Easy Action

Monsters

Okay so I wanted to send PM as thanks to those who reviewed b/c I was pretty psyched about them but…well, I'm kinda stupid. I have no clue how to respond to reviews personally. So…there.

Casakitten! I am sooo holding you to that vow now.

Cadet Deming, glad you liked Wade. He's hard to do since he's a killer spaz.

sd freek, lol yeah, I laughed a bit while writing the pedophile part.

ChibiLover123, here's the more you asked for. And I'm glad you like it so far.

When Wade had found her, he noticed how plush and decadent everything was in this place. A bed with a sheer canopy, a bowl of fruit; pomegranate, dragon fruit, rambutan and passion fruit along with other ugly specimens that didn't look particularly appetizing. The legs of the chairs were cherry and carved to look like they had paws. Antique, tasteful paintings hung depicting naked women from the nineteenth century. This place; this place that stunk of wealth and pompousness, that held the air of snobbish pleasantry made Wade feel like ripping through it like a hurricane or like the Tasmanian Devil. He rolled his shoulders. Time enough later. He wasn't like Victor completely. He held some amount of self control.

The scientist, the butcheress, the devil's right hand was opening her laptop. She inserted a zip disk and waited. Wade didn't. He slipped into the room like a virus in a body – quietly and unnoticeable. Coming up behind her, he towered over her and saw what was on that zip disk. Numerous names, addresses, classification: homo superior and even categories. Wade's eyes narrowed. Stryker didn't know when to give up did he? Another 'I hate mutants but I'll pretend that I really just want to be chummy until I force you into a drug induced coma and shave your head' campaign was already up and running despite his previous epic failure.

Wade allowed his swords, once metaphorical extensions of his body while in combat now turned into real extensions, to slip through the flesh between his knuckles and stopped them halfway. He winced. They hurt like a mother when he allowed them to slide out. No wonder Wolverine constantly cringed and looked so pissed when he fought with them unsheathed.

The tip of one still warm sword touched her cheek and she froze in her typing. "Who is it? Wolverine?" she asked voice trembling and full of terror.

Wade's mouth twisted into a frown at the woman's guess but then he smiled it off with shrug. All that meant was that they still believed he was dead by Victor's and Logan's hands. All the better to be a great big surprise for the old devil himself. He might even bring a cake for him with frosted words; Way Over the Hill. But the cake would have to probably go to Victor and Logan. They were ancient sons of bitches.

Instead, Wade turned on the charm. "Nope, not even close sweetheart." The woman stiffened and inhaled sharply, as if someone had punched her in the stomach.

"Deadpool," she said, not coldly, not hostilely, but pityingly. The sound made Wade's stomach coil and roil with burning hatred. Bitch you made me into this. I'm Wade. Not fucking Deadpool. Wade kept to the charm like a gentleman.

"Well, I prefer Wade and it's what my friends call me by anyway," he leaned down to speak in her ear. "And you are my friend, right?" his voice had lowered and while it wasn't outright threatening, there was a sharp, crueler edge to it.

She swallowed and looked at her laptop, not daring to move lest he cut her. "Then – Mr. Wilson," she coughed, "Wade, what is it…you've come for?"

Wade hummed questioningly in his throat a bit and rocked on his heels, as if he had no idea what she was talking about. "Well, I wonder, how 'bout you tell me what I came here for?" his tone was sharper, his viciousness leaking through. He was much more charming than the Brothers Hairy, but no less animal or savage.

The woman's throat worked as she attempted to swallow. "After, after you fought Wolverine and Sabertooth, the whole facility came down. They destroyed it. Stryker had managed to get out but he disappeared from the scene before the authorities could discover him." She breathed in and out purposefully but Wade kept the sword tip steady against her cheek, ready to decapitate her. "The last I heard of him, he'd been brought in for questioning. He'd become the suspect that fit the General's murder."

"Then why do you have all these?" Wade waved a hand to the laptop's screen. "Are you setting up an online dating service for mutants?" Wade tsked, "C'mon now. We get enough schtick as it is."

"Despite Colonel Stryker's – absence – my team and I keep documentation of mutants; dangerous, unique and we try to categorize them."

Wade's sword didn't waver. "Why?" he was honestly curious. If she had been trying to categorize them for any purposes such as perhaps to create yet another "perfect" soldier, she wouldn't be so quick to answer him for fear of retribution. This was on a whole new level.

Her throat worked while she attempted to gain some saliva back into her cotton dry mouth. "We are trying to link their genetics, see back into their ancestry. Perhaps, the reason why there is such a wide variety of mutants, and how they leap frog over Homo sapiens is derived from them being descendants of mutants who were less developed than they. If, if that is the case, then," she licked her lips, "We are trying to track how much they can evolve, and at what point it will stop, or consume them." Her eyes flicked to his when he came to stand closer, to view the laptop with mild interest. "We aren't trying to create another…super soldier," Wade glared at her in warning, eyebrows raised. "It's a scientific inquiry." She was honest. A total frigid bitch who that mutants had no place being on the same level of equality as they, but she was honest.

Wade nodded. "You know what comes next," he said it smoothly, quietly, as if to comfort her. She closed her eyes and nodded, body shaking in fear. "Are you sure you don't know where Stryker is?"

She shook her head, "No," she hesitated but spoke again anyway. "If I did and told you, it still wouldn't help, would it?"

Wade grinned at her crookedly, not because he didn't want to do this, because he really, really, really wanted to slice her head off and see her spray, but because it was simply in his nature. "'Fraid not," he stared at her, "Since I can still picture you in a white lab coat." She whimpered and looked as though she was about to cry before the sword came down – it barely paused when it carved through her throat, slashing her bones and muscles and skin.

Blood trickled and her head rolled on the pretty, darkly polished coffee table. Her forehead knocked the edge of the porcelain fruit bowl.

He cocked his head and stared at all the names; names with addresses, blood types, schedules, pictures – the whole nine yards. He yanked the zip disk out and stuffed it in his cargo pants. May come in handy. Wade was thick headed and oblivious but he wasn't stupid. She'd been lying when she said that the incident at Three Mile Island had been the last she'd heard of Stryker. She may not have seen him since or even know where he was, but that was not the last time he'd contacted his best scientist.

Wade cracked his neck and itched to go through the files she had, every inch of the hotel room but he didn't have gloves, and currently, he didn't want to leave any trace that it was him. Let Stryker think it was Logan or Victor. He grinned. The swords slid back in and he tensed. He so wasn't used to this. He ran to the window and looked out, and judged the distance over to the adjacent building that her hotel room viewed. Wade thought about it and shrugged. It wasn't like a fall would kill him anymore.

He jumped, body arching while he fell through the air, wind whipping at his tank and cargo pants. Wade started to grin when he saw how far he'd jumped and then it fell. Apparently he still sucked at judging distance. He fell several meters short of the building. His form flickered out of sight and in less than a moment, he was kneeling behind a dumpster. He blinked and swore sharply. Teleporting left him feeling sick and queasy. Yet another thing Stryker ignored when he ordered him to kill the two brothers. Asshole.

He shrugged the ill feeling off as best as he could before he turned to his head to spot the hat he'd lost while scaling the building, hunting for the scientist. He grinned and sniffed it. It smelled like a bad banana. He thought about it. Bad banana or baldness? Bad, horrible banana smelling merc or unsexy, barely any hair left merc?

Wade shoved the hat over his head and nonchalantly walked out in the open street that continually bustled with movement. He felt pretty good. It had been a good and productive day. He ate, saw pretty jailbait, he killed a woman who made him into the freakier mutant he was now; a total demotion from his mutant coolness from before. Also. He was now a step closer to finding Stryker – once he found a laptop of his own and could rifle through the files on the zip disk. He'd kill him when he found him. Slowly.

Wade cracked his neck but felt a chill run down his spine. He stopped for a moment when sudden black rain clouds blotted out the sunshine and blue sky. That didn't happen too often. Thunder rumbled and lightning flashed. Wade's eyes narrowed. There was a shriek, a crash and gunfire. He spun into an alleyway and peeked out to see what was happening. People parted and ran like the bleating, terrified sheep they were. Wade waited another moment and felt the wind pick up unnaturally quickly. White hair was visible. He raised his brows, intrigued.

There came 'Ro running like the devil was at her heels with a squadron of black clad men following her, armed to the teeth. They had to fight against the wind blowing against them, pushing them back. One of them fired and Ororo crumpled to the ground, crying out like a wounded animal. Wade felt his blood heat. This was his type of scene. She limped to her feet, dragging her leg that bled freely. Another shot rang out and it got her in her shoulder. A tranq dart.

The people around were already freaking out. It wasn't like his presence would cause them to freak out anymore. He shrugged. To hell with it then. Thunder rumbled and lightning cracked, lashing out at the man closest to Ororo; the blast sent him flying back about twenty feet where he connected with a car, dented it and then lay still. Wade whistled. Fast Hands had some bite to her. He rather liked that.

He moved and the swords came out of his knuckles – his hat fell off again but whatever. He'd pick it up when he was done killing people.

