Deadpool, bound to a chair with what looked like industrial-strength duct tape (you could practically hear the Home Depot theme playing), wiggles furiously, his muffled voice rising in pitch with every second. His red mask stretches awkwardly where Logan—ever the Picasso—had stuck a neon green Post-it note on his forehead. Written in Sharpie: "Mute Mode: Activated."
Logan, chewing on a cigar like it owed him rent, looms over Wade, his expression a mix of irritation and resignation. He gives Wade's chair a swift kick, earning a muffled yelp.
"Alright, bub," Logan growls, his Australian-Canadian accent blending into a rough baritone that could make gravel jealous. "Enough with the toddler tantrum. We're makin' a plan this time. You know, a real plan—one where we don't all end up as bullet-riddled Swiss cheese, or whatever the hell you were last time."
Deadpool responds with muffled noises, which—let's be honest—sounded suspiciously like "Eat my ass," though the duct tape leaves it open to interpretation.
Logan doesn't even blink. He turns back to the group, his broad shoulders shifting under his jacket like a man who's seen too much and smoked even more. "Alright, team. Let's get this over with before I lose what little patience I got left."
Warren Worthington III, aka Angel, leans against the wall like a Calvin Klein model, his massive white wings spread behind him, catching the dim light of the safe house. He looks like he walked off a Renaissance painting, but the grim set of his jaw says he's ready to paint the Sistine Chapel in someone else's blood.
"Let's try to focus this time," Warren says, his tone exuding the quiet authority of someone who knows he's probably the only adult in the room. "Sofia, what do we have?"
Sofia—flawless, fiery, and looking every bit like she could kill you with her stilettos—leans over the table, her raven hair cascading over her shoulders. She taps the holographic display on her tablet, zooming in on La Casa Roja, her Spanish accent rolling off her tongue like silk.
"La Casa Roja," Sofia begins, her tone dry and laced with a touch of exasperation, "is less of a 'house' and more of a fortress. Three levels above ground, two below. Armed guards patrol the perimeter, motion sensors on the ground floor, and—" she pauses for dramatic effect, her dark eyes narrowing—"an experimental security system in the basement. No specifics, but if Francis is involved, you can bet it's something that will ruin your day."
Logan blows out a cloud of smoke through his nose, his scowl deepening. "Experimental, huh? Great. I hate experimental. It usually means somethin' with teeth—or lasers. Sometimes both."
Alvarez, lounging in his chair like he owns the room, flips his knife with the effortless grace of someone who's used to living on the edge. His grin is pure mischief, and his voice, rich with charm, slides into the conversation. "And let me guess, querida, the basement's where all the fun is, sí?"
Sofia gives him a sharp look, but there's a flicker of amusement in her gaze. "If by 'fun,' you mean getting disintegrated by whatever death trap Francis has cooked up, then yes. A party."
Alvarez chuckles, his grin widening. "Ah, Sofia. You wound me. But don't worry. I'll be your knight in shining armor—again."
"Knight?" Sofia retorts, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "More like the idiot who thinks jumping into a flamethrower is a heroic act."
Alvarez shrugs, clearly unbothered. "What can I say? I have a flair for the dramatic. And it did save your ass."
"You mean it almost got us both killed," Sofia snaps, but there's a slight upward tilt to her lips that says she doesn't entirely hate his antics.
Warren clears his throat, his patience wearing thin. "Can we focus? Please?" He gestures at the map. "We've got thirty minutes until the guards change shifts. That's our window. Logan, you're on ground level. Silent kills only."
Logan snorts. "Silent's not exactly my style, but fine."
Warren continues, "I'll take the roof. Sofia and Alvarez, you're with me on the upper levels. The target—Francis—is holed up in a private suite on the third floor. Two guards outside the door, one inside. We hit fast and clean."
Alvarez raises a hand, smirking. "And Wade?"
Logan glances back at Deadpool, who's now attempting to gnaw through the duct tape with all the grace of a rabid raccoon. "Wade stays put until we're in position. He's backup."
Deadpool freezes, then launches into a muffled tirade, his body jerking like he's auditioning for Riverdance.
Sofia shakes her head. "You really think that'll hold him?"
Logan smirks, the cigar clenched between his teeth. "Long enough. And with any luck, he'll be too late to screw up the plan."
Deadpool suddenly stops struggling, his masked face tilting toward the camera—that's right, the camera. "Can you believe this guy?" he says, breaking the fourth wall like it's a part-time job. "I mean, yeah, sure, he's Wolverine—gruff, sexy, looks like he could bench press a Buick—but backup? C'mon. That's like putting Ryan Reynolds in a rom-com and casting him as the best friend. It's just bad writing!"
"Shut up, Wade," Logan growls, even though technically Deadpool's gagged.
"Anyway," Wade continues, addressing the reader now, "don't worry, folks. I've got a plan. A real plan. One that involves explosions, decapitations, and maybe a musical number. Stay tuned!"
Logan slams the door on his way out, the sound cutting off Deadpool's monologue. Left alone, Wade grins beneath his mask.
"Well, time to break out the old Deus Ex Machina… or, as I call it, sharp teeth and bad decisions."
—
The moon hung low, draping La Casa Roja in a silver glow that gave the sprawling compound an almost serene façade—an illusion shattered by the quiet chaos descending from above. Warren's massive white wings cut through the cool night air, their sheer expanse eclipsing the faint starlight. In one arm, he carried Sofia, who clutched her tablet in one hand while gripping his shoulder with the other, her face a picture of determined concentration mixed with her trademark exasperation.
Dangling from Warren's other arm like a showman mid-act, Alvarez grinned like he was enjoying a sunset cruise instead of an illegal infiltration. His dark eyes sparkled with amusement, even as the wind tousled his perfectly styled hair.
"Not to complain," Alvarez drawled in his smooth, velvety tone, every syllable dripping with exaggerated charm, "but next time, Warren, perhaps you could arrange for a more dignified method of transport? A private jet, perhaps? Or at least a parachute. This dangling piñata routine? Not for me, amigo."
"Shut up, Alvarez," Warren growled, his voice low and clipped. His sharp jawline and focused gaze cut through the banter like one of his metal feathers.
Sofia arched an elegant brow and shifted her grip. "If he drops you," she muttered, her Spanish accent laced with dry humor, "I'll make sure your tombstone reads Here lies the Piñata Hero. He talked too much."
"Ah, querida," Alvarez responded, clutching his chest as if wounded, "you'd miss me too much. Admit it."
"You're a distraction," she shot back flatly.
"Distractions are my specialty, mi amor." He grinned, utterly unfazed.
With a soft thud, Warren landed on the roof, his wings folding behind him like a cloak of silent vengeance. Sofia immediately dropped into a crouch, her sharp eyes scanning the rooftop as she adjusted her scarf to cover the lower half of her face. Alvarez, finally on solid ground, landed with a touch more theatrical flair, brushing imaginary dust off his leather jacket.
The faint scuff of boots drew Sofia's attention. A lone mercenary stood near the rooftop's edge, casually smoking. Before he could turn fully, Sofia raised her silenced pistol and fired. The faint phfft was followed by the muffled thud of his body hitting the ground.
"Nice shot," Alvarez whispered as he unsheathed his knife. He moved like a shadow, slipping toward another guard. The man barely had time to notice the glint of steel before Alvarez's blade slid silently across his throat. The mercenary dropped with a gasp, his hands clawing at the wound. Alvarez knelt, wiped the blade on the man's uniform, and turned back to Sofia with a flourish.
"Efficient and elegant, no?" He stood and gave her a theatrical bow, grinning as he added, "Tell me you're impressed."
Sofia rolled her eyes but couldn't hide the faint tug of a smirk. "I'd be more impressed if you stopped posing."
"Less flair, more speed," Warren interrupted brusquely, already moving toward the remaining two guards.
Alvarez sighed, muttering under his breath, "Philistine."
Meanwhile, Ground Floor
Logan moved through the dimly lit corridors like a wolf stalking its prey, his shoulders hunched and his claws itching to be unleashed. His nostrils flared, catching the faint scents of sweat, gun oil, and cheap cologne.
A guard rounded the corner, his rifle raised—but Logan was already moving. His claws shot out with a metallic snikt, and in one fluid motion, he grabbed the man by the throat, slamming him against the wall. The man's eyes widened in terror as Logan leaned in, his growl low and feral.
"Shh," Logan whispered, a mocking smile tugging at his lips. "It'll be over before you even scream."
The claws slid in cleanly, and the guard slumped forward. Logan eased the body to the floor, his gaze cold and unflinching.
