Chapter Text
There were always a lot of things going on inside of Wade’s head. There's never that one second that nothing is going on in there.
He could be thinking about puppies, about dinosaurs, about movies he's watched, about boys, girls -anyone he's found attractive, about the end of the world, maybe some ways to cheat his healing factor and just die already.
Anything, really.
Sometimes it's an advantage, like, when he doesn't want to think about a certain topic, he could just get distracted easily.
But sometimes, he really hates it. One second he's happy, one second he's going to put a bullet through his brain, it being a result of his overthinking.
But right now. He hates it because he can't focus.
“-I'm done.” Phil rubs his hands on his tired face, and sharply exhales, as he turns back and starts to walk out of the room.
{Wait. What was he saying again? We did something wrong, he's mad.}
[You idiots, he was explaining our first mission for like, the third time now, and you still weren't listening and now he's mad, and he's gonna say some shit we always hear, like why the hell did they even think we were capable of doing something good for once.]
Before the white box could continue more, and somehow end up with the crippling self loathing talk, Wade stood abruptly, almost breaking the chair from the force and ran to the very frustrated and exhausted agent. “Wait! Mr, Phil, sir!”
“It's not Mr. Phil - ah! I don't even care anymore. If you can't even focus on listening to what I'm assigning you to do, then I'm not going to send you out there and mess things up even more-”
Wade dramatically fell to his knees, and whined. “What am I going to tell my mother?! {Our mother's dead} Just one last briefing, I'll focus so hard my brain explodes this time! Pinky swear! And you can keep my pinky if I break my promise!”
[This is not how you convince someone. We look like an idiot. And this definitely looks sad, even for us.]
Wade brushed off the thought. This wasn't that bad, he's had moments where he totally looked sad and desperate. This? This is nothing.
“I am not going to go over this again! I've already elaborated it to you thoroughly for thirty damned minutes. I have things to do.” The agent went silent and stared at the wall for a few seconds before sighing. “Underwood!” He called for the intern who was seated, buried in paperwork. The intern looked up at the call of his name. “Give Wade the information he needs on his first mission. If you have to repeat it to him over and over, even if it would take you for a whole day, do it. We need him on this mission.” The agent demanded sternly, and left with his shoulders still tensed.
{Poor guy, wonder how many crazed ex mercenaries are begging him to give them a job.}
“Wait, oh - oh oh oh oh oh,” Wade gasps, turning his head to stare at the intern who was still seated. “Are you guys just as desperate as I am?”
The intern, Underwood, as the agent had addressed, shrugs. “I guess so, I've heard them talking about this island and arguing a lot.” Underwood shuffled some files around his desk, and glancing up at Wade a few times while speaking and reading files. “The island is called Dyr, and there's a prince named.. uh.. Peter.” He paused to reach up, and push his glasses towards his face. “At first we didn't really care that much, but one of our interns, Randy, went there, and wanted to court the prince - I mean, who wouldn't, if the prince liked you, you could get married and be showered with money, power -- but anyway. After a few days in, our intern killed himself.. there were witnesses and everything, people watched the guy slit his own throat, there were even security tapes and all.”
The lenses of Wade’s mask widen as his eyes did the same under the mask. He sat properly on the floor, and continued to listen, trying all his might to focus.
[Don't think about unicorns. Don't think about the rat under Underwood’s table. Don't think about the suspicious stain on Underwood’s table. Don't think about Underwood’s glasses and how they keep sliding off. Hah, cute. Don't think about Underwood.]
{Fuck, now I'm thinking about Underwood. What's his first name? We don't wanna be yelling his last name, that'd be very awkward. It's like, calling his whole family if we do that.}
“Shut up shut up!” The intern stopped talking and glanced at Wade. “Not you, wait, yes you too, I wasn't listening. Uhm, give me a few seconds, please.” Underwood nodded in understanding, leaning back in his chair.
Clutching his eyes closed, he took deep breaths to calm himself down.
He needs to not fuck this up. He told Daredevil, he told a really lot of people that he could change for the better. That he could stop being a mercenary that just kills people who deserve some unaliving, for a couple of bucks, maybe not a couple, a shit load of bucks.
He told himself, that he wanted change, that he needed change.
When he's not wearing his mask, people are either disgusted by his face, or they pity him. But most of all, people avoid him.
