

“It’s our new Colossal Coffee, named after you!” the barista explained.

Colossus took a cautious sip, then his eyes widened. “Mmm!” he exclaimed, downing the entire cup in one go. The crowd erupted in applause, and for a brief moment, Colossus felt a flicker of joy. Maybe this day wouldn’t be so bad after all.

Buoyed by his caffeinated success, Colossus continued his exploration. He spotted a comic book store across the street and, feeling nostalgic, made his way over. The bell above the door jingled as he entered, the smell of ink and paper enveloping him. Rows of colorful comic books lined the walls, and action figures stood proudly on display.

“Welcome to Superhero Central! How can I help you today?” asked the store clerk, a gangly teenager with thick glasses and a Spider-Man t-shirt. His eyes widened when he realized who had just walked in. “Whoa, you’re Colossus!”

Colossus nodded, trying to keep his head from scraping the ceiling. “Urrgh,” he grunted, gesturing around the store.

“Feel free to browse! We have a whole section dedicated to you and the EPW,” the clerk said, pointing to a corner where a life-sized cardboard cutout of Colossus stood next to a towering shelf of comic books and memorabilia.

Colossus wandered over, a wave of nostalgia washing over him as he flipped through the comic books. He chuckled inwardly at the exaggerated depictions of his battles, the dramatic poses, and the witty banter that seemed much more polished on paper than in real life. Lost in his reverie, he didn’t notice the small child tugging at his leg until he looked down.

“Hi, Mister Colossus,” the boy said, his eyes wide with awe. “Are you really that strong?”

Colossus knelt down, his massive frame towering over the child even as he crouched. “Mm-hmm,” he affirmed with a nod.

The boy’s eyes sparkled. “Wow! Can you lift a car?”

Colossus grinned and, seeing a toy car nearby, lifted it effortlessly with one hand. The boy squealed with delight, and the store erupted in cheers and laughter.

After a few more minutes of entertaining his newfound fans, Colossus reluctantly decided it was time to move on. He thanked the clerk, posed for a few more photos, and stepped back out onto the busy street. As he walked, he couldn’t help but feel a little better. The city’s energy was infectious, and the kindness of strangers had given him a much-needed boost.

But just as he was beginning to feel hopeful again, a shrill scream pierced the air. Colossus’s instincts kicked in, and he sprinted towards the source of the noise. He rounded a corner to find an old woman standing on a park bench, clutching her purse and pointing at a tree. “Help! My cat’s stuck in the tree!”

Colossus suppressed a laugh. Of all the crises he had dealt with, this one seemed almost comically simple. He approached the tree, his metal skin glinting in the sunlight. “Mmm,” he grunted reassuringly.

He reached up, his massive hands easily grasping the branch where the cat was perched. But as he gently tried to coax the feline down, it hissed and swiped at him. “Feisty little thing, aren’t you?” Colossus thought, trying to avoid the cat’s claws. It only came out, however, as a "MMMRRGRMM"

After a few unsuccessful attempts, Colossus finally managed to grab the cat by the scruff of its neck and lift it down. The old woman burst into tears of gratitude as she hugged her pet, and Colossus couldn’t help but feel a swell of pride.

“Thank you, thank you!” she gushed, patting his arm. “You’re a hero!”

Colossus smiled inwardly, but his thoughts quickly returned to Dick. The day’s distractions had been enjoyable, but they were just that—distractions. He needed to refocus and find his manager. As he made his way through the park, he spotted a familiar face: Deadpool, sitting on a bench and munching on a chimichanga.

“Hey, fatty! What’s up?” Deadpool called out, waving enthusiastically.

Colossus sighed deeply, approaching the bench. “Urrgh. Hrmph.”

Deadpool took a big bite of his chimichanga, chewing thoughtfully before answering. “Nope, not a peep. But I did hear there’s a new taco truck downtown. Wanna check it out?”

Colossus groaned. “Urrgh,” he grunted, shaking his head.

Deadpool’s expression softened—well, as much as it could behind his mask. “I know, big guy. But you need to take care of yourself too. How about this: we grab some tacos, and then I’ll help you with your search. Deal?”

Colossus hesitated. He knew Deadpool’s help often came with chaos, but he was running out of options. “Hrmph,” he grumbled in agreement.

Deadpool leaped off the bench, pumping his fist in the air. “Taco time! This is gonna be awesome!”

