Here is chapter 2, and as before things that don't belong to me belong to, well, other people.
Again, a lot of characters and backstory is being taken from comicverse.
I would be honored if you'd spare a minute after reading and leave a review. I'm still not 100% sure about this story and I would love to hear your feedback. Thanks!
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All I ever wanted was to travel to far-off, exotic places,
meet new and exciting people,
and then kill them.
So I became a mercenary.
My name is Wade Wilson
and I love what I do.
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"He has to have some kinda girl."
Wade was, for once, not the one talking. Instead it was Weasel blabbing, trying to figure out why their New York City contact hadn't been home for three days. Wade was picking things up and looking under them.
"I mean, what kinda guy doesn't come back to his place at all?"
"A dead one."
"Nah, Mort's not stupid. He's not gonna get killed. Unless you went and killed him without telling me."
"Ha! He's not even a challenge. You'd think a guy who can jump over a helicopter would be a challenge, but nope. By the way, check it."
Wade showed Weasel a cage full of locusts. A few dead ones were rotting at the bottom.
"Eugh! Wilson, you know I fucking hate insects!"
"Aw, but they're people too." Wade turned the cage around until he found the latch. He snapped it open and tossed the cage to Weasel before heading out of their contact's apartment. He heard Weasel's shrieks and smiled before slamming shut the door.
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// Nineteen Years Ago //
Part of Deadpool died in 1990.
It wasn't just that he'd been beheaded by the two animal brothers, although that was hardly pleasant. It was more the fact that the one part of him that made him slightly more human than the two animal brothers was taken away.
Wade Wilson had been diagnosed with cancer years earlier, but the advanced technology offered by William Stryker kept him alive and, for the most part, healthy. Occasionally he had relapses, but Stryker's team of doctors fixed him whenever it happened. Sometimes, they made him sit through the procedures with little or no anesthetic, which Wade knew was Stryker's way of getting back at him and his big mouth. Whenever Wade mouthed off particularly well, he felt a surge of self-satisfaction. He got respect for talking back, and he knew he needed every ounce of that he could get his hands on, since respect was easy to lose when you were terminally ill.
Thank God for Wolverine, though.
Had the idiot not come back for that adamantium bonding, Wade never would have gotten the guy's healing factor.
Of course, had the idiot not come back, Wade never would have been grafted with an adamantium skeleton of his own and he never would have had his head cut off.
But of course nothing good ever lasted for Wade, not even death, so when he woke up and fixed himself after the set of brothers pushed him off that giant wall, he was surprised to find most of his other augmented powers pretty much gone.
He didn't quite know why (though he figured it had to do with, you know, being beheaded), but it was nice to know he'd never have to worry about shooting lasers out of his eyes. He hadn't liked that particular power much. Felt almost bad for the kid they'd taken in who was stuck with it.
Wade was glad he wasn't the sort to lose sleep over someone else's problems, because if he was he'd never sleep. Lots of people had lots of problems, mostly due to him and his job.
A job he suddenly didn't have.
Wade hadn't been out of work since he'd been working, and although he was sure he'd find more work than he cared to take on soon enough, re-entering the ranks of mercenaries was not particularly fun.
For heavens sake, all the people he had to kill were boring.
Unforgivable.
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// Now //
Despite his love of killing interesting and exciting people, sometimes he found one or two that were amusing yet not quite exotic enough to dispatch of. One of these was Weasel.
Another was Mortimer Toynbee, aka Toad, from York in England. How exactly he ended up in New York City wasn't something Wade knew or cared to know, but ever since Toad had started supplying Weasel with technology, the three of them had become friendly.
Mort wasn't completely stupid, so the degree of friendliness was limited to an occasional stiff drink after the exchange of goods with green. But Wade sometimes listened to Mort's stories.
Wade's personal favorite?
That one time he confused one of the X-men by pulling some ballet moves before getting electrocuted off the top of the Statue of Liberty by her teammate. Even thinking about it made him smirk.
Ballet.
Wade snickered. Jesus Christ, if the X-lady was as hot as she sounded Mort should've just gone with the horizontal tango. Although of course Mort was hardly as good-looking as he was. Any girl would have to be half crazy to find him attractive.
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// Mutant Town //
One thing Wade Wilson knew about New York City was that the half crazy chicks lived in Mutant Town— District X, as the authorities called it.
He happened to know one of the crazy girls— she was a dancer at a club he and Weasel sometimes went to. Apparently now she had a particular favorite customer, but that didn't mean Wade couldn't call in a few favors.
"Wade, I don't owe you any favors."
Lorelei Travis was one of the more popular exotic dancers at the Wildkat Klub. She had pink prehensile hair and what Weasel liked to call a 'killer bod'.
"Sure ya do, sweetheart. You're still alive, aren't you?"
Lorelei couldn't argue with that.
"Aw, I knew you'd come round. I'm looking for this guy."
Wade handed Lorelei a photograph Weasel had conjured up. Lorelei raised a delicate fuchsia eyebrow and nodded.
