*REVISED ON 4/5/2016*

Disclaimer: obviously I don't own Deadpool characters, just my OC Alex and her family. Spoilers for Deadpool Movie later on. Rated M because Deadpool.

...

"Father, please! I couldn't save you even if I—" blood splattered everywhere from William Wiley's mangled skull, which now found itself wedged between a brick wall and a pale fist. Two glossy green eyes widened as the mouth silenced, William's clenched fingers dropped limply from the girl's blue sweater and the knife fell away from her scarcely nicked neck. The fist tossed the body aside, it fell back on to the pavement with the beer and blood that ran down the drain, out of the way.

"That wasn't a part of the plan," Ajax said aloud. He kept his eyes trained on the brunette as she raised her eyes up to him in a mild state of shock. He'd heard her before he realized she also held the attention of his intended target and tracked them down to here. She'd been singing her favorite song that she always use to sing as she danced down the street with a group of people whom he inferred to be her friends; he would have recognized it anywhere. A raccoon scuddled out from under a moldy cardboard box by her boot and drew him back to the moment. He'd been waiting three years for this. "Alexandria. You're supposed to be in Europe."

Alex shrugged. "I'm not." She eyed him suspiciously. She knew it was him. She would never be able to forget his accent or crystalline eyes, or even his face without being marred with cuts and pints of dried blood. But his voice that was once warm, brave, and loving had grown cold and commanding. His iridescent eyes now hollow, shallow ponds that once were oceans. The program really does change people, she thought.

Ajax laughed, "you're not, are you?" Ajax began looking around the alley, considering his options since having just killed who was supposed to be his special recruit.

She shook her head. "Where's your collar, Frances?"

A rough hand darted out and grabbed her chin, his focus instantly placed back onto her. "Frances died years ago. It's Ajax now, love."

Alex felt the coolness of the wall against her back as the force knocked her back a step, but she remained unshaken by the strangeness of the familiar stranger before her. "You mean Ajax is what's left of Frances," she said she delicately ran her fingers over his own, loosening his grip, then guiding them away from her face. He dropped his hand to his side. "It's barely even his body now, is it?"

He stared into her green eyes, the feeling of escaping through their forests lurking in the back of his brain. Mentally he shook the ghosts away. "And whose fault would that be?" She stared at him, Well that shut her up, he smirked. He wondered if she could tell that now he felt nothing. "Still like waffles, Alex?"

….

She poked her waffle with a silver fork, cautiously as if it might bite her. Ajax found this girl very amusing already. "Problem?" he asked.

"I didn't know people actually liked the waffles at Waffle House," Alex said, voice laden with judgements. She looked around the empty diner and took in the overwhelmingly yellow booth upholstery—much of which was stained with skeptical brown and dirty red splotches.

"It's part of my mutation, Alexandria. Part of having no nerve endings means I can't taste or smell, either."

"How many mutations are there, exactly?" she asked curiously.

"Didn't your father or grandfather tell you anything about your legacy?" Ajax rebutted with narrowed eyes.

"No, not really. Back then I wasn't keen on asking questions. I just wanted to help people."

"107 that I know of," he replied. "Suppose you and your father weren't particularly close considering he nearly killed you for being unable to cure his cancer…I came for your Dad, tonight. I was going to activate his mutation to settle a debt that he owes. He tried to trick us into thinking the same assassin that killed your grandfather offed him too, but we knew he wasn't the valuable target," Ajax explained. "Never liked him though. Not the brightest Wiley of your bunch. Not close at all."

"You never liked anyone but me," Alex challenged.

"No one liked anyone but you."

"Exactly." Ajax raised an eyebrow at her prompting her to elaborate on the issue that she took with his statement but she waved her hand dismissively.

He let it go, finding her past now rather disinteresting after all. "I do wonder though, how come you haven't joined any government services since your apparent freedom? They take care of white lighters well, you're quite the asset darling."

Alex looked ponderous for a moment as she took another bite. Ajax lifted his chin from his newly healed knuckles and straightened in his seat. Silently he studied the details of her face. Her flushed cheeks and light olive skin pleased him still, in combination with her long chocolate hair and long-lashed round green eyes. "You still don't know a damn thing, do you? It's like you still think they're going to make you a super-soldier instead of a slave, even without steel around your neck."

Cooley Ajax stood, pulled his wallet out from his back pocket and threw a twenty dollar bill on the table. He looked at her one more time. "Here," he said as he handed her a black card. Their fingers brushed and Ajax internally braced himself but felt nothing but the usual emptiness. She looked at him peculiarly. Secretly relieved, he stood from the table leaving his waffles uneaten. "If you ever want to come by the workshop, which I now operate for the record," Alex rolled her eyes mentally wondering if she was supposed to be impressed by that, "…or if you just want to talk, ask for Ajax. I'll be there. Unlike your family, I'm willing to wager that once and for all we can actually fix your control issues."

She scrunched up her nose as if receiving the invitation back to hell was smelling rotten meat. After everything, what would following Frances back into the underworld do to me now? she pondered as she watched his black leather back walk out the door.

….

"William Wiley won't be joining us anymore," Ajax said into the speaker of his iPhone. He walked down a dark Brooklyn street towards his motorcycle.

"Hey honey," a red dressed hooker cooed, reaching for his bicep. He slapped her hand away hard without sparing her so much as a glance. Not the night for that.

"There's been a change of plans, I've recovered something much more useful to the organization… Just wait. I'm telling you, she's special… She'll come around. She feels too much."