Chapter Text
He groaned, pulling the sticky mask with a squelch halfway over his face.
“That’s the last of them…Maximum effort.” As he tossed the blood soaked mask, though you couldn’t tell from its atrocious red color, it landed with a toe-clenching squishing sound. Chunks of flesh stuck out from it in random places and folds.
He rolled his arms, as they clicked back into place with an unnatural crunching noise. He tilted his head to crack his neck, when he suddenly paused to cock his ear.
In one fluid motion, he unexpectedly withdrew his pistol and shot directly in the skull of the injured mercenary who was trying to crawl away, down the barely lit alleyway.
He mockingly tutted at the dead body. “Nuh-uh! Who said you could leave?”
After the resounding crack of the gun, another sound started. He stilled again. The sound of yet another person whimpering.
He groaned and stomped his foot, imitating a toddler, letting out a strangled grunt. “Urgh! Why can’t you stupid mercs just die already!” He turned around, pressing a finger to his lips and smirking. “Oops. Foreshadowing!”
(What the fuck are you on about?)
[Foreshadowing what?]
“Shhh,” he said aloud. “If I know what’s going to happen, it won’t be devastating when it does!”
His ears twitched, as he pulled his mask over his head. The whimpering was short lasted. It had long since stopped. But with the chronic pain causing adrenaline to constantly run through his veins, his senses were heightened. They alerted him of even the faintest breathing.
He swiftly ducked behind a trash can, white eyes squinting at the sight before him.
He was expecting a lean, tatted, and trembling merc, maybe with even a gun. He’d take the bullets fired for the kick of it. So that’s why he was only faintly surprised to see a young girl, sitting relaxed behind a garbage bin and squeezing her side.
He held up a piece of notebook paper, a drawing done crudely in crayons, which looked like the creation of a 5-year-old. Deadpool, riding a unicorn farting rainbows, carrying a machine gun and going to town on a stereotypical cartoon gangster. Plus a symbol of the mercenary guild he was going after.
“Are you a bad guy?” He giggled, pointing to the symbol and shoving the drawing in her face. Then he pulled out a shotgun (Where did he even get it?) and pressed it to her forehead. “Or just some unlucky passerby who just so happened to end up in an alleyway full of dead bodies!” His mask crinkled at the eyes and mouth, weirdly expressive considering it was made of thick spandex. He laughed out loud again, throwing his head back. Of course she was another merc, or at least associated with them.
She didn’t even flinch. She just stared, hard at him. She wasn’t whimpering anymore, and he noticed blood seeping through where her hand clenched at her side.
(Wait, don’t shoot yet. This is interesting. She’s not scared.)
[She doesn’t care.]
“Hm? You’re not scared? Or you’ve already bled out. Either way. You just saw me massacre a whole gang, in an artfully grotesque manner, and you won’t release a single scream of terror. Or beg for mercy.” Rather than asking a question, his tone was punctual, as if he were making a statement.
“Are you gonna pull the trigger or keep talking to yourself?” She muttered, pushing the barrel of the gun away, and beginning to get to her knees.
The second she began moving, Deadpool flinched, finger moving to squeeze the trigger, but it clicked hollowly.
(Dude.)
[Idiot, you forgot to reload.]
“Well… I can always switch… to my baby knife!” He reached for his shin, unsheathing the puny dagger and was bringing it down on the girl’s back when she caught his arm.
“Please. Ignore the voices in your head for just two seconds and leave me alone.” She shoved him back, taking a few steps forward as she stumbled, leaning against the brick wall of the alley.
His eyes widened. He gasped. “O. Em. Gee.” He said it like a flirty teenage girl. “Are we gonna have a moment where you know about my deepest darkest secrets like the voices in my head and so I bond with you while trying to figure out how you know?” He pulled out his katanas. “Anyways, author, I don’t care! I’ll kill you anyway. And make it quick, Vanessa is waiting for me at home.”
(Ugh, boring. I am not playing into these tropes again.)
[She’s getting away.]
He was snapped up from his thoughts, catching her struggling to pull herself around the corner of the street. He ran up, waving his katanas in the air.
“Hey, wait for me!”
“If you’re gonna stick around me I might as well crash at your place.”
He paused. “Wait, I’m supposed to be killing you. Ooh, forbidden romance plot! Too bad I’m reserved for my sweet, darling Vanessa.”
She flipped around, glaring at him angrily. “I’m like, seventeen or something you PEDO.”
Under the streetlight, he could see her better. Deadpool is not one to take in irrelevant details like appearances, so we’ll switch to an omniscient perspective to describe our main character’s looks.
She wore a faded brown leather jacket, over a graphic tee depicting some sort of niche band. She was definitely over-accessorized, layering multiple studded belts, silver necklaces, and bracelets on herself. Her jeans were ripped, exposing dirtied and red knees. A strand of her hair was dyed, electric blue raccoon stripes sticking out like a sore thumb. Dark circles rounded her eyes, and what was probably dried blood flecked across her cheeks. Very punk rock.
Right now, she leaned against the lamppost, hand clenched around her side, where blood was beginning to soak through her clothing. She knew she wouldn’t die though. Otherwise she would be in another universe by now.
“Holy shit,” he laughed. “You look like you stepped fresh out of Scott Pilgrim, silly little punk teenager. Negasonic Teenage Warhead would absolutely LOVE you!”
“What kind of fuck-ass name is that?”
He laughed even harder, wiping a fake tear from his eye. But really, he felt hollow, not even a strand of curiosity blooming within him. The short rush he felt when she dismissed his threats without even a single scream or whimper had long dissipated.
(Ugh. She’s boring.)
[Just kill her already.]
She rolled her eyes. “Can you leave me alone already? Didn’t you say you have to get home to Vanessa?”
(Oh shit, she’s right. Today’s our anniversary.)
[If you’re late, you’re a moron.]
“Fuck! I don’t have a gift yet. And I need to finish the bounty.” He glanced her up and down. Wait. Vanessa liked rock music, right? Maybe… I could get her a little pet. Underneath the rusty lamppost, Deadpool teetered a bit, bending forward onto his toes. He leaned his head into the girl’s shoulder, pretending to hug her. She froze entirely, unblinking. Finally, some sign of fear.
Then he wrapped her arms around her waist and lifted her up onto his shoulder. She didn’t even retaliate, but her tense body relaxed. “Come on, you’re my present,” he hummed. She just sighed, jostling a bit to put her earphones in her ears.
“You have a first-aid kit at your place, right?”