Deadpool narrowed his eyes at the Supreme Court justice who lay, sprawled on the sea-green rug. It looked as though a group of thugs had taken out their frustrations on him with a baseball bat. In truth, there had only been one 'thug' and he'd used a mix of fists and a katana.

Sighing at the now whimpering judge, Deadpool placed the sword back into its sheath and pulled out an M16 from its strap across chest. The mercenary took a few steps back. "This is gonna hurt - a lot. A whole hell-of-a lot."

The judge screamed as the gun went off, filling his pudgy body with a painful onslaught of bullets. Blood poured from the wounds until there was no more to spill and his body was little more then a pile of lead-filled meat in a shredded, black robe. The judge's screams had long since died to nothing, as did his twitching.

Nodding curtly at a job well done, Deadpool placed his gun back in its strap and grabbed a cigar off the messy desk in the rear of the huge 15th floor office. Lighting the cigar, Deadpool inhaled deeply and walked over to look down at the city of Chicago through a large picture window. He would have to check out some of the sights while he was here, and maybe look in to finding a call girl or two.

It was then that the door to the office burst open, and four security guards stormed through it, handguns drawn. In unison they all looked at Deadpool, then at the dead judge and back to Deadpool again.

"You know any good places to eat in this burg?" Deadpool asked casually.

The eldest of the guards pulled back on the trigger and sent a bullet careening through the air which then implanted itself into Deadpool's upper thigh.

"F… Freeze!" The elderly guard stammered.

"Ow," Deadpool tossed the cigar to the floor and leapt onto the desk, as the wound on his leg slowly began to close over. "You geriatric fuck! That's not how to be polite to a tourist!" Pulling two massive guns from a bag on the desk, he opened fire on the guards who made a flimsy attempt at returning shots on the masked mercenary.

"Do better," yelled Deadpool, over the firing rounds of his weapons. However, the guards didn't have much of a chance to 'do better'. It took only about a minuet for all of the guards to die, save for one, who had succeeded in losing both of his legs to Deadpool's onslaught.

All that remained were bloody, unrecognizable stumps.

Jumping off the desk, Deadpool lowered his weapons and strode over to the legless guard, eyes narrowed. "Now," he said, kneeling next to the guard, "where in the name of silicone can a guy get a good steak in this city?"

The guard sputtered in a mix of impending death, blood loss and shock. "You… Un… Under arres…"

Smashing the guard in the left thigh, Deadpool shook his head, "That's not what I asked. Steaaaaaak…" Changing his tone as though he were talking to a two-year-old, the mercenary continued, "I know you're slow, and… er...bleeding to death, but I want steak. Come on now, help a guy out, would ya?"

Screaming in pain from the punch to his severed leg, the guard rolled his head back and began to whimper. "Zin… Zinfandel on… Grand Ave…"

Picking up the guard's handgun, Deadpool shot the legless man through the temple. "Thanks."

Katrina grinned to herself as she smashed open the lock of the small storage shed in the outskirts of Chicago. Quickly shedding the hospital gown that she had been wearing, the blonde walked naked, into the pitch-black shed. Though there was a bitter, autumn chill in the air, the woman's body was pumping with way too many endorphins to notice.

First killing Dr. Brasster, then the escape from the hospital in Racine, stealing the car, robbing the fabric store, and finally, the two hour journey from Racine to Chicago.

Katrina truly felt alive again. She had almost given up any hope of ever again feeling like this since her admittance into the mental hospital nearly three years ago.

But now, she was out, back in Chicago, and more than ready to pick up where she had left off. Granted, Katrina knew that it would be a bit of a rocky road at first, reclaiming her name and title as a top assassin and hired gun. But just one good hit, with her old flair and style, and she would be back on top in no time.

Fishing a dusty candle from one of the many boxes on the shed's cement floor, the blonde grabbed a match from a shelf and swept it across the floor, allowing the tiny room to be bathed in a dim firelight. The illumination showed all of her personal belongings, right where she had left them.

Boxes upon boxes of guns, dynamite, blades and various other weapons were piled according to size and weight. Harnesses, backpacks, trams, night-vision gear, and a sewing machine. A few computerized devices were stacked on the many shelves in the shed along with a pile of old newspapers, two boxes of well-worn books, and a bag of unopened bird seed.

A look of remorse crossed her face as she walked over to the seed and allowed her hand to run over the smooth, plastic package. Eugene. The thought of the majestic, black raven caused a gentle smile to play at Katrina's lips.

The raven had been the main thing she'd loved, and the only thing that seemed to have ever cared about her. She wasn't sure exactly how she'd managed to acquire him, but Eugene had shown up on her balcony one evening, years ago – and stayed.

Never having been allowed a pet, Katrina was elated to have the bird around and took to spoiling him with rare seeds and small, dead rodents she purchased from a local pet supply shop.

Eventually, he'd taken to following her on some jobs, always being nearby. There was no rhyme or reason for it, and everyone Katrina had talked to who claimed to be an animal expert had no idea. Nonetheless, Eugene had become a real friend – the only one she'd had since she was a young teenager.

After she'd been caught and arrested, Katrina had no idea of what had happened to her friend. She assumed that he was still out there out there somewhere, maybe with a little family of his own, and a female or two to take care of him. That thought comforted her a little, as she turned from the birdseed. Eugene deserved to be happy.

Looking around the shed once again, Katrina's eyes fell on a large duffle bag that lay slumped in one of the dusty corners. Upon opening it, she discovered a thong and a bra, which she promptly put on. The blonde also discovered her old well-worn uniform. Black and green full-body tights, thick leather gloves; hip-hugging, black suede boots, and her mask.

Flipping the mask over in her hands, she grinned as she traced the V shaped design on the front of it. Katrina had been known as Vixen, then; she had been since she had started her criminal career at age twenty. The things she had done under that name were crimes most heinous, and to her quite fun. However, that was over now. She had been stupid, and betrayed, aAnd thanks to that, Vixen could never be again. Venomously, she tossed the mask back into the duffle bag and rose to her feet.

"Fucking rat-bastard," she hissed. "Ruin my whole bloody life. Way to take care of your own!"

With a shake of her head, Katrina dismissed the angry feelings that were beginning to rise within her. "I took care of that ass-mite, Danny already," Katrina said quietly. "Besides, it's time for something else, something better."

Opening the shed door, the blonde picked up the bunch of dark colored material that she had stolen from the fabric store before leaving Racine. She then placed the fabric down on the floor and pulled the sewing machine from its place in the corner. Tonight something new would be born. After all, she was twenty-eight years old, and it was time for Vixen to grow up.

Deadpool looked around the sitting room of the lavish mansion, and for the first time in what seemed like forever, he was truly impressed. It wasn't so much the decor that the room's spacious feng shui design delivered, but rather the large black and white pictures of nude woman that adorned the walls. They was almost enough to make the mercenary want to start collecting art - almost. However, upon the thought of being branded a 'faggy art collector', Deadpool decided that he would stick with the centerfolds in D Cup magazine and retain a firm grip on his heterosexuality, among other things.

"Greetings...Deadpool, isn't it?"

Turning around, the mercenary's brown eyes fell on a tall, conservatively dressed blonde woman who looked to be in her late forties. "Uh-huh." Deadpool nodded and winked at the woman, who, in his opinion, was pretty sexy for an old broad.

'Sure there's a little snow on the roof,' he thought to himself as he watched the woman walk across the room and take a seat in a lavish, cream colored armchair. 'But the foundation's still solid.'

Sipping from the porcelain teacup that had been placed beside the chair, the woman took a deep breath in and motioned for the mercenary to have a seat opposite her.

Deadpool winked again – seductively, and sauntered over to the chair, giving a large stretch and displaying his sculpted build before he sat down. "So," he began in his best singles bar voice, "do you come here often?"

Cocking her head to the side, the woman crossed her long legs and attempted to pull down the hem of her knee-length skirt so that it covered more of her legs. "I live here."

"Oh, right." Deadpool leaned forward in his chair and rested his elbows on his knees. "Well in that case… Mrs. Robinson, are you trying to seduce me?"

A look of horror erupted on the woman's delicate-featured face as she looked at Deadpool. "Well, I never!"

"You should, it's an orgasm waiting to happen. Besides, you aren't gonna be the first virgin that I've pillaged." Deadpool smiled at the thought.

The woman looked quite taken aback for a moment, and then a slow smile spread over her face and she placed her teacup onto an end table. "Well, you are perfect for the job, Mr. Pool."

Sitting back in his chair, Deadpool cocked his head to the side. "So I'm told."

Grinning a little, the woman folded her arms across her chest. "You came with a bit of an unsure reputation, I must confess."

That was all the mercenary needed to hear to get upset. Deadpool leapt to his feet, towering over the still-sitting woman. He used the full force of his six-foot, two-inch height and muscled build to convey his anger. "Listen, grandma. My skills are top notch, don't forget that!"

