Chapter Three

My fingers long to write a tale that differs from the actual events of the story. My palms itch when I so much as think of the joy of writing the words "upon seeing the man on the other side of the door, Mr. Poe had an uncharacteristic change of heart and decided then and there to bring the orphans back with him for a further review of their file, avoiding the unfortunate incident that would have plagued them if he had chosen to leave them in the care of a one Mr. Wade Wilson." Unfortunately, this is not the case. While this is an act of fiction based on a series written by Lemony Snicket, may God rest his soul, it should be noted that even I cannot change the miserable events that the orphans would endure, otherwise I would do so wholeheartedly. Perhaps I could even change the name of such a fiction to "A Series of Fortunate Events" instead.

Sadly, this is not that particular fiction, and it pains me to say that Mr. Poe very characteristically did not take the children back with him that day. Going out of town instead of inwards ended up being a much quicker drive for the banker, and he left them behind in much less time than it had taken to bring them to their current circumstance. He was, after all, on banking hours and getting back to work had to be his top priority if he wanted to get the promotion that was so close to being within his grasp. That and the city air did not sit well with him and his cough.

Perhaps it is here, after abolishing all hope for a quick escape for the Baudelaire orphans, that I should expand upon the events in the last chapter. Our assassin had, of course, just returned from a job and done his absolute best to not only hide the suit he had been wearing, but also to quick change into a less alarming outfit in record time. In his haste, he looked absolutely ridiculous, something that he was used to being. The sight that greeted the orphans, the banker, and the assistant manager was not the most ridiculous he had ever looked, nor would it ever come within range of the look that holds that title to this day. While I do not know all of the details, it involved three clowns, an inflatable sumo costume, a picnic, seven Canadian geese, and a poorly-timed dog whistle.

As this was not the most ridiculous look Wade Wilson had ever been sported, he talked himself out of the situation rather well, explaining that the unexpected guests at his door had caught him at a bad time. If there was one thing that the assassin had aplenty despite unfortunate physical circumstances, it was a healthy dose of charisma that he used to get himself out of countless situations that could not be solved with bullets, swords, misdirection, or well-aimed, food-based projectiles. Charisma is a certain power of charm that draws others towards the one who has it. It is how people with power obtain more power, people with friends obtain more friends, people with money obtain more money, and how one Mr. Wade Wilson managed to gain three orphans in one fell swoop, making both his and their situation more unfortunate than if he had simