His eyes lit up underneath his red and black mask as he made his way onto Burdock Street; he saw a taco stand in the distance, right below the building his next job was in. A magnificent, golden light seemed to shine down on the stand.

"It's like it was made for us…"

Stay focused, the boring voice in his head told him. We don't want to miss our payday like last time…

Oh come on, the more exciting voice replied, we always got time for a little taco action.

Need I remind you your appetite cheated us out of 2 million dollars last week?

No you're bad judgement—and diarrhea—cheated us out of that money.

How is the diarrhea my fault?

"Will you two shut up?" Deadpool snapped at the two other personalities that rang through his head. "We got time for one taco and that's it… okay, maybe two, or three… maybe four. Four's good," he said as he got behind the one person in line, ignoring the sideways glances of pedestrians passing by.

"Who the hell is he talking to?" one girl whispered to her friend as they shuffled past him; trying not to brush up against the well-armed man in a bodysuit.

He surveyed himself in the glass of the apartment building next to the line.

You're lookin' sexy, sexy.

We look alright.

"Better than alright," he replied as he stepped up to order four supreme tacos. He pulled the bottom of his mask up just enough to reveal his mouth and scarfed the tacos down. Once again, he ignored the strange looks of people passing by.

I wonder if they're gawking at our gastronomic prowess or our skin.

Probably the skin.

"Probably the tacos," he said with his mouth full, still crunching the last one.

You ready to get your murder on?

Of course he is!

"Am I never not ready for a little murder?" he asked them.

Nope!

No, but that was a double negative.

"What's that?"

Nevermind… I'll handle the grammar from now on.

You do that… fuckin' dork.

"Haha," Deadpool chuckled as he entered the lavish lobby of the upscale apartment building. "Security seems tight," he mused as he swiped his key card, passed through the turnstile, and entered the greater part of the lobby. "Good thing the client gave me his key..."

So we're calling them clients now?

The people who hire us? Sure, why not?

Just seems a bit… fancy for someone who wants us to murder their wife.

"Who are we to judge?"

Good point.

Yes, good point.

He stepped into the elevator and told the bellboy floor 50.

Wow, we haven't seen a bellboy in… how long?

Since that porno we watched back in '97.

"Oh man, that was a good porno. I wonder if I can find it again…"

"I-I'm sorry?" the bellboy stuttered.

Deadpool was about to describe it to him until he looked him up and down. "Nah, you're too young for it, kid."

"I'm 19!" he exclaimed in indignation.

"Yeah but this shit was fucked up!" he replied. "I'm only protecting you. Trust me…" he shuddered and grew horny simultaneously.

The boy lapsed back into an icy silence. Deadpool tuned in to the voices in his head.

So what we thinking? Gun? Knife? Katana?

Bare hands?

Bare hands seems a little… brutish.

Yeah but it'd be fun—you know, watch the light slowly leave her eyes.

Even for us that's fucked up.

"Agreed. This isn't choke porn. How about gun?" and he pulled out his 9mm and pointed it around the elevator.

You're scaring the bellboy.

Not as bad as that porno would.

"Haha!" Deadpool laughed, pointing the gun at the boy. "Bang!" he teased and laughed harder when the bellboy jumped and started to sweat. "Click, click! Bang! Gonna get you!" The boy began stammering, afraid for his life but Deadpool waved his hand at him. "Eh, lighten up, kid. I'm not gonna kill you—unless somebody pays me to! Haha!"

The elevator arrived at the floor with a cheerful ding and the boy pinned himself against the elevator wall, his eyes begging Deadpool to exit.

"What? You wanna get rid of me that soon?" Visible beads of sweat had appeared on the bellboy's forehead. "Eh, I was bored anyway…" and he holstered his gun and stepped out of the elevator, leaving the boy pressing the door close button repeatedly to get away from the insane man in the suit.

What was the room number again?

5017.

"5017…5017…" Deadpool repeated as he walked down the swanky hallway. It was lit with dark blue lights, the wall white, the carpet black. "Damn, maybe we should move in here."