He tapped his comm, his voice gravelly but calm. "Ground floor's clear."
—
"Roof's secure," Warren's measured voice responded.
Sofia checked her tablet, her fingers flying across the screen. "Second floor is next. Stay sharp. We're almost there."
The three moved like a well-oiled machine. Alvarez took point, his knife ready, while Warren's wings unfurled slightly, prepared for anything. Sofia stayed close behind, her pistol raised.
—
Logan was halfway up the stairs when the first explosion rattled the walls. He froze, his brows knitting together as faint music filtered through the air. It was muffled at first, but as it grew louder, his expression shifted to incredulity.
"Oh, no," Warren's voice came through the comm, sharp with disbelief. "Tell me that's not—"
Logan sighed, dragging a hand down his face as the familiar voice of Deadpool cut through the chaos.
"IT'S RAINING MEN! HALLELUJAH!" Wade's voice carried through the compound, accompanied by maniacal laughter, gunfire, and what sounded like an explosion of confetti.
"Goddammit, Wade!" Logan snarled, his claws shooting out again as he sprinted up the stairs.
—
Deadpool came barreling through the main gates, perched atop a makeshift go-kart that looked like it was put together by a toddler with a penchant for explosives. The kart, painted in a garish red with black flames that would make a flamingo blush, was held together by a near-dangerous amount of duct tape. Two rocket launchers, barely hanging on, fired off sporadically, leaving a trail of smoke and a couple of mercenaries in their wake. It was like watching a high-speed demolition derby, except with fewer rules, more swearing, and an unhealthy amount of questionable choices.
"I'm sexy and I know it!" Deadpool belted out, completely out of tune, his voice screeching like nails on a chalkboard. He spun the steering wheel, narrowly avoiding a tree, and for a second, it looked like he might just crash into the side of the building, but nope—Wade was too busy doing the worm in the seat.
Two mercenaries, who'd clearly never been paid enough to witness such a sight, turned in horror as the rockets mounted on the kart launched, turning them into nothing but scorched, panicked memories. Wade gave an enthusiastic thumbs-up as the kart screeched to a halt in front of the entrance, sending gravel flying. The dust hadn't even settled before he leapt over the hood with an acrobatic flair that would've put Cirque du Soleil to shame—if Cirque du Soleil employed people who wore spandex and made really bad decisions.
"Hola, amigos!" he bellowed, striking a pose like he was auditioning for the lead role in Deadpool: The Musical—a role he was sure they'd give him. "Deadpool's here to ruin your day, steal your boss, and maybe… just maybe… take a bubble bath in his panic room! Oh, and I'll definitely be borrowing your WiFi password, because I've been on a bad connection all day, and I can't even load Netflix properly!"
A mercenary, who had clearly been trained for the very worst situations (but not this), took one look at the human hurricane of weirdness in front of him and raised his gun. "Who the hell—"
"Who am I?" Wade interrupted, dramatically pausing in mid-air as if he were a comic book superhero making his debut. He twisted in the air like he was the protagonist in some grand action flick. "Clearly, I'm the main character, you're just the extra who dies in the first five minutes!" With the speed of someone who's watched far too many action movies, Wade plunged one of his katanas through the guy's chest before he could get another word out.
"Sorry, amigo!" Deadpool grinned wide, making a dramatic motion with his other katana as the mercenary's body crumpled to the ground, blood spurting in slow-motion—if only in Wade's mind. "Time is money, and I've got a hot date with chaos. Let's just say... the only thing that's getting killed faster than you is my free trial subscription to this killing spree!"
Wade pulled the katana out of the now-lifeless mercenary with a satisfying shink, then swiped the blood off with a casual flick of his wrist. He glanced at his swords, muttering to himself. "I really need a new dry cleaner. This is gonna stain."
Before the others could react, Deadpool was already skipping toward the entrance with exaggerated jazz hands, humming a tune that was definitely copyrighted, but he didn't care. "Oh, don't worry, folks, I'll be back with a witty quip about how much I love playing with my swords, but first—" He stopped, turned back, and threw a wink toward the body of the poor merc he'd just accidentally murdered. "That guy? I think I'll give him a name: Tim. Yeah, Tim the Mercenary. He died doing what he loved: getting stabbed in the chest."