When he is wearing his mask, people - mostly heroes, (as they are the only few of the people who aren't scared of him) treat him like shit. He doesn't blame them, he's obnoxious, loud, childish, a huge stupid idiot, annoying, and certainly a huge waste of air. And as for the other pile of people, once they see him, they're scared and they run away from him. (He does kills some criminals, heroes around New York always get mad at him for that. What, he just got rid of one criminal, and he didn't ask for any money, what more do they want from him? Did they want to be the one to catch the criminal so they could go to the Fury guy, and tell him how they did a good job today? Did they want to be the one to send baddies to jail? Sometimes Wade thinks that, but he knows that they're just mad at him for killing someone. “You don't get to decide who dies!” Wade first heard if from Daredevil. He hears it everyday, it's almost like his daily alarm clock.)
And he did try to stop. He told Daredevil that he wanted to change, and oh what a great guy he was, he let Wade come along to his nightly patrols around the city.
He held himself back so much. He's killed so many people, he feels like he's designed to kill people who deserve it. All his punches, gunshots, and the slices of his katana, are all designed to kill.
Holding himself back wasn't as easy as he thought it would be.
The first few patrols with the devil had him maiming some baddies, aiming his guns at kneecaps, anywhere that wouldn't cause instant death. Daredevil didn't give him a lot of shit for that, the guy knew he was trying very hard.
And just one specific night. Matt - Wade is very good at being a mercenary, knowing someone's identity is no big deal, yet he respected the devil's identity, because he respected the man behind the mask. It was actually the devil himself who told Wade his identity because Matt himself started to trust Wade. Told Wade that he trusted him, and that he was proud at how far Wade has come in the year they have been patrolling the streets of New York.
He praised Wade. He called Wade his friend. He trusted Wade.
When Wade went home that night, he went to sleep happy.
If he could get Matt to trust him, to show the blind lawyer that he could change, maybe.. Just maybe, he could prove to himself and a few more people that he can change, that he isn't all that bad.
If doing good things, and not killing people, rewarded him with a good friend like Matt, being respected by Matt. Then Wade would've done all this a while ago.
Maybe then. He could be a good father for Ellie. Even if he did go back, he still wouldn't be a good father. What kind of father ditches their own kid?
“Deadpool? Do you want me to call you an ambulance?” Underwood was kneeling in front of him, worry written all over his face.
Wade snickers at the mention of ambulance. “Nah, no need kid. You could run a buncha ambulance over me, and I still won't need one!”
The intern laughs and shakes his head. “I was a bit worried, you were just staring at the floor and you were hyperventilating, I thought you were gonna have an anxiety attack.”
“Anxiety attack? Me? Never.” The masked man waved the intern off. “You can continue with giving me the details now. I'm all ears.”
{Don't think about us as one giant ear. Don't think about a bunch of small ears sewn all over our body. Don't think about ears.}
Taking a deep breath, and gulping once, Wade pushed the voices to the back of his head, even if it was impossible, and stood to walk over the intern’s desk. “So what ya got here?” He asked, pointing to Underwood’s pile of files.
“Yes, uhm.” Underwood stalked back to his desk, and sat on his chair. “When Randy died, one of our agents went there, and asked some questions, she wanted to know why Randy killed himself in the middle of the day.” Wade nodded, letting the intern know that he's keeping up. “And erm… our agent also killed herself two days after, she used her own gun.” Underwood swallows, he took deep breaths as he opens a few files to show Wade the agent's files, and the photos of the scene after.
“How are you sure that she killed herself and she wasn't killed by someone from that island?”
“We asked the workers there for security tapes, and..” Underwood then lifted his hand to his mouse, clicking on files from his computer. “We have video evidence… Do you want to see?”
Wade grabbed another chair, and sat on it beside the intern. “Nah, I believe you. Just continue.”
Wade wanted to throw a party to congratulate himself for handling this well.
The other male nods, turning back to the files on his desk. “By now, everyone who knows of this are very suspicious. Like, why would they just kill themselves? Why did they do that? Did they want to do that? Did someone threaten them? Is there something there that makes them want to kill themselves? Is there a mutant there that's causing all of this?” The intern continued listing off his theories, not once did Wade interrupt, he's a good boy today. “We didn't send another agent, even though there are volunteers, we just couldn't risk another death… But then agent Coulson remembered that you asked him for a job before, and now, you're here.”
“Because if anything happens to me, no one would feel bad or would be sad?”
“What? No! No! Definitely not!... well, come to think of it, most people here do hate you, so erm, I'm not really sure if they think that.” Wade snorted, and leaned back in his chair. “Sorry. I didn't mean it like that-”
{Oh my god is he gonna start crying?}
[Stop him before he does. People would think we hurt him or something.]
“I know, please don't start crying. They asked me because I can't stay dead.” Wade tilted his head to the side, stopping himself from saying out loud how he knows that they wanted him on the mission because no one would be worried if anything bad happened to him. Because really, who would?