Yeah, like we can afford this shit. We don't even have a TV.

The TV isn't the problem; the cable is where they get you. Maybe we can afford it after this job!

Yeah right. We're getting what? 2,000 bucks for this? Fuckin' pathetic.

"Well it's an easy 2,000. Wife's a druggy, she's gonna be asleep."

That's right. We go in, bang her, then kill her.

Bang her?

"Yeah, we never said anything about banging but I like where you're going."

Me too.

Me three.

"Ahhh, here we are: 5017." He took the key out of one of his pouches and made ready to open the door. He put his ear to the door first to test the waters. All seemed quiet on the other side so he turned the key, peaked through the crack, and let himself in. "Damn," he whispered, "this place smells like our place."

Yeah, like shit.

It's not that bad…

Despite the expensive building, the interior of the apartment was trashed; quite literally. Trash lay all over the place like a dog had gotten excited and ripped several trash bags apart. Dingy curtains covered the windows, blocking out the sun. Deadpool shut the door behind and unsheathed his katana quietly.

Okay murder time! Murder time! So we're going with the katana! I like it!

It's satisfactory.

The layout of the apartment was simple. He'd stepped into the living room beside which was an open kitchen. One single hall led from the center of the apartment and revealed four doors, all cracked open. He couldn't help but glance into the sink. "Ew."

Well, this place isn't too hot but maybe the girl is.

It's not a girl we're killing, it's a wife.

So?

Well girls and wives are two very different things. The word "girl" implies young, attractive, and possibly blonde, and probably into sex. The word "wife" implies a woman who is older and less fun with a vagina ruined by babies full-body-fisting it that is way more inclined to withhold sex for whatever reasons.

You've got a point. But wives can still be hot. MILFs. It's a thing.

Well of course, I'm just saying it's statistically less likely for this wife—whom the client, her husband, wants dead—to be hot.

Damn you're a dream crusher of epic proportions.

"Shh!" Deadpool hissed as he heard a loud bump come from down the hallway. "Help me here."

It came from the room farthest down the hall and to the right.

Sounds like just one person's in there.

If there's more than one they're being really fucking quiet.

So probably just one.

But don't rule out more.

He dashed to the threshold of the room and listened for any other sounds. He didn't hear anything and so he peeked around the opening in the door and saw a naked woman lying on the bed.

AND SHE'S HOT! HALLELUIAH! Boner engaged!

"Win!" he said quietly.

Don't you find that curious?

What?

That she's sleeping over the covers and naked.

Isn't that how all hot girls sleep?

That's how we wish all hot girls slept but surely the reality is—

But he'd already swung open the door to get a better look. The wife was not old. She was…

About 27.

…about 27 and had a great body with ample tits and an awesome hour glass figure.

OOOH MAMA!

Shh! She's waking up!

He continued standing there, katana unsheathed, boner growing, and totally turned on. The girl—Wife

—the wife rubbed her face in a cute way and turned on her side to face him. It accentuated her ass and hips like crazy.

"Oh baby!" he yelled out without thinking.

She opened her eyes and saw him. She didn't look at all panicked like he'd expected her to be when she saw a tall, intimidating man armed with a massive boner and a long, silver katana. Instead of screaming, she smiled and bit her lip. He couldn't believe his eyes. She was beckoning him towards her!

Get over there! Move! Move! Move!

He moved closer to the bed.

There's no way she's into us.

Then explain this!

And the wife grabbed him by his belt and pulled him down onto her. She grabbed his crotch and started rubbing it while he motorboated her tits.

Make out with her!

No, don't let her see our face, she'll stop being horny.

Deadpool pulled up his mask just to reveal his mouth and the wife readily kissed him, either not seeing or ignoring the open sores and scabs on his face and neck.

"I want to fuck you!" she moaned while taking a breath.

"Okay!"

Take your cock out!

Good thing we made that fold so we wouldn't have to entirely disrobe.

"Yeah, good thing."

"What?" the woman asked.

"Nothing," Deadpool answered as he slipped his cock into her.

Sweet Jesus!

That feels good but it's not going to last.

