Hiding again…this is so unproductive. I should be out there looking for her!

He had scolded himself several times already. He never should have let her go to the church by herself to pray. He could have gone with her, or they could have prayed right there in the safety and seclusion of her house.

Maybe if you'd start taking charge and being a man about the things you know are right, neither one of you would be in the situation you're in.

He had broken into an old Baptist school and was washing himself off in the locker room shower. He would have to put on the same clothes in a few minutes, which he was reluctant to do, considering the summer heat. The school maintained having running water and electricity but didn't see the need in turning the air conditioner on. He didn't blame them, but still resented them for the fact. He found some clean towels and dried off. He looked himself over in the mirror. Sure enough, he had a new set of stretch marks across his shoulders, along his back and on the backs of his thighs. The daily treatment of cocoa butter kept them from being too horrendous. They were still new, red and quite visible. He didn't know if he'd have the option of taking it easy for a while, to let the muscles go down.

His stomach grumbled loudly, begging to be fed food. He didn't know if he wanted to risk going outside, but he had to eat. Although, forcing himself not to eat anything would result in his body using his muscles for fuel. The swelling would go down and the stretch marks would be less apparent. It would take a while and he'd have to starve in the meantime. He needed to eat, he decided, dismissing the previous idea.

First things first, Nate. Call Lindsey.

He pulled on his boxer-briefs and took a stroll around the gym looking for a phone. He could not find one and he was not surprised. How many high school gyms had telephones hanging around? He'd have to search elsewhere in the school, hoping that they maintained a phone service. He figured that they would. It was late enough in the summer for them to start taking enrollment. There was probably even someone on staff to sit in an office and take calls all day. He was glad that it was well past hours, so as not to be discovered.

As he went through the school, looking for a phone, he discovered the kitchen. The temptation was too much to pass up. He opened the fridge and found everything he needed to make a sandwich, sans the bread. He looked around long enough to discover some and suddenly he was a sandwich-making machine. He ate until there was no more bread in the loaf. He might've overdone it, but his stomach was plenty satisfied. He felt the after-meal fatigue setting in before long. He found a phone and picked it up to discover that there was no service to it.

Wonderful.

His thoughts fell onto an old friend of his: Caleb O'Fallon. He always used to say, "wonderful" in a sarcastic way whenever something didn't go his way. He hadn't seen Caleb in almost a year now. He disappeared right before the earthquake happened and was never seen alive by anyone afterwards.

When his parents finally accepted that he was dead, Nathan had attended the funeral to pay his respects. Caleb would never know how many people loved and missed him, long after he'd run away. The search and rescue teams throughout the Midwest had never discovered his body. In bleak, dark times such as the days they were living in, it was futile to hold out hope of someone's survival—especially that of a mutant.

Caleb was one of Nathan's closest and most loyal friends. They'd been leaders in their youth group together. Though he was three years older than Caleb, he had always found himself hanging around him. He, as goofy as he was, was very mature for his age—wise beyond his years. He mourned his death as he had so many of his friends.

His mutant friends were being taking away by the MCA almost daily now. He decided that he wouldn't sit on his hands until the MCA came for him, but would take the action to defend his freedom. Now, for all he knew, his beloved was in the hands of the very last people he would have her with. He brought his thoughts back to her.

There was no use in leaving the safe haven of the school, where there was a shower, shelter and food. He went into the nurse's office and lay down on the bed that was there. It wasn't a cot, as he'd had going to school, but a twin size bed with two pillows and thick cover. He wouldn't need the cover in the heat. He turned on the fan in the room, set it on oscillate, blowing a cool breeze through the air.

He lay down, atop the sheets, worried he would never be able to get to sleep thinking about Lindsey. Within seconds, he was in a deep sleep, dreaming about Lindsey. It was a nightmare; she was calling out for help to him from somewhere. He couldn't see her but he could hear her in the distance, slowing fading away from him. There was nothing that he could do to help her.

He woke up to the sound of glass breaking followed closely by an explosion and a bright flash. He was lucky enough to have had his eyes closed when the bomb went off, so that he was not blinded. He jumped out of bed, his head whirling, trying to gather his equilibrium and failing miserably. Soon breathing became hard as choking white gas filled the room. He had no choice but to run full force away from the office. He squinted, his eyes now filled with gummy tears from the gas and barreled through the school. He ran for the library across the hall and hid behind some shelves. He heard the sound of boots scurrying across the floor. He couldn't tell an exact number he could tell that there were a bunch of them and they were coming from more than one direction.

"Proceed with caution men; this one's extremely dangerous," he heard a voice giving commands from the center of the room. He had to know that Nathan could hear him. Through the books, he could see that men were coming on either side of the shelf that he was on. He ran to the right as hard as he could, knowing he'd have to choose a side sooner or later. He caught the agent's rifle and ripped it from his grip. He kicked him, sending him flying down the row of shelves, across the room and into a wall.

He was not familiar with using a gun, but he figured he couldn't go wrong with 'point and shoot.' He aimed down the row from which he was hiding, took aim at the man standing at the other end of it and opened fire. The automatic weapon sent bullets streaming into the man's body and he fell to the floor. Nathan ducked behind the next set of shelves, trying to control his breathing so that he didn't give his location away.

He heard more boots scurrying his way so he turned and opened fire. He could feel bullets smash into his chest and arms but he was able to shoot three more agents before his gun ran empty.

"Fan out!" he heard one of the men command.

Bad idea buddy, Nathan thought slyly. As he listened to the men obey, he shoved the shelf nearest to him with all of his might, surprised, despite their mass, that they were not bolted to the floor. The domino effect locked a few of the agents under the weight of books and shelves but left him open to a straight on attack from those who had heeled to their leader. He hit the ground and army crawled as bullets zoomed past his over his head. He saw that an agent had dropped one of his utility belts to the floor. There were three grenades attached to the belt. Nathan felt guilty as the smile crossed his face. He snatched up the belt and unhooked two grenades. Putting two of the grenades to his mouth, the pins in his teeth, he yanked them free from the grenades and lobbed them at his attackers.

A few bullets managed to hit him as he surfaced but it was nothing compared to the catastrophe coming their way.

"GRENADE!" one of them screamed in warning, but it was too late.

The sound was nothing like the movies. Even surround sound technology couldn't match the massive boom that rattled through the library, shattering windows and blowing men to pieces. Nathan stood up, hoping that he'd eliminated all of them, but to no avail. A few of them had dove out of the way. Their leader, who Nathan could distinguish from his different attire, was missing his legs.

Strike the shepherd and the sheep shall scatter.

Strangely, the leader's legs began to reshape and reform. His wounds from the shrapnel began to heal as well at a rate Nathan had never seen before. He was dressed in crimson red ninja garb, his face masked. He was armed to the teeth. From where Nathan was standing he could see twin swords, twin pistols, a shotgun and other knives tucked in his belts and boots. Now, his new legs were bare from where the old ones with the pant legs had been blown off.

Nathan's better judgment told him to run but he was too fascinated by this man's ability to heal. No ordinary man would be able to perform such a feat.

"I'm always telling them," the man spoke, "never send a man to do a mutant's job!" He sprang forward with unbelievable prowess and poise. Nathan put up his fists to block the attack from the man. He was caught completely off guard. The man unsheathed one of his swords and Nathan felt a slice across his left arm. He winced and stumbled backwards into a shelf. He was sure the limb had come off but when he looked he saw that it was littler more than a bad paper cut.

"Impressive," the man spoke again, in a voice that oozed of darkness. "This sword's edge is an atom thick. It can move through flesh like air. You must have quite a power inside of you."

"Who are you?"

"The name's Jack…but you can call me…Deadpool," he hissed with a sneer. Even the name sounded dark and ominous.

"You're a mutant?" Nathan demanded in disbelief, eying his attacker.

"For all practical purposes, but we're not here to talk about me," he said slashing out at Nathan. He was ready this time, strafing away from the attack.

"So let's get on with it!" Nathan yelled, springing towards the attacker. He gave him a blow to the chin he was sure he wouldn't forget. The attacker flew backwards, flipped and landed on his feet. He upholstered a handgun and opened fire on Nathan. He guarded his face against the bullets. Before long, the clip ran empty and the attacker was left open for another blow from Nathan's mighty fists.

The attacker blocked, but Nathan felt bones give way under his blow. As his attacker backed away Nathan heard bones still popping. He was healing himself again, no doubt.

"Defensive against bullets as well, you are an interesting subject. It's no wonder they want you for the Weapon X project," his speech slithered like a snake as he hissed through his hood. Nathan was not interested in anything he had to say. He charged him again only to be barraged by bullets again. He tried to snatch the man called Deadpool but he was too swift for him while he was under attack.

Three more slices sent pain shooting across his back and left arm again. Nathan reached for the man's sword, even though it cut his skin, he tugged it away from the man. With his new weapon, Nathan lobbed off the man's arms in two swift swipes, jabbed the blade into the man's navel and punched him through some shelves.

The man emerged from a pile of books, his arms intact, though now bare from the clothing having been cut away. He pulled the sword out and blood spurted out of his stomach, but then quickly stopped. The man smiled underneath his hood, his facial expression barely visible.