Ororo saw him and her eyes widened when he twisted into an aerial spin, swords flashing and catching bullets, allowing them to bounce off and away harmlessly. He changed the angle of one of his swords to force the bullet to ricochet back to the shooter. He choked and fell back, his trigger finger slipped and forced out rounds of bullets to his comrades. Wade cackled when his two of his teammates fell to their sides, twitching.

Wade spun and dodged another bullet. He concentrated but apparently he didn't have laser vision. That sucked, Wade thought while he frowned momentarily, dancing his way into slash range of his current enemy. Must've been because he'd had his head cut off. One sword went into the belly of the man and he twisted viciously, using the other to decapitate the man. He kicked the body of the man hard so that it fell against one of the men who had turned his attention from the less dangerous mutant and sent him crumpling to the concrete street.

He slid into a lower stance before his swords, his babies, did their stuff. Deflecting and reflecting every shot those sub machine guns did. He wasn't grinning anymore but he was having too much of a blast to focus any energy on grinning. One of the men had a brilliant idea and turned his gun on Ororo who was swaying from either blood loss or the tranquilizer. Wade moved and kicked out with a booted foot slamming into his face. He felt the satisfying crunch of cartilage beneath his foot. The man landed heavily and coughed on his blood.

Ororo directed a bolt of lightning down but she missed terribly. It landed two feet from Wade. He yelped loudly and fixed a glare on her, "Hey, watch it miss or I'll let ya bleed out!"

Without turning his attention to the man in front of him who was scrambling for his pistol, he ran his sword through the man's chest and out the other side, before he slashed through bone and muscle and the sword exited through the man's arm. There were two left. The amazing gales of wind were dying down quickly and Wade could hear sirens not too far off in the distance. The black clouds dissipated and the air no longer sizzled with dangerous, high voltage energy.

Wade turned to look and sure enough, she lay on the ground, blood pooling beneath. He rolled his eyes. Even when he hadn't had his fancy healing factor, a little flesh wound never caused him to lose consciousness or a tranq dart – not that he'd ever let either get close enough to him to do any damage. The men were already backing away and to their vehicle that looked like a faster moving tank.

Wade sighed and shrugged. He had to let them go, loathe as he was to do so, but he had a bit of company for entertainment at least. His swords slid back in and he couldn't help but tense. They still hurt like a bitch.

He walked over to where the white haired girl lay and toed her in the side not so gently with a boot. "Hey. Hey, no sleeping in the middle of a sidewalk. People will think you're a stray. Don't want that." She groaned and swatted weakly at his foot, muttering go to hell in Swahili. He rolled his eyes. "Up and at 'em 'Ro, bad people are coming."

"More of them?" she managed to say, gasping while he yanked her to her feet and balanced her at his hip.

"What? No. I meant the cops," he saw that she was still clutching her bag full of wallets. "Let's go find somewhere to crash and get you patched up." Her weight suddenly became more prominent as she passed into unconsciousness. "Tch. Women. Always fainting when the getting's good." He muttered and went to retrieve his hat and shove it over his head. He threw her over his shoulder and grunted. The sirens were coming closer, people screaming, pointing at him and the bodies and the men in black were gone.

It was chaos all around – vehicles were dented, shot up, bolts of lightning had caused the pavement and sidewalk to split and crack. A religious fanatic proclaimed it was God's wrath and His judgment was close at hand. Few others gasped at the thought of an apocalypse. Most stared at the white haired girl over his shoulder and just as suddenly as they'd been frightened and running from the gunfire, they twisted to become angry; pointing at both Wade and Ororo.

"Freaks!"

"Mutants."

"Monsters."

Whatever they called them wasn't important. All he knew was that he needed to leave the scene of the crime quick before there was any evidence that it had been his doing. He started to jog away from the sound of the sirens and his pace picked up once his equilibrium balanced out. He moved fast through the crowds, jumping over still cars and dodging civilians who knew now that there were mutants near.

Standing over one of the bodies of the deceased men, a tall man in a dark cloak watched Wade run before he sniffed the air, drawing it in raggedly. He leered, recognizing the scent. He heard the screech of tires behind him and raised a brow before turning. A police officer, female got out of the passenger seat of the interceptor. "Freeze! Hands where I can see 'em or I shoot!" she snapped. Her partner stepped out as well and he aimed a pistol at him as well.

"You heard her, hands up!" he yelled, angry and trying to be intimidating.

Victor laughed and raised his hands over his shoulders, letting his claws lengthen. Her eyes widened. "Jesus Christ," she whispered, fear surrounding her. Her partner's eyes widened and he ducked into the vehicle. Victor could hear him requesting backup. "You just stay where you are," her voice lost its authorative tone and bordered on pleading.

Victor smiled viciously, showing his fangs. "Now why would I do that?"

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