“Erm, yes, right.” Underwood cleared his throat, and continued. “You'll be using this com to talk to an assigned agent, who will help you with this mission-”
“I thought I was going alone?”
“You are, but we need someone here taking notes… We were going to ask you to put cameras all over the island, but agent Coulson said it would be a violation, and it might get us in trouble if anyone on the island were to find out… So we're using you as our eyes and ears.” The intern finished, handing Wade a small earpiece.
“What, I'll just be walking around the island then? Listening to gossips?” He asks, studying the earpiece, turning it over in his hand to study every detail. Then sliding it onto a random pouch. He'll find it later.
Underwood hummed, being silent for a few seconds, pondering over an answer. “Erm, I guess so. But watch over the suitors and some workers, everyone. I've heard there aren't a lot, but watch their actions, and tell your partner what's happening.”
“Wait, I don't wanna be talking to another agent about this. They're gonna be all annoyed and get mad.” He looks over the intern’s desk, and grabs another earpiece, scrambling over the floor to kneel and hand over the earpiece to Underwood. “Would you do the honors - and probably risk your sanity- and be the man who watches over me, the man behind me, who tells me what to do, and what not to do, the man! Who-”
“Okay, don't continue, I'm good.. Erm, yeah, I guess I will, but I'll have to tell agent Coulson about it tomorrow-”
“Yay!” Wade tackled the man in a hug. Pulling away to grab Underwood’s hand, and tried to slide the earpiece on a laughing intern’s finger. “This isn't working.” He laughs softly, and dropping the earpiece on Underwood’s lap. “Alright,” He sighs, sitting back on his chair. “So, what do I do when I get there?”
“Right,” Underwood pushes his glasses back towards his face, and clears his throat, sliding his chair towards his wooden desk.
He grabs a manila folder from a drawer and opens it out, revealing a picture of a very attractive man in his early twenties. The young man was wearing glasses but Wade was able to see the man's beautiful doe eyes.
{I'm in loooooooooovvee!}
[Shut up, you've only just seen his picture.]
Moving his eyes from the man's face, Wade furrowed his brows as he notices the man who was sitting on the grass with a sketchbook in hand, looked sad, looked so lonely and out of place.
{Ah! Must protect! We must protect him!}
“Who's he? Why're you showing me this? Why is he sad? How did you get this photo?”
“Randy took this photo, before uhm… when he was still okay.” He paused when Wade took the folder from his hands. Wade frowned as he continued to flip over a few more photos, and on every one of them, the boy is sad. “His name is Peter Parker, he's the prince of the island.”
{He's a prince? There goes our chances.}
[Even if he wasn't a prince, we still don't have a chance, have you seen his face? Have you seen ours?]
“Have you done some digging as to why he's sad?” Wade asks, his eyes still studying the five pictures the folder has of the prince.
Underwood shook his head. “Unfortunately, no, I haven't. I couldn't find anything… we don't know anything about this island, and why people are dying, more specifically, killing themselves. And that's why we really are desperate to have you study the place.”
Wade folded a picture of the prince, and slid it to one of his pouches. It was a picture where the prince is sitting over the cliff, and a frown still set on his lips. “You still haven't told me what I'm going to do when I get there, ya know.”
“Oh, sorry… erm, you're going to be a suitor, court the prince.” Wade wanted to interrupt the intern, but he let the man continue. “That way, it won't be suspicious as to why you're around. While you're courting the prince, you can do some digging. Find out what people do, find out what caused the last two deaths-”
“What happens if while I'm courting the prince, the prince falls in love with me?!”
“Erm, that's kind of your problem.”
“Oh no.” The scarred man groans, stomping his feet on the cold tiled floor of the office. “Is this one of those fics where the main character’s friend says ‘don't worry about him. Just, don't. Fall. In. Love.’ because honestly, when someone says that it just makes me cringe and want to kill myself.”
“Uhm? What?”
Wade continued to groan, but every second it was getting louder. “Alright,” He sighs, slamming the folder on the wooden desk, and ran towards a nearby window. “I'm gonna go.”
“Wait! Deadpool! You mean you're starting your mission now? Like, I'm starting it with you now?”
“Ah, I'll call you when I get there, and that's where your mission starts. You don't wanna be listening to what I'm doing while getting there.”
Instead of breaking the window, he pulled it open, because he's polite now. But then he remembered that people here can easily replace that, so he closed the window again, and broke it with a specific gun. Before jumping out of the building, because it's cool, he turned back to the intern, and yelled. “Bye, Underwear!”
He already jumped out of the window before the intern corrects him.
Now, the mission.