"He's been in here a couple times, not recently though. I think his name is Frog or Toad or something— pretty sure it's Toad."
"It's Toad," Wade confirmed. "Know where he lives?" Lorelei shot him a disgusted look. "Guess not! Well then, know where we can find him?"
"I'm curious, why—"
"Don't be curious, sweet cheeks. It's better for ya." Wade patted her cheek. "If ya can't help us you'll owe us."
"Ha ha ha." Lorelei was clearly unamused. "You better hope you don't offend anyone more powerful than you while you're out looking for Toad." She drew her plump lower lip into her mouth and thought a moment. "I did hear him mention a Hannah once. Probably meant Hannah Levy."
"And who is this Hannah Levy?"
"Some girl."
"She work here too?" Wade and Lorelei shot Weasel identical looks and he quickly lost the lewd look on his face. "Sorry, geez."
"Anyway, sweet cheeks, care to point me in this Levy's direction?"
Lorelei smiled wryly. "I'd rather not. She happens to be a friend."
"Oh, don't lie to me, dearest. You've barely met the girl." Wade smiled at Lorelei's shock. "You're an open book to me, Lorelei, so if you cherish your hair, you'll tell."
Her pink hair spun off her shoulders and into a tight weave at the back of her head, away from Wade and the pair of scissors he held expertly in his hand.
"She gets coffee at the Cafe Des Artistes, okay? Just— just leave me alone."
Wade waggled his fingers in a farewell as Lorelei backed away. "Thank you for your time. Have a lovely evening."
Lorelei fled backstage.
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// Twelve Years Ago - 1997 //
Sometime between hunting down folk in Egypt and Japan, Wade started regaining his former good looks.
Again, he didn't know why, but he had a feeling it might have had to do with the radiation coming from Blind Al's eyes. Before he met that crazy lady he'd been as ugly as hell and damnation, all chalky skin and hole for a mouth. Also bald, which was the part that bothered him the most after those ridiculous tattoos.
But now, in Japan, he'd lost his red-and-black hood and was sporting a fresh set of lips, a bit of a tan, and a nice little buzz cut. He certainly wasn't as handsome as he had been (not yet, anyway) but he did get the attention of Sazae, the daughter of the man whose crime family he'd been hired to infiltrate.
He spent three years training with the Oyakatas before his employer told him to kill them in 2000.
Of course, his employer hadn't quite realized Sazae had warmed the whole family in Wade's eyes. After seven years of having to pay for sex, he again appreciated amourous women. And, in this case, their families.
So Wade told his employer to go fuck himself before going back to the States.
That was the first time Deadpool didn't finish a job.
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// Now - Cafe Des Artistes //
Years had passed, and Wade was back to his former glory. Being fifty didn't mean he looked fifty, and he certainly didn't act fifty.
No, he looked and (for the most part) acted like a thirty-year old in his prime.
Well, thanks to the remarkably gullible Logan (Wolverine was how he went now, apparently), Wade still was in his prime. And he was actually kind of thankful for it.
He noted the cute waitress who was headed out the door and was slightly more thankful. A better look at her walking away, and he became even more appreciative.
Funny how that worked.
Anyway, he was waiting at the Cafe Des Artistes for Hannah Levy.
Technically, he had Weasel waiting for Hannah Levy. Wade himself was in the second-story apartment across the street, watching the cafe with a pair of binoculars. He zoomed out from admiring the waittress's backside (and lion's tail) and noticed a girl who looked remarkably like the description Weasel had given him walk in.
Wade whistled appreciatively.
If that was Hannah Levy, Toad had outdone himself. She wasn't gorgeous or anything— aside from six black spots below each eye she was pretty plain. But she had an hourglass figure that Wade would be more than willing to kill for.
Which brought Wade back to Mort, who was following her in.
"Bingo."
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// Slightly Before Midnight //
Wade had Weasel detain Mort, who owed them both a significant amount of time.
He followed Hannah Levy home and to work that day. Apparently her job was about as glamorous as her boyfriend— not at all. She wrote and edited articles for some academic magazine in uptown Manhattan, and somehow that kept her living semi-comfortably in New York City.
At the coffee shop, she hadn't gotten any coffee, just a plastic cup of ice water and a baguette, which she ate none of. She handed it to Toad.
In fact, all day at work, she ate nothing. It might have been a little alarming to a normal person, but Wade just figured it had to do with her mutation. He didn't really care.
After she got home and Wade was safely in place outside her windows, watching her carefully, he was only slightly disgusted to see her eating locusts with a tongue like Toad's, only hers was a healthy pinkish-red and not green.
And she was a lot cleaner about it, too. There was no sloppy snatching birds from tree branches or any of the shit Toad liked to pull to gross people out. Actually, she brushed her teeth immediately after eating, which was kind of weird to Wade, who usually waited until just before bed.
Dude looks like a lady comparing tooth-brushing habits. Jesus fucking Christ.
Anyway, watching her catching her food made her wonder what else she could do with her tongue, and that made waiting until she fell asleep to explore her apartment slightly more difficult.
He wasn't Weasel or Victor, though— he could control himself when he needed to.