As he walked past another group of mercenaries, he paused, tilted his head, and looked them up and down. "Really? You're still standing there? What do you think this is? Some sort of gritty revenge movie with budget problems? You know what? Forget it. I'm doing all the work here. You're welcome for the dramatic flair, but now I need to find my real prize."
With that, Wade continued to strut forward, oblivious to the sheer chaos he was leaving in his wake, as if he were walking down a catwalk at a fashion show—except with fewer models and more bullets. "Let's make this quick, okay? I've got a nail appointment, and this mission is starting to run late, which makes me cranky. *Deadpool is NOT the kind of guy who likes to be late to a party—*unless it's a party involving blood and people who really should've known better than to piss me off."
—
"Son of a bitch!" Logan's growl was a low rumble as he barreled down the hallway, his boots pounding against the cold concrete floor of La Casa Roja. The mission had been going so damn well up until Deadpool had decided to make his grand entrance. Now all hell was breaking loose, and Logan wasn't the type to sit back and let things fall apart.
His claws gleamed with a deadly shine, itching for action, ready to carve through anything that got in his way. This wasn't his first rodeo, but Wade Wilson was a whole new breed of chaos.
Sofia's voice crackled through his comms, sharp, disbelieving. "He couldn't just stay in the chair for five damn minutes, could he?"
"No," Logan muttered darkly, teeth grinding as he cut around another corner. "Of course he couldn't."
Warren's voice was just as irritated, but with that calm demeanor of someone who'd seen this all before. "Should've known better. He's a walking disaster." His wings rustled faintly in the background as he surveyed the scene from above, ready to give backup if needed. "This is why we can't have nice things."
Alvarez's laughter echoed through the comms, the bastard enjoying every second of the chaos. "Ah, but what would life be without a little desmadre? This is the kind of madness I live for, amigos!" He slid behind cover, the sharp glint of his knife catching the dim light. "The more explosions, the better. It's like a dance, yes? Explosions, gunfire, and... the poetry of chaos."
Sofia shot him a look that was nothing short of murderous, even through the comms. "This is not the time, Alvarez."
"I disagree, querida," Alvarez purred, a smirk in his voice. "This is precisely the time. Wade is doing the job of ten men. You should at least respect the artistry."
"Respect the artistry?" Sofia hissed, barely keeping her frustration in check. "If that 'art' gets us killed, Alvarez, I'll be carving that knife of yours into you."
"I can think of worse ways to go," Alvarez teased, his eyes darting to the approaching mercenaries. "But for now, let us focus, yes? Or are you going to lecture me more about your darling Deadpool?"
Logan snarled into the comms, his voice a low growl. "Enough chatter. We've got a job to finish. I'm heading up to the third floor. Cover me."
"Copy that," Warren replied, no hint of humor in his voice. "We've got eyes on you, Logan. The roof's clear for now."
"Second floor's clear, too," Sofia added, her tone tight as she shifted into position. "Stay sharp. We can't afford to lose focus now."
"Focus? With Wade on the loose?" Alvarez drawled, his voice like velvet but laced with a hint of menace. "This will be interesting, no?"
Logan's voice cut through the banter like a knife. "Just make sure the damn stairs are clear. I don't have time for distractions." His tone was a low rumble, the promise of violence in his words.
As he reached the staircase, his senses were on high alert, every nerve screaming for action. He could hear the distant sound of gunfire, the screams of mercenaries, the chaos Wade had unleashed. Dammit, Wade, he thought, this is why I hate working with you.
Meanwhile, Warren, Alvarez, and Sofia were crouched behind cover, weapons drawn, ready to jump into action. The sound of explosions echoed from below, shaking the building's walls. Deadpool's go-kart shenanigans were far from subtle, and Logan could only imagine the havoc the man was causing.
Alvarez peeked around the corner, his eyes glinting as he surveyed the chaos. He was in his element, that much was clear. "Ah, explosiones," he mused, a grin spreading across his face. "I swear, there is nothing more beautiful than the sound of an explosión followed by the sweet silence of death."
Sofia rolled her eyes, but she couldn't suppress the smirk tugging at her lips. "You're insane."
"Perhaps, querida," Alvarez replied with a wink, "but I find insanity to be far more interesting than your average, boring life." He slid further into cover, peering out to keep watch. "Besides, we are in the company of the world's greatest lunatic, no?"
Sofia's expression tightened, but it was clear she wasn't letting herself get distracted. "We're not dead yet, but this isn't over. Stay sharp." She scanned their surroundings, her gaze never settling for more than a second. She could feel the tension thick in the air, could practically taste the danger as they prepared to move.
Warren was already moving, his wings barely stirring the air as he positioned himself above them, scanning the floor plans, his sharp eyes picking out anything that might be an obstacle. His voice came over the comms, precise and cool. "Logan's at the second floor. We're about to have company from the east side. Get ready to engage."
Alvarez smirked, rolling his shoulders as he readied his blade. "East side, you say? That's where I shine." He licked his lips theatrically. "Time for the poetry to unfold."
Sofia didn't bother responding; she was already moving, her quick steps taking her toward the next target. Her weapon was steady in her hands as she signaled for the others to follow.
"Logan, how are we looking?" Warren asked, voice tight with anticipation.
"I'm close," Logan replied, his voice low and deadly. He wasn't far from the third floor, where Francis was supposed to be hiding. "I'm taking the stairs now. But when this is over, I swear to God, Wade... I'm going to make you wish you'd stayed in that chair."
Alvarez chuckled darkly at Logan's words. "Ah, yes, the sweet smell of revenge. I think I might join you, amigo. There's a certain satisfaction in... how do you say? Finishing the job?"
Sofia's response was a sharp, biting laugh. "I'll believe it when I see it. For now, focus. The job is far from over."
With that, they pressed forward, ready to face whatever madness awaited them. They knew the plan was falling apart, but the fight was far from lost. In the chaos, they found purpose. And as for Logan, he could feel his rage building with each step. Wade had gone too far this time. Too damn far.
—
Wade, as usual, was a walking disaster in the most glorious way possible. Bullets were whizzing past him in every direction, yet he moved through it all like a well-practiced acrobat. His katanas flashed as he cartwheeled into the main hall, dodging fire and making it look almost... graceful. The chaos around him was music to his ears, but that didn't stop him from delivering his usual brand of commentary.
"You know," Wade called out, springing into a perfect somersault onto a table, "for a so-called 'secret lair,' you guys really suck at secrecy. I mean, come on! Who looks at this big, ominous, evil-red fortress and thinks, 'Oh yeah, nothing shady happening here. This is totally where I'd go for a relaxing weekend getaway!'?"
With a sickening thwack, Wade decapitated one mercenary mid-sentence, his katanas slicing through the air like butter. Another volley of bullets came at him from the left, but he simply flipped out of the way, landing effortlessly on his feet, grinning like a madman. Without missing a beat, he yanked a grenade from his belt and tossed it into a nearby hallway. The explosion followed almost immediately, sending debris flying. He hummed the opening notes of the "Mission Impossible" theme, his voice coming through the chaos in a mock-serious tone. "Dum-dum-dum, dum-dum-dum, dum-dum-dum… Cue the slow-motion explosions!"
Meanwhile, Logan's expression was nothing but grim as he sliced through another guard with his claws, the metallic clang of steel meeting bone filling the air. His annoyance was palpable, even as he moved through the building with the speed and precision of a predator.
"This is why I work alone," Logan muttered, gritting his teeth as he navigated the staircase, taking down another two mercs with ruthless efficiency.
Wade, of course, heard him loud and clear. "I heard that!" came Wade's voice, an odd combination of chipper and sarcastic. "Don't worry, Logan, your bromance rejection only fuels my determination! I'm like a puppy! A really messed-up, sword-wielding puppy!"
Logan's jaw clenched tighter, his annoyance growing by the second. "I'm too old for this crap," he grumbled, continuing his ascent with an ease that spoke of years of training. Every move was instinctual, every strike a practiced dance.
As the explosions rocked the building once more, Logan reached the second floor, just as Sofia, Warren, and Alvarez descended from above with a well-practiced synchronization. Sofia's boots hit the ground first, graceful yet deadly, her eyes scanning the surroundings with precision. Warren's wings flared as he landed lightly, a reassuring presence among the chaos. Alvarez, looking unruffled and perfectly composed, made his entrance with a casual swagger, the glint of his blade reflecting the flickering lights.
Warren straightened, cracking his knuckles before giving Logan a sharp nod. "Let's finish this. We've got a date with Francis—who, knowing him, is probably waiting with more surprises."
Logan's gaze darkened at the mention of Francis. His claws extended again with a sharp snikt, his growl low but intense. "If I see that bastard again, he won't get a chance to surprise anyone."
Sofia checked her gun, making sure it was ready. She gave a small, almost imperceptible nod to Warren, signaling they were ready. The team was primed and ready to take the fight to the next level. They weren't just going after Francis now; they were hunting him down with the full fury of a storm.
Alvarez leaned against the wall nonchalantly, his hand still gripping his knife with practiced ease. "I must admit, this is a fascinating dance, no? We are in the middle of a romance with death, and you, mi amigo, are the star." He winked at Logan, the playful glint in his eyes evident. "Shall we salsa with the devil?"
Sofia shot him a look, but even her fierce expression softened for just a moment. "Don't make me regret not putting you in a headlock for that line," she shot back, her voice tight with both tension and amusement.
Alvarez grinned like a wolf, totally unfazed. "Please, I would let you try." He paused, flicking a glance at the door ahead of them. "But now is not the time, querida. We must move—before the poetry of our mission is lost in the tango of bullets and blood."
"Focus, Alvarez," Sofia warned, though the hint of a smirk tugged at her lips.
Logan rolled his eyes, though his focus never wavered. "Yeah, yeah. Let's just get to Francis and put an end to this. Before I lose what's left of my patience—and my sanity."
With that, they readied their weapons and charged forward, prepared for whatever hell Francis had waiting. They were a unit now, bound together by violence, humor, and a shared goal: to end this nightmare. But as they moved, Wade's voice suddenly boomed in from the comms with his usual reckless enthusiasm.
"Hey! I've got a proposition for you guys! How about we skip the whole 'fighting' part and just have a quick spa day together? You know, bubble baths, some wine—except we'll make it Explosivo with a side of 'blow everything up'! No? You guys are such killjoys!"
Logan's answer was a low, irritated growl. "If you don't stop talking, Wade, I swear I'll carve your tongue out."
Wade's voice came back just as cheerfully as before. "Aww, that's sweet! But I'm pretty sure your claws would have a hard time getting through all this charm!"
"God help me," Logan muttered, but even as he spoke, he couldn't help but crack a tiny grin.
And with that, they moved forward, ready to face whatever madness awaited them. They had a plan, a team, and a whole lot of firepower. And Francis better pray that was enough.
—
The team moved through the hallways like a machine built for destruction, precision their game, and violence their method. Their steps echoed down the narrow corridors, mingling with the cries of mercenaries who never saw them coming. The third floor, however, was different. The walls felt thicker. The tension in the air was suffocating, like they were walking into a trap they couldn't see.
Deadpool, always the chatterbox, was quieter than usual, but his snarky comments never stopped entirely. "Alright, team, we're one floor away from a show-stopping finale. Do you think Francis has a 'welcome back, Wade' cake waiting for us? Or should I expect something more... fiery? I mean, he is, what, a master of pain and misery? The guy practically lives in a cauldron of bad decisions." He dodged a bullet as he said it, still grinning, but his tone lacked its usual exuberance.
Logan, on the other hand, was stone-faced and focused, every sense heightened. His claws glinted in the dim light, his movements methodical as he took down anyone that crossed their path. "Just keep your head in the game, Deadpool. You're getting distracted." He didn't look at Wade, but his voice was a low growl, a warning. He knew what this meant for Wade. No one could ever truly prepare for something like this.
Alvarez walked with quiet confidence, the echo of each step the mark of a seasoned veteran. "We're almost there. Francis doesn't get to leave this place alive. That's not negotiable." His voice had an edge, like a blade ready to fall. But even he, the cool-headed strategist, couldn't hide the weight of what was ahead. The team had been hunting this bastard for too long.
Sofia's posture was tense, her gun always at the ready. She was calm but radiating focus. "This ends here. Let's make it clean."
Then they reached the door.
It wasn't the grand, dramatic entrance Wade had imagined. There were no glowing lights, no slow-motion shots of them bursting through to take down the villain of the hour. No. This was a moment of cold, brutal reality. The door slid open with a soft click.
Inside the room, everything was wrong.