"What do you mean?"

And he was answered by a loud bang of a gun. He felt the bullet crash into the back of his head and into his brain. It didn't hurt too badly, he was certainly used to pain, but his body went limp while his mind remained conscious. He felt the woman slide out from under him and he rested on the bed face down, seemingly dead.

Goddamnit. It was a trick.

What did I tell you?

'Fuck,' he thought, knowing he'd have to lay there for a few minutes before his body pushed out the bullet. 'Fucking bitch. Now I'm definitely going to kill you.'

We were always going to kill her.

'Yeah but for a few moments there I changed my mind.'

No you didn't.

'Okay fine, I didn't, but we could have fucked first and now that's ruined.'

So the 8 month hiatus from sex continues.

No that counts as sex!

There is no way in hell 3 seconds counts as sex.

'I'm going to have to agree.'

He could hear the woman talking to someone.

"It took you long enough! His fucking cock went in me!"

A man's voice answered, laughing. "I wanted to see if you'd really go through with it. And we had to wait until he was fully distracted. What's wrong with his face? Herpes?"

Deadpool could feel a finger poke his face.

"Don't touch it!" The woman exclaimed. "Get over here and fuck me."

'Gross…' he could feel the bed next to him compress with the weight of the man's body joining with the woman's.

They're going to fuck right next to our 'dead' body?

Kinky!

'Wow, this sucks,' he thought as his own body started bouncing up and down from the humping taking place next to him. He tried to ignore their moaning.

I'm trying not to get a boner right now.

It better be a boner for killing. This bitch is going down.

'Goddamn I hate waiting!' he screamed inside his head. 'Fucking regenerate already!' He could feel the bullet moving backwards to exit the way it had come.

That tickles!

After a few moments he was able to shrug his shoulders. 'Where's my katana?"

Over there.

Where?

Where you dropped it to have 'sex.'

He still couldn't move his body but he managed to twist his head and his eyes lit on the katana lying next to the bed. He wiggled his fingers and then his feet. The lovers beside him didn't notice, too wrapped up in the sex. "And I'm back!" And in one smooth motion he jumped off the bed, grasped the katana, and sliced off the man's head. The head flew into the air and spun, wildly spraying blood, and landed on the ground next to the bed. The headless body fell forward onto the wife, painting her in deep red.

"Oh man, he had a lot of blood!" Deadpool marveled, wiping some blood of his shoulder but leaving it on the katana, liking the way it looked.

The woman surprisingly didn't scream but sat there in a shocked silence, sliding the headless body off of her. She wiped the blood out of her eyes. "You cock blocked me."

"You cock blocked me, babe! And now you're gonna pay!" He raised his katana.

"Wait! We can fuck!"

"Hell no, not after another guys cock has been in you."

Kill her!

Do it to it!

"Wait!" she exclaimed. "I'll pay you double what Dave is paying you."

"Who's Dave?"

The client.

"My husband!"

"Oh, right." He mused for a few moments. "Okay, 4,000 bucks sounds good."

She breathed a sigh of relief and walked over to the chest of drawers and pulled out a small safe. He watched her type in the code.

04…26…19 is the combination.

We all saw, Sherlock.

She counted out 4,000 and handed it to him. "Okay, so we're good? You won't kill me now?"

"We never said that."

"What! That's why I'm paying you."

"You just handed me money, sweetheart. I may have spared you if the sex was good, but instead you had your goon shoot me in the back of the head."

Maybe we would have spared her.

Probably not though.

Yeah, probably not.

"Sorry! Not sorry!" and he rammed the katana through her chest before she had more time to argue. There was a disturbing crunching sound of the katana piercing through her sternum, but she died a quick death. "Better than I'll ever get," he said, drawing the sword out of her and sheathing it behind his back.

So this job was profitable! Went from 2,000 to 6,000.

"No wait, 10,000!" he said as he opened the safe and pulled out 4000 more dollars.

That's right. We win.

Deadpool smiled underneath his mask as he exited the gross apartment.

How bout we get some tacos to celebrate?

That's the best idea you've had all day.