As the unlikely duo made their way to the taco truck, Colossus couldn’t help but wonder if this was really the best use of his time. But as they reached the truck and the delicious aroma of sizzling meat filled the air, he decided that maybe a little break wouldn’t hurt. After all, even metal men needed to eat.

The taco truck was a vibrant, colorful affair, with a long line of eager customers waiting for their turn. Deadpool elbowed his way to the front, much to the chagrin of the people waiting in line. Colossus followed, offering sheepish apologies as he went.

"Two of everything, my good man!" Deadpool shouted at the bewildered vendor, slapping a wad of cash onto the counter. The vendor, momentarily taken aback by Deadpool’s brashness and Colossus’s imposing presence, quickly got to work.

As they waited for their food, Deadpool turned to Colossus, his eyes twinkling mischievously behind his mask. "So, biggie, any leads on where Dick might be?"

Colossus shook his head, a heavy sigh escaping his lips. “Mmm. Grrr,” he grunted, shaking his head.

Deadpool shrugged, patting Colossus on the back. "Hey, you found a cat in a tree. That’s gotta count for something, right?"

Colossus chuckled despite himself. “Mm-hmm,” he nodded.

Their food arrived, and the two sat down on a nearby bench to feast. Colossus found himself relaxing for the first time in days. Deadpool’s irreverent humor and the surprisingly delicious tacos lifted his spirits, if only temporarily.

“Gotta say, jumbo, you’re handling this pretty well. Most people would’ve lost their cool by now,” Deadpool said between bites.

“Hrmm,” Colossus grunted, taking a massive bite of his taco.

“Yeah, I get it. Dick’s like your right hand, man. You’re not complete without dick,” Deadpool mused.

Colossus nodded, his eyes reflecting a rare moment of vulnerability. “Grrr.”

After their impromptu meal, the two continued their search, wandering the city streets in a fruitless attempt to find any clue about Dick’s whereabouts. Hours passed, and as the sun began to set, Colossus felt the weight of his mission bearing down on him once more.

Suddenly, a commotion drew their attention. A group of kids were gathered around a television set displayed in a store window, watching the local news. The anchor’s voice caught Colossus’s ear.

“Breaking news: a mysterious figure resembling the notorious Damage has been spotted at an abandoned warehouse on the outskirts of the city. Authorities are advising caution.”

Colossus’s eyes widened, and he grabbed Deadpool’s arm, pointing at the screen. “Mmm! Grrr!”

Deadpool’s eyes sparkled with excitement. “Looks like we’ve got ourselves a lead, tubby! Let’s roll!”

Without wasting another moment, the two raced towards the outskirts of the city, Deadpool navigating with his usual chaotic energy, and Colossus charging ahead like a juggernaut. The warehouse loomed ahead, a dilapidated structure that screamed “villain hideout.”

“Okay, here’s the plan,” Deadpool began, but Colossus was already barreling towards the entrance. “Or we could just smash our way in. That works too.”

Colossus kicked the door open with a thunderous crash, his eyes scanning the dimly lit interior. The warehouse was filled with crates and old machinery, casting eerie shadows. In the center of the room, tied to a chair and looking worse for wear, was Dick Trickle.

“DICK!” Colossus bellowed, his voice echoing through the warehouse. The single word, the first he had spoken in full, reverberated with raw emotion.

“ME NEED DICK. WE WANT DICK. DICK!!” he roared, his powerful voice shaking the very walls.

Damage's henchman stepped out from the shadows, a sinister grin on his face. “Well, well, if it isn’t Colossus. You’re just in time for the main event.”

Colossus’s eyes blazed with fury as he charged at Damage, his massive fists swinging with unrestrained power. Damage tried to dodge, but Colossus was relentless, his every move fueled by his desire to save his friend. Deadpool, meanwhile, took on the henchmen with his usual flair, cracking jokes and delivering swift justice.

The battle was intense, the sound of clashing metal and shouts filling the air. But Colossus was unstoppable. With a final, devastating punch, he sent Damage crashing into a pile of crates, knocking him out cold.

Panting heavily, Colossus rushed to Dick’s side, ripping the ropes apart with ease. “Urrgh?” he grunted softly, his eyes filled with concern.

Dick, bruised but smiling, looked up at his friend. “You did it, big guy. You found me.”

Colossus grunted in relief, his eyes softening. “Me need Dick. We want Dick. Dick!” he repeated, the words now filled with warmth and gratitude.

Dick chuckled weakly, patting Colossus’s arm. “And I need you too, buddy. Let’s get out of here.”

As they made their way out of the warehouse, Deadpool caught up with them, a broad grin on his face. “Well, that was fun! What’s next, Lardi B?”

Colossus grunted appreciatively, his spirits lifted by the successful rescue and the unexpected camaraderie. For the first time in weeks, he felt like everything was going to be okay.

Back in the city, Colossus, Dick, and Deadpool celebrated their victory with more tacos and laughter. Colossus, though still a man of few words, felt a newfound sense of confidence. He had saved his friend, and in doing so, had found his own voice.

As the night wore on, Colossus looked around at his friends, his heart swelling with gratitude. He raised his taco in a toast. “To friends,” he said, his deep voice resonating with sincerity. “To Dick.”

The group raised their tacos in unison, cheering and laughing. Colossus knew that, no matter what challenges lay ahead, he could face them with the strength of his friends by his side. And for that, he was truly grateful.

"Think I can take this promo, Dickens?" 

A bruised Dick gave him a thumbs up.

"Alrighty then!"

---

Deadpool sauntered into the spotlight, twirling his katanas before dramatically sheathing them with a flourish. He looked out at the crowd, his eyes glinting mischievously behind his mask. Clearing his throat, he raised a finger, signaling for silence. The audience, eager for his trademark banter, quickly complied. Deadpool grinned, ready to unleash his verbal onslaught.

"Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls, and all you fine folks in between, gather 'round! It’s time to discuss the biggest joke in wrestling since the Great Khali tried ballet: Hunter Valentyne!" Deadpool began, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

"Now, Hunter likes to call himself a 'Valentyne.' A name that screams romance, elegance, sophistication... and yet, the only thing he’s romancing is the mirror, whispering sweet nothings to his own reflection. Seriously, Hunter, that hair? Looks like a porcupine had a bad hair day and decided to take refuge on your scalp. And those tights? I’ve seen less spandex in a 90’s workout video."

The crowd erupted in laughter, and Deadpool milked the moment, pausing for effect. "But let’s get to the meat of it. Hunter Valentyne, the self-proclaimed 'master of the ring.' More like the master of doing nothing but running his mouth and flexing those overinflated biceps. I’ve seen more action in a grandma’s knitting club than in one of Hunter’s matches. Hey, at least they know how to finish a pattern!"

Deadpool began pacing, his tone becoming more animated. "And what’s with the constant need for validation, Hunter? Always prancing around, begging for the crowd's approval like a lost puppy. Newsflash, buddy: charisma isn’t something you can buy at GNC, no matter how many protein shakes you chug."

He mimicked Hunter’s typical ring entrance, complete with exaggerated strutting and muscle flexing, then pretended to look at an imaginary watch. "Oh, is it time for Hunter's daily ego trip? Don’t worry, folks, it won’t be long. His stamina is about as impressive as a wet noodle."

Deadpool’s voice dropped into a conspiratorial whisper. "And the promos, oh dear Lord, the promos. I’ve heard better smack talk from a toddler who just learned the word 'poopy.' Hunter’s attempts at intimidation are like watching a cat try to scare off a vacuum cleaner. You just end up feeling sorry for the poor guy."

Straightening up, Deadpool faced the crowd, his tone becoming mock-serious. "Now, I’m not saying Hunter Valentyne is a complete waste of space. No, no. He’s perfect—if you need a cautionary tale about the dangers of steroid abuse and the tragic downfall of someone who peaked in high school."

He shook his head, a look of exaggerated pity on his face. "Hunter, you’re like a comic book villain without the charm. All brawn, no brains, and a desperate need for a storyline that doesn’t involve getting your ass handed to you on a weekly basis. Maybe it’s time to hang up those sad, saggy tights and find a new hobby. I hear knitting is quite therapeutic."

Deadpool paused, allowing the crowd’s laughter to peak before delivering his final blow. "So, here’s to Hunter Valentyne, the legend in his own mind, the king of mediocrity. Keep chasing those dreams, Hunter. One day, you might even catch one. Or not. But hey, at least you’ll have your mirror to keep you company."

With a dramatic bow, Deadpool exited the stage, leaving the crowd in stitches and Hunter Valentyne’s ego thoroughly deflated.