"I meant your mental health, not your skills – as you call them, Mr. Pool," stated the woman, her tone calm despite the mercenary standing over her. Again she picked up her teacup. "As far as skills and expertise go, I have heard you're the best. That is why you arehere and not someone else."

Deadpool nodded and quickly returned to his position in the plush chair, attempting to reclaim any pride his little outburst might have stolen. He stretched his red-clad legs out in front of him. "What's the job? Need me to off a cheating husband? Some Malibu Barbie hot for your main squeeze?"

The woman smiled patiently at Deadpool as she sipped her tea. "I'll come right to the point, Mr. Pool…"

Deadpool cut her off. "Deadpool… no Mister, just Deadpool. Unless of course we decide to have sex. Then you can call me Mack Daddy, or Mister Big, or Holy Hell That's Huge."

Ignoring his words, and getting to her feet, the woman walked over to a large picture window and looked out at the evening sky. "I would like you to locate my daughter for me."

"I think you should know that I'm not really into the whole 'missing children' thing. I'm more into the get the loot, bomb the building, hired gun kinda thing." Deadpool shook his head. "You got the wrong merc, babe. But I can give ya' Bullseye's number, he's a sap, he'd probably go for It."

With a smirk, the woman looked from the view outside to the mercenary in her sitting room. "Deadpool, I have five hundred-thousand dollars waiting for you in a Swiss account."

Jumping to his feet, Deadpool proceeded to dance around the large room, shouting and giggling in utter glee. He even turned a few cartwheels and back flips. After that he calmly returned to his seat, all business. "Well, I'll have to think about your proposal and I'll get back to you."

"Would you care to know exactly what you will be doing, then?" The woman's patients was wearing thin and it showed in her voice.

"Hell, lady," stated Deadpool firmly, "for half-a-mil, I'd go down on Regis Philbin."

"That will not be necessary."

"Good thing."

The woman turned from Deadpool and took a deep breath in. "My daughter is my life, the only thing that keeps me going, my sun and my stars…"

Deadpool looked at the large vase of daisies that sat perkily on the table next to him. He was ecstatic at the prospect of making five million on something as easy as finding some snot-nosed kid.

Grabbing a few daises he began to absentmindedly pull the heads from the flowers as he thought of what he would do with all that money. When he happened to glance up Deadpool quickly tossed the flowers to the ground and smiled sheepishly at the woman as she looked at him with disdain. "Oopsie daisy?"

"Indeed. Listen. You may think that this will be an easy assignment for you, Deadpool, but rest assured that it will have challenges."

Deadpool scoffed, "No offence lady, but how much challenge could a little kid be? What's she gonna do? Spill her ice cream cone on me?"

At this the woman laughed. It was a soft, happy noise that made the room seem brighter. "Is that what you think? Dear boy, my daughter is twenty-eight years old." Reaching into the pocket of her sweater, the woman pulled out a folded up newspaper clipping. With a shake of her head, she handed it to Deadpool.

Unfolding the clipping Deadpool's face clouded over. 'The infamous Katrina Kinkade, alias, Vixen; a mercenary and mass murderer, escaped last night from Shady Oaks Home for the Criminally Insane, in Racine, Illinois. She was being held for ten consecutive life sentences and spent over a year on the FBI's ten most wanted list. Vixen brutally murdered her psychologist, fourteen orderlies and six security guards before killing a man in downtown Racine and stealing his car…

Deadpool looked up from the clipping to the woman. "This is your daughter?"

She nodded, "Yes, Deadpool, that is my daughter. What I want from you is to capture her and bring her back here to me, without harming her. "

Deadpool blinked at the woman, but said nothing.

"Naturally, I will give you all of the information that I have on her."

"Riiiiight. Don't you think it would be better to let the cops handle this one?"

At this a look of deep anger snapped on to the woman's face, causing her fine features to wither into an ugly mask. "The police would sooner see her dead. I want no harm to come to my little girl. She is not evil, just misguided, and she needs her mother."

"I never knew Norman Bates had an aunt," Deadpool mumbled. Looking at the woman cautiously, it only took Deadpool a few seconds to decide that she was insane. Truth be told, the thought of going out there on a manhunt so some crazy woman could get her homicidal daughter back almost made him toss the offer to the ground and go home.

Almost.

Then again, a half million dollars was a half million dollars. "Let's rock and roll, shall we?"