I blame Nanbaka for this...nothing much to say but I'm crossposting this with AO3. But I can't promise you to be uncut. If you want the uncut versions of my stories, please swing over to my spare account on Archieve of Our Own, under the name WarriorNun. I know that there are other people out there looking forward for updates on other stories, but I have other things to focus on such as my civil marriage and whatnot. But I think you for bearing with me on this. I know it's frustrating but my creative muse is always at work...with that said, please enjoy
Nanbaka, Spider-Man, and Deadpool are respectively owned by Stan Lee, MARVEL, and Statelight
WARNING(s): May contain strong language, nudity, homoerotic slash, and other themes that might disturb some readers. Discretion is advised
I cannot reveal the exact or general location of the prison since it was classified information.
But what I can tell you are the minimum details that I'm willing to share, so I'll keep this brief.
This is the Raft, probably the largest prison in the world and located somewhere upon the waters of the Pacific Ocean. A manmade island that is practically a fortress with enveloping walls, state of the art security system, and the best selected men and women from around the world. Alcatraz is practically an amusement park compared to it.
No prisoner alive was able to escape.
And no one will ever will…
BRRRRRRRIIIIIIIINNNGG!
"Supervisor Fury! We have a break out! Two escaped prisoners at large!"
MOTHER FUCKER!
"We have a break out! Two escaped convicts from Cell Block 9! Security level Alpha Lockdown initiated! This is not a drill! I repeat! This is not a drill!"
The sound of the alarms rang loudly throughout the air, sirens were blaring out as soon as the lights flashed open, searching for the escaped convicts that even dared to try and escape the confines of the Raft. All the while inside, every man and woman were taking up arms as they secure every door in the building. Coulson shook his head as he scanned the monitors while typing furiously away at the keyboard. He could hear the door opening behind him but he didn't need to turn around to know who it is.
"Status report," Came the gruff sound of his superior, Supervising Officer of Cell Block 9, Nick Fury.
"Just the usual, Sir." Coulson confirmed, not looking away from the monitors. "Just Number 98 chasing after Number 8." Then there was a pause. "Again."
Fury let out a frustrated groan as he glanced at one of the monitors where lo and behold two said prisoners running down one of many corridors of the facility. Well, more like, the younger man of the two was running to get ahead of the heavily scarred man that is chasing after him. As soon as he see the two pass the camera of the very monitor that Fury was staring at, one of them- the scarred man- doubled back and go as far as wink, along with sticking out his tongue and flipping him the bird.
He felt his remaining eye twitch with irritation as he felt the urge to punch something was quickly rising. Fury then took a deep breath and exhaled, calming himself before turning to his Good Eye.
"Are all the security systems online?"
"Up and running, sir, ready when you are." Coulson spoke as he typed down the codes that he had meticulously memorized before hand. "Though to be honest, I doubt those would do anything to them."
"Couldn't help but try…" Fury muttered, staring at another monitor that showcased the younger man kicked off a wall before leaping over an abandoned laundry cart that was forgotten by the laundry staff.
Peter was NOT having a good time.
Granted that he was imprisoned for participating in an underground fighting ring owned by Wilson Fisk - also known as the Kingpin, the most feared crime lord of the New York underworld. All for just getting some easy money in order to make sure that Aunt May was well stocked on her medication and that their house was still standing strong. It was never easy since Uncle Ben died…
Add in the fact that he's seventeen-just a year away to be eighteen and in college- yet the so-called justice system screwed him over and sent him here to the Raft, a prison island that was not only located nowhere on the map but gave his aunt no chance to visit him to see if he was alright.
Aside from the visitation from his lawyer that is.
God bless whatever reason why Matt wanted him as his client…
Though…to be fair. The Raft wasn't as bad when he first got here.
It was high class compared to juvie, no to mention really…really…sparkly.
Like Pretty Princess Pony Palace sparkly. Or a what would happen if Disneyland and Las Vegas merged and have a baby. Aside from the high walls that seemed impossible to scale, it was so bright and colorful, that Peter had to shield his eyes when he looked out of the helicopter window.
The exterior wasn't the only thing that he noticed that was different from the juvenile halls or prison in general.
For one, they have state of the art security system and tech that vaguely reminded him of Stark tech. Although that is only a small detaile compared to everything else. While they have the classic thick concrete walls with cracks that wouldn't do anything to them, along with an occasional spray painted graffiti, Peter noticed that this place was really…nice for a better lack of word.