There, chained to a bed, was Vanessa. Vanessa. Wade's heart froze in his chest at the sight. The room was dimly lit, the curtains drawn, but even in the muted light, she stood out—her skin had taken on a light blue tint, her hair a stark, unnatural white. It was clear she had mutated. But worse than that—her eyes were empty. Blank. Empty. She wasn't herself. The vacancy in her expression made Wade's blood run cold. There were chains around her wrists, her ankles, and most disturbingly, the drugged, broken look in her face made him feel like he was suffocating.
Wade's swords fell from his hands, clattering to the ground with an uncharacteristic lack of grace. The sound echoed through the room, but he didn't move. The words, the quips, the humor—it all died in his throat.
Francis (Ajax), and Christine (Angel Dust) were sprawled out on the nearby sofa. The two of them looked far too relaxed, far too comfortable for the nightmare unfolding around them. Francis, a sickening grin plastered on his face, turned his head toward them and chuckled darkly.
"Well, well, well, Wade Wilson," he sneered, his voice dripping with sadistic amusement. "You're just in time to witness what you could never have. I must admit, your girlfriend—she's a lot more fun than you ever were. But you know... I really had to break her, Wade. She didn't want to be part of my little experiment, but I think she's starting to enjoy it. What do you think? Think she'll ever be the same after all this?" His eyes flicked to Vanessa with a malicious gleam, savoring every moment.
Christine, lounging lazily next to him, smiled in that way only she could. "Oh, honey, you should've seen her. We had so much fun, didn't we? Poor Wade never knew how easy it was to break someone like her. And you... you're just too late." Her words were laced with a cocky arrogance that only made the scene worse.
Deadpool's usual banter was gone. Completely. His hands shook as he stood frozen, staring at Vanessa. His voice came out low, almost unrecognizable. "Francis..." His words were strained, like they were being ripped from his throat. "I'm going to make you regret the day you ever crossed me. I don't care if I have to tear you apart piece by piece, I'll make you wish you were never born. You took something from me, and I'm not letting you walk away from this." His eyes never left Vanessa as he spoke, his words barely more than a whisper as he fought to maintain control.
Logan stepped forward, the tension in the room palpable. He was a man of few words, but his body language said everything. His claws extended with a snikt, the sound harsh and cutting. He didn't need to say anything. His stance was all business—he was here for one reason only: to end this. To put an end to the monster that was Ajax.
Alvarez cracked his knuckles, the sound ominous in the stillness of the room. "We've been through too much to let this bastard escape." His eyes locked on Ajax, his tone deadly serious. "You don't get to walk away from this. Not after what you did."
Sofia's fingers flexed around her gun, her face as calm as ever, but there was a certain coldness in her eyes as she addressed Ajax. "This ends now. No more games."
As the team prepared to strike, Wade couldn't tear his eyes from Vanessa. His voice cracked as he looked back at her, his pain unmistakable. "Vanessa... I swear to God, I'm going to make him pay for this. You'll get through this. I'm here now. I'm not leaving you again." He knew it was futile to make promises in a world like this, but he couldn't stop himself from speaking the words.
"Everyone, on three," Logan muttered, already moving. "One... two..."
Alvarez didn't wait for the third count. The attack began, and the room erupted into chaos.
It wasn't about saving face anymore. This was personal. This was payback.
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Hey fellow fanfic enthusiasts!
I hope you're enjoying the fanfiction so far! I'd love to hear your thoughts on it. Whether you loved it, hated it, or have some constructive criticism, your feedback is super important to me. Feel free to drop a comment or send me a message with your thoughts. Can't wait to hear from you!
If you're passionate about fanfiction and love discussing stories, characters, and plot twists, then you're in the right place! I've created a Discord server dedicated to diving deep into the world of fanfiction, especially my own stories. Whether you're a reader, a writer, or just someone who enjoys a good tale, I welcome you to join us for lively discussions, feedback sessions, and maybe even some sneak peeks into upcoming chapters, along with artwork related to the stories. Let's nerd out together over our favorite fandoms and explore the endless possibilities of storytelling!
Click the link below to join the conversation:
https://discord.com/invite/HHHwRsB6wd
Can't wait to see you there!
If you appreciate my work and want to support me, consider buying me a cup of coffee. Your support helps me keep writing and bringing more stories to you. You can do so via PayPal here:
https://www.paypal.me/VikrantUtekar007
Or through my Buy Me a Coffee page:
https://www.buymeacoffee.com/vikired001s
Thank you for your support!