Nathan instantly realized the futility of the fight. Deadpool was neither as fast nor as strong as he was. His ability to regenerate instantaneously, even lost limbs, made him seemingly impossible to kill. The other agents were on their feet, ready to fire.

"Stop! Stand down soldier! I'm taking care of this one!" the man's voice rasped from across the room. With reluctance, fear and reverence, the men obeyed. There was no reason to stand and fight a battle he could not win. Nathan's pride was not as important as his safety and freedom. He turned tail and ran for his life towards a window. Before he realized it, yellow neon netting encased around him, pinning him to the floor. It was painful, as if it were burning him. The more he struggled the more pain it caused him. It was using his energy against him, he soon realized.

"Sleep…" Deadpool squirted some sort of gas in his face and Nathan instantly felt his vision blur. It was some sort of sleeping agent and he'd already inhaled way too much of it. His vision began to fade along with his hopes of rescuing his beloved.

Lindsey…I'm so sorry.

He woke up to the sound of a train moving on its tracks. The sound was unmistakable. When he opened his eyes, there was a blinding light shining down on him, but he was obviously used to it from being underneath it for so long. He shielded his eyes and stood up. He had never felt so weak and sore in his life. His mutant powers were gone; there was no mistaking it. Somehow, he'd been robbed of them. He looked and saw that he was underneath a bright circle in the center of one of the train's compartments. He stepped forward to get out of the light and suddenly a yellow, translucent cylinder appeared like a laser around the circumference of the circle he was in. Touching the yellow laser-light was like being burned, frozen and electrocuted at the same time. It wasn't intense unless he pushed hard on it. It was the same technology as the net he'd been trapped in, he remembered from his fight earlier, using his own energy against him.

"It's no use," whispered a voice that was all too familiar. Nathan wasn't exactly thrilled that he knew the sound of Deadpool's voice. "Your powers are only suspended while you're under the radiation in the chamber. I assure you that you haven't been robbed of them permanently."

"Where am I?"

"You're on a train bound for Sheol, the MCA's most notorious prison for the most dangerous mutants," Deadpool answered simply.

"Who are you?"

"I told you, the name is Jack. You may call me Deadpool."

"Why did you come after me?"

"You're just all full of questions aren't you? You should try being more concerned about what others have to say. For all you know, I could be willing to volunteer everything that you need to know," the man sneered. Nathan noticed that he was fully clothed again and still masked.

"Why are you helping the MCA to catch me?" Nathan rephrased his previous question. Deadpool gave a heavy sigh.

"I'm a Retriever—it's what I do. I handle cases of the most dangerous mutants, of which you stand among. I give the MCA what they want, and they grant me pay and pardon. It's quite a simple negotiation."

"You said that you are a mutant? They let you work for them?"

"I told you that I was a mutant for all practical purposes. I was not born a mutant, as you were, but made one through medical experimentation."

"Does that have anything to do with Weapon X?" Nathan inquired curiously. He wanted to bust out of the chamber he was in, but given his circumstances, he had no choice but to make conversation.

"I'm not going to discuss that," Deadpool replied simply. He was sharpening one of his swords. He said no more, and looked away, as if he didn't want to talk anymore.

"You're a mutant, made or born, and you hunt and retrieve mutants, sealing their fate with the MCA? How do you live with yourself?"

"A conscience is something that can be quelled, my friend, I assure you. I did away with mine a long time ago," he laughed. The sound was even creepier than his snake-like voice.

"I'm not your friend," Nathan spat.

"Considering your circumstances, I'm the only friend you have, Nathan," he laughed again.

"If you're my friend, then why don't you let me go? Why are you taking me to prison?"

"It's just business, friend. You're worth money and an extended pardon, that's all. I have to turn you in, but I can tell you everything that you need to know to survive in Sheol," he offered, his tone changing. There was almost, for a nanosecond, a shred of compassion and promise in his voice.

"What's Sheol again?" Nathan was sure that he'd heard that word before. The funny thing was, he thought of church and the Bible whenever he repeated the word in his mind.

"Sheol is a maximum security prison designed specifically for the most dangerous of mutants. Its levels are named after the worst parts of hell and the super computer that controls the security protocols is named after Abaddon, the Destroyer, keeper of the Bottomless Pit," Deadpool explained.

"That's lovely," Nathan said sarcastically, once again borrowing one of Caleb's colloquialisms.

"Quite the contrary. I've seen what they do to mutants there. Starving them, keeping them in a pit of darkness and doing all kinds of medical experiments on them…it's disgusting," he spat.

"I thought you did away with your conscience," Nathan challenged.

"I did, but that doesn't mean I'm not still aware of what is good and what is evil. We're all capable of both," he looked away.

"Why don't you let me go? You don't want me to have to go to Sheol, I can tell. Let me go," Nathan didn't mean to beg and plead, but his tone sounded desperate. He was afraid that Deadpool would laugh at his weakness and desperation.

"I'm sorry, friend, but I must. You're going to buy me a little more time with them. Time is all that I have left in this life. Besides, they will probably take you in the Weapon X program, which means that you'll be left alive," he assured, though his tone was not hopeful at all.

"What is Weapon X?"

"Originally it was an experimental project on mutants stationed in Canada. It was closed long ago. All of the other members are dead now, Sabretooth, Silver Fox, Maverick, Wolverine…I am all that is left of that miserable project. They've reopened it there at Sheol, hoping to achieve the ultimate weapon. Enhanced senses and healing factors are their favorite mutations to work with so they'll think you'll do nicely," he smiled again, through his hood.

"How can you turn me over to something like that?"

"It's not so bad, if the experiments don't kill you," he sneered, his darkness slipping out again.

"For your sake, you'd better hope that we never meet again," Nathan said, quoting a taunt from one of his favorite movies.

"I appreciate the sentiment, but I don't think that you're in the position to be making threats."

"If it weren't for people like you, mutants and humans might be able to live in peace!" Nathan gave a groundless accusation. He was too enraged to think of anything else clever to say. Deadpool laughed.

"You think I want to live this life? You think I want to have to hunt people down and turn them over to monsters like the MCA? No one chooses there lot in life, at least not now. I'll tell you my real intentions, my end to justify the means," he proposed, pausing for Nathan's approval.

"Well—let's hear it," Nathan shrugged, nothing better to do.

"If I continue to appease the bigwigs in the MCA, hunting down the mutants they see as such threats, I will be able to get close to the brass and kill the madman behind this all," Deadpool's speech had taken a diabolical air.

"You plan on assassinating the head of the MCA?" Nathan asked flabbergasted.

"Yes. Not just him, but all of his advisors and benefactors. I plan on crippling the MCA forever. I'm not in a position to do that in my current situation so…"

"So that's why you need to catch mutants—to gain approval from the MCA so that you can destroy them from within," Nathan filled in the blanks.

"Yes. Surely you can appreciate such a vision."

"I'm afraid I'm kind of biased considering I'm one of the lambs you're leading to the slaughter," Nathan replied.

"Point taken. I'm sorry that it had to be like this for you. I'm sorry that it had to be me. I don't like doing bad things to good men, but I must sacrifice the few for the sake of the many—if we want to be free…" he trailed off. He knew that what he was doing was wrong. Clearly, he thought it was okay to right a wrong with a wrong.

"It's amazing what lengths men will go to protect what they treasure most," Nathan added, mostly to his own thoughts.

"What do you treasure?" It was Deadpool's first question to him, his first sign of interest in Nathan on a personal level. The question caught him off guard.

"Life, love, the pursuit of happiness. Freedom, goodness, justice—things like that," Nathan replied, bearing his soul to him.

"That all sounds very heroic. Let me tell you one thing that people love better than a hero: a martyr. The only way to survive in this life is to rest in the shadows of the gray area between good and evil—either absolute will get you nowhere," Deadpool started to do the same. Nathan had never, he felt, understood someone so much as he did Deadpool right then, in that moment. Though he was his prisoner, and he hated hit with a sinful fire burning deep inside of him. He hated him for his ignorance and weakness, despite his insight and strength.

"I'm sorry…I have to believe that there is still point in being good. What can a man stand on, if not his convictions?" Nathan asked.

"You're a stronger man than I, Nathan. I wish that I could be like you but my circumstances do not permit it," he hung his head shamefully.

"That is what separates us, Deadpool: standing for what we believe despite our circumstances. I don't know what part of you you're missing or what you're trying to prove by destroying the MCA, but I can give you this one piece of truth that is true for all men regardless of race, religion or circumstance: there is nothing more rewarding than laying your head on your pillow at night, knowing you gave everything you had for what you believed and what you loved," the speech moved Nathan, he had a hard time believing it was coming from his mouth.

"I wish that I had met you earlier in my life, friend. You might have been able to convince me then…forget about me. Pretend you never knew me, it will do you good," and with that, Deadpool walked out of the compartment, leaving Nathan alone.

Not alone…he thought to himself, remembering the one thing that he still held onto, when all else failed him.

God, I need you. Rescue me…