No, pleasant is more like it.
From the thumb-printing to the mugshots, he was surprised on how civil the prison staff are, one of them even ask if he would like to have something to drink afterwards (he declined, politely mind you…Aunt May raised no fool). But he had to be on his toes in any case one of them decided to "discipline" him for whatever reason or no reason at all. The prison uniforms are kind of comfy, for…you know, prison uniforms. Instead of uncomfortable scratchy sensation, they not only felt comfortable but also felt like something out of a high class clothing design line. There was even an option of wearing casual clothing above all things. He was brought to his cell which was sent in Building Number 9, and it was nothing that he expected at all.
Gone were his expectations of a rickety bunk bed, a possible roommate that would either kill him in his sleep or rape him, or even a disgusting toilet. What he see as soon as he was lead through the cell door was something that can be found in a five-star hotel, complete with a very clean carpeted floor. The twin-size bed was not only the most comfortable looking but looked brand new. It even have a welcoming chocolate on the pillow! A goddamn. Welcoming chocolate. On. The pillow!
But that was not all…there was an actual flat screen tv with high depth cable, a working fridge, and a homey desk with a complimentary laptop. Which also included the wi-fi password, "ExCelsior!" Plus the toilet was actually clean with actual toilet paper roll holder.
His only response as soon as the guard closed the door behind him, after listing off the schedule on his first night, was this:
"…What the fuck."
It didn't stop there…
He found out that the food wasn't what he seemed either.
Gone were his expectations of mysterious slop that was meant to be passed off as food. Instead, they were served food that is enough to make food critics have an actual food orgasm. And it came in a variety of international styles, though Japanese seemed to be common, so it gave him the idea that they're somehow around near Asia. But considering the different ethnicities the prisoners have, it could be anyone's guess where they are.
He took note that it was a co-ed prison, since there were women around. However, he was surprised that despite the environment, everyone seemed…civil. Like being in a regular lunch space instead of being incarcerated for whatever reason that they were landed here. Although, like any other prison…there had to be prison gangs.
And each and everyone of them sounded like something out of a comic book.
He was approached by one of them and offered their protection on his first day here.
Less said about his encounter with them the better.
But all in all, it's…not so bad.
Good meals, surprisingly great heating and air conditioning system, an actual gym, and the largest bath that resembled a Japanese hot spring…this place is ok.
…MOSTLY ok.
Such as this moment.
"Goddammit, GIVE UP ALREADY!" Peter snapped as he leapt over one obstacle to the next.
"NOT UNTIL YOU ACCEPT IT!" Shouted back the very prisoner that he really wanted to be 150 feet away from.
An audible yet frustrated growl escaped from his throat as he sped up down the hall, no doubt that his pursuer was not far behind. Figures that he had some sort of military training before being placed in this slammer out of nowhere, that guy has some serious stamina. Peter would have gone a bit further when he itch at the back of his head was screaming at him to stop, making him skid just in time as soon as a wall suddenly closed in front of him. He clicked his tongue before immediately make a leap to sprint down another opening to the passage. A satisfied smirk grew on his lips as soon as his ears picked up the audible sound of something smacking against the wall and an "owie!"
"Sector 16 locked down is a success!" Coulson reported. Then he paused for a bit as he watched the scarred man peeled himself off of the newly formed wall and rubbed his face for a bit before resuming the chase. "Though, I'm kinda worried for Number 98."
"He's fine." Fury spoke up bluntly, training his eye on their movements. "98 is one tough sonufabitch, it would take more than just a face plant to rearrange his face. Besides, I highly doubt that he's killable at the rate they're going."
"…I've been meaning to ask, sir. But are these traps are meant to help Prisoner 8 in a way? Cause you know, Prisoner 98 has been hounding him since day one?"
The only response he got was a heavy sigh.
—
It would seem that they have really upgraded the traps the last time they had an outing. And needless to say that while they are creative…they have done little to slow down his pursuer.
Prisoner Number 98.
Former Merc with the Mouth.
Also known as Wade Wilson.
And at the moment, constant stalker of Peter Parker.
Honestly, he had hoped that with these upgrades, at least ONE of them hinder him for a good solid moment. But NOOOOOO. No matter what they throw at them, whether it was laser dodging (he had to find some way to get that Mission Impossible theme song out of his head once this is over), puzzle pillars, even an amateur reenactment of Indiana Jones and Raiders of the Lost Arc…Wade somehow managed to conquer them all.
And Peter was getting tired.
"You can't run forever! We are meant for each other!"
He gotta shake him off, and fast. But how is the better question. As he dodged some swinging pendulums, an idea popped into his head.
"…Light bulb~." Peter grinned at this. This is soooo going to work.
He made a quick step before leaping off one wall and through a doorway, made a tumble and leapt back onto his feet with a "nailed it".
Peter made a quick look over his shoulder, satisfied that Wade was still kicking and still on pursuit of him.
Good.
"Surprised that you're still going!" He called back. "Still have the stamina to keep up?"
The way that Wade smiled was akin to a Cheshire Cat-the American McGee's version, to be precise.
"Oh, Baby Boy, just wait till we hit the Honey Moon Suite!" And with that, he actually sped up a bit.
Peter gave him a teasing smirk before gaining a bit of speed as well, fully ignoring the aching pain in his legs as they were practically protesting him to stop.
"Well, better come and get me then!" He taunted.
"Oh, I love it when you talk like that!"
—
"Where the Hell is he leading him?" Fury spoke out loud, narrowing his only eye.
"Hold on a second…" Coulson muttered, typing a bit as he followed the prisoners' movements upon the monitors, switching from one screen to the next. "I think he's….leading him to the gym?" An eyebrow was raised as he looked over to his supervisor. "Why do you think he was doing that?"
"Isn't it obvious, Coulson?" Fury replied before looking up to see Peter ran into the room leading to the gym just in time.
"He's leading 98 into a trap."
—
Peter skidded to a stop as soon as he entered into the gym room.
Even if it was known as a "room", it was as big as a dance studio. There are certain sections from cardio, weights, even slightly cushioned yoga mats for those who want to do some yoga. There are even multi-purpose room classes that include all manner of physical workout, such as zumba, biking, yoga, and whatnot. Even taught by either prison staff that have a teaching permit. There was even a pool section!
He looked around, breathing heavily while feeling the adrenaline rush from the chase and the throbbing of his legs. Peter was satisfied at the fact that the place was empty at this hour, and have no further openings (save for the ventilation opening high up in the ceiling). Good, just the way he wanted. With a deep intake of breath, he exhaled slowly and turned around, just in time to see Wade standing at the entrance.
With a shit-eating grin that was borderline maniac, again, akin to the American McGee's take on the Cheshire Cat. If the said cat was heavily scarred. Despite the fact that he was breathing rather heavily, but other than that, managed to keep his balance. With his fully-scarred body, and the top half off his prison uniform tied around his waist to show off his muscular physique, he alone was enough to give anyone nightmares. But to Peter, he was just a constant pain in his ass.
"Finally!" He spoke with satisfaction before striding over to Peter in a slow yet predatory manner. "Took long enough but at least there is something that would drive you to the corner."
Peter stood his ground and kept his expression blank, willing himself not to punch Wade square in the jaw or kick him in the family jewels when the other prisoner came closer to him. Even when he was in close proximity and snaked his arms around his waist, God he really wanted to headbutt him hard when he gave him that stupid smile.
"Though I have to admit, chasing you around like that was really fun and all. But…sometimes I always find that the reward is sweeter." Then he grinned wider. "That and I really wanna fuck you against the mat right now. And on the walls. And against the equipment."
Peter blinked, keeping his cool before allowing his lips curl into a seductive smirk.
"Oh really? You sure you wanna do it in a place like this?" He made sure to make his voice low and coy. For emphasis, he slinked his leg between Wade's and pushed it a bit upward to rub his knee against the crotch area. His ears were rewarded with a strained groan as he felt Wade tightened his hold around him.
"God, you have no idea how many places where I wanna take you…" He whispered harshly, bringing them a bit closer together until their breaths mingled.
Peter lowered his eyelids as he gazed into Wade's, a bit marveling at the fact that he has striking blue eyes with a bit of brown in them.
"Well…better think some more then…"
CRASH
BZZZZZZZTTT
"Shit! We lost a camera!" Coulson cursed as he typed furiously upon the keyboard to hopefully pull up an image. "Still nothing…we better get a small team." Then he pulled up his radio. "This is Coulson to Deputy Supervisor Hill. What's your twenty?"
There was a slight crackle on the other side before a response was heard. "I'm at sector 9, what is the location of the prisoners?" It was a woman's voice, her tone held a strong and attentive presence even though they're not in the same room.
"Last time we had visual, they were in the gym. There was damage to the cameras inside but we're not able to boot up the backup. Can you get there?"
"I'm on my way, I'll have squad Alpha with me."
Coulson nodded. "Acknowledged." Then he looked up to his supervisor. "What now, Sir?"
Fury readjusted his uniform cap upon his bald head before turning heel and head out the door.
"Keep monitoring," He ordered. "Make sure that you got your eyes everywhere. I'll be out in case the situation gets shittier than it needs to."
"Alright, we're nearing the location," Maria Hill informed her team as soon as they turned the corner. "Remember, only use taser batons as a last resort. Make sure that you're fully stocked with tranquilizer bullets."
"Yes, Ma'am!" The team chorused, each and every one of them made sure that they are locked and loaded before proceeding. They all halted as soon as they saw their leader held her hand up, a military signal for halting. Each member gripped their modified gun hard, there was even one that actually swallowed while sweating cold bullets. These two prisoners won't be like the others, they have heard the stories.
Mostly on Prisoner 98.
They say that he had been transferred from prison to prison, since he had a record of being a ruthless mercenary with an unquenchable bloodlust and knowing how to kill a man painfully more than 1001 different ways. From all around the United States to even around the world, there was no prison standing that could keep him for long. There are even rumors saying that he was practically "death-proof", immortal even. But that's all they were…rumors. Most of them don't want to risk to see if they are true or not. Besides…it was proven that on the first day, it only took about 4 tranquilizer bullets to take him down as opposed to only one.
The moment was like an eternity for them, each and every one of them could feel their heartbeat go on a rapid speed. That is until Maria finally gave them the signal.
"…NOW!"
With their guns locked and loaded, they all follow their leader into the gym, fully prepared to tranquilize the prisoner, even if they have to deal with his antics along with military training. For Number 8, well, from what they can tell, he was more manageable. As soon as they ran into the gym, what they saw was…not they expect.
For better lack of words.
Before them was Prisoner 98…who somehow got himself entangled up in some workout equipment, and the room was in shambles. That and he looked like he needed some medical attention, mostly because of how he looked despite being injured.
If anything, he looked rather happy.
"He's so cute when he's angry…" He managed to croak out.
While the rest were staring at him in a dumbfounded manner, honestly didn't know what to think of it, but Maria just sighed as she pulled out her radio.
"It's Hill. We found Prisoner Number 98." She spoke into a deadpan tone.
"What of Prisoner Number 8?" Came Coulson's voice.
"He's not present at the moment. Probably escaped before we got here. We will be sending Prisoner 98 to the med bay asap."
At least they got one of them…Lord knows where Prisoner Number 8 was now.
Peter let out a sigh of relief as he walked down one corridor of who knows how many hallways this damn building have. That was actually the most exhausting workout that he had to deal with. If you call complex parkour chase through trap-filled hallways and a thorough thrashing in the gym a workout. Everyday was considered eventful despite the fact that they're on parole.
"There has to be a day where he had to give up and find himself another bitch…" He spoke to himself out loud.
"If only that were the case for him."
Peter stopped his tracks and looked up to see standing before him was a familiar tall man of African-American descent, glaring at him with a single eye as the damaged eye bear scars were peeking out from underneath the eyepatch. His standard uniform made him more intimidating even without that trench coat that he tend to see him wearing from time to time. Normally a prisoner would piss their pants and immediately begged for forgiveness every time they made an attempt to escape.
But not Peter…oh, no.
"…Sup."
Fury took a moment to glare at him (though he figured that it was just his default look) before letting out a heavy sigh, scratching his forehead a bit.
"He somehow got into your cell and gave you the chase, huh?" It was more of a rhetorical question than an actual one.
Peter only shrugged.
"Given on how many times you have changed the lock on my cell door, he somehow managed to get in." Then he gave a thoughtful look. "I think he's been getting some lessons from that one guy at Building 15…"
Another sigh was heard as Fury motioned him over.
"Come on, it's time to get back to your cell." It wasn't in a commanding tone, instead it was rather casual but yet left no room for any argument. He had been at this game long enough to know that the said prisoner would most likely comply, regardless of his situation.
Peter smiled as he walked up to the older man's side.
"Sure thing, Nicky. I was on my way there myself."
"And don't call me Nicky."
Yup, just another day at the Raft.