So he waited.
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// Three Years Ago //
Meeting Mortimer Toynbee in New York City had been a stroke of good luck.
Weasel told Wade that Mortimer was a bit of a tech genius. Wade was pretty sure Mort was better than Weasel sketched him out to be, knowing Weasel.
He'd been an insecure yet skillful 19-year old in '87 when they'd first met, and now, almost twenty years later, Weasel (real name Jacob Hammer) was pretty much exactly the same. Liked to downplay other people's talents to seem better.
Weasel did a good job, so Wade took what he said about others in his field with just a small grain of salt.
He rarely used the term 'genius', so that had to mean something.
At first, Wade figured it was to make up for Mort's looks, because the green Brit was hardly a sight for sore eyes. Hell, he made Wade's eyes sore, at first.
But after seeing what Mort could do to a simple pistol with the proper equipment, Wade's eyes stopped hurting and started glimmering.
"How much do you charge, frog-boy?"
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// Now //
Wade Wilson made a valuable ally in Mortimer Toynbee, but lately he hadn't quite been up-to-scratch. Weasel came up with the girl theory.
Usually Wade would have agreed straightaway, having been drawn off-course by women before, but in Toad's case he wasn't sure. It wasn't just the physical aspect of his mutation— Toad just wasn't a charmer.
Well with a name like Toad you'd have to be stupid to think he would be.
Hannah Levy didn't seem like much of a charmer either, to be honest. Yeah, she had a nice figure. But she was hardly suave or stylish like the little waitress had been.
And she worked for an academic magazine.
Of all the things, that was the most unforgivable. It might take a bit of self-control on Wade's part not to kill her simply for that.
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// Well After Midnight //
Wade slipped in through the window in Hannah Levy's living room. It was the easiest one to access, being on the fire escape, and he figured it was how Mort got in as well. Stupid girl didn't even have a proper deadbolt on the window, it'd be easy to just walk in and kill her.
Which was not the plan.
Not the plan.
The living room was not hugely interesting. There was a television, a couch, and a few chairs crowded around a small dining room table with others around the TV. On the coffee table was a pile of boring-looking books and on the walls were a few photographs of various people, most of them looking enough like Hannah Levy for Wade to label them relatives.
He went into the kitchen next, where he perused the fridge and took out the orange juice. As he circled the small room, he drank from the carton, eventually ending up back at the refrigerator. There was a collection of magnets, one of which held up a picture of Hannah with a woman who was probably her mother.
Wade left to look in the bathroom, the only room left besides hers. A damp towel hung on the back of the door and there was an electric toothbrush charging on the counter by the sink. Still in his combat boots, Wade stepped into the shower and opened up the closest bottle. He sniffed it.
Mmm, peaches and cream.
He could have more easily ignored the thought of how she smelled after a shower if she'd had some floral scent. But no, Mort's girl had to have peaches and cream body wash.
"That's it," he muttered.
He stepped out of the shower and made his way to her bedroom. The door was mostly open, and he heard soft music playing, the sort that grandmothers of the day listened to when they were in their twenties.
He slipped inside her bedroom and once he ascertained she was sleeping averted his eyes from her bed until he was safely settled in the darkest corner. Then he looked.
Hannah Levy slept, like so many, in the fetal position. She was facing him, and in sleep she was perhaps less attractive, without the smile to brighten her face. The sheets were bunched around her waist, hugging her hips. Her arms curled so her hands were clasped neatly under her chin. Her upper arms, curse them, covered her chest.
Only one thing was wrong with the angelic sleeper: her breathing was too shallow.
With a frown, Wade stepped out of the corner.
"You're awake."
A smile tweaked her lips. "Yeah, I guess so." She leaned over to turn on her bedside lamp, but Wade got there first.
"I don't think so, moxy." A katana was out before she had gotten close, and just to be sure, Wade sliced the lamp's cord.
"That wasn't neccessary." She sat up, frowning. "I'm not as interesting as you think I am."
"What?"
"Isn't that your thing? You meet interesting and exciting people and kill them. I'm just letting you know I'm not that interesting."
Wade laughed. Damn it all to hell if she wasn't something else.
"You know an awful lot about me, sweetheart."
"Yeah, well." She shrugged. Wade took the opportunity to see if she was showing anything, but her oversized t-shirt was doing a good job of keeping her covered. "I've got friends in low places, what can I say."
"Quoting Garth Brooks, huh? You are my kinda woman, Levy."
"Well, I'm sorry, but I'm taken."
"You will be sorry once you get a load of what you're missing."
"From what I hear, just the biggest mouth in the history of the world." He could hear the smile in her voice. "Besides, I can see now. You aren't anything special."
"I'm hurt. Aren't you taken in by my charm and wit?"
She laughed warmly, and Wade slid his katana back into its sheath.
She was right.
She wasn't interesting.
She was fascinating.
And if he wanted to keep Toad on his buddy list, he knew Hannah Levy was going to have to stay in one piece. One half-delicious, half-ordinary, all-interesting piece.
Good luck with that.