"Wait, if I'm naked, then..." he used both of his hands to feel for it on his face, but it was gone. His mask was missing. To Deadpool it wasn't just a tool to cover up his scarred face, it was his face. How would you feel if your face was missing?

He surveyed his surroundings in slight panic for anything he could use to replace his mask- anything would do in a pinch. Unfortunately, the church had long been abandoned and looted. Nothing made of cloth, plastic, or anything else that he could use to cover his face. Desperate for cover, he settles on hiding between two splintering church pews. What would all those other costumed adventurers think of him sitting there in his birthday suit with his arms wrapped around his legs shivering in irrational panic and fear?

To be quite honest, Deadpool didn't give a damn. What he did care about was that somebody saw him without a mask.

"I'll never see that girl again," he told himself, "And even if I do, it won't matter. I don't need a mask, I don't need a mask, I don't need a mask, I do not need a mask, I do not need a mask, I, Deadpool, Wade Wilson, do not need a damn mask!"

He breathed in and he breathed out, and slowly he started to calm down. Deadpool wasn't as bad about letting people see his face as he once was. By that I mean he wouldn't kill you if you accidentally saw it. Very few people can have a comfortable conversation with Deadpool when his face is uncovered, and the majority of them are blind.

"No one's here," Deadpool kept talking to drive away the silence, "I'll just stay here, and Weasel will come get me, where ever I am. It was sort of funny the way she screamed and whacked me on the head," he let out a nervous chuckle, "She wasn't my type anyway!"

"Hey Rude! Did you hear that?"

"It didn't sound like the girl..."

"No shit, but whoever it is might know where she is. Might as well check it out."

Deadpool heard this conversation coming through the big old church doors. If those guys came through, they could spot him easily just by walking by! Thinking quickly, Deadpool rushes to get beside the door, so that when they open it, he'll be hidden behind it and out of sight. Rude, a tall bald guy, kicks the door in, and Reno, some skinny dude with a bad red spiky haircut, saunters in like he knows what he's doing.

"Hellooo? Is anybody home? Coast is clear buddy. Guess we were just hearing things, huh?"

Instead of a reply, Reno heard Rude's body thump to the ground. He drew his pistol from his side and spun around, but found nothing except for Rude lying face down on the ground. A bruise was starting to form on the back of his bald head.

"Who's there?" he exclaimed.

He slowly edged toward his friend and fellow Turk, his finger ready to pull the trigger at a moments notice. When he knelt down to see if Rude was still among the living. As he did, he felt a hard blow impact his own skull, and he joined his friend on the ground. The last thing he heard before he completely lost consciousness was Deadpool's deep, raspy voice say:

"No, no, no, you've got it all wrong! You're supposed to wait untill I say 'Knock, knock'!"

Reno picked a bad day to go to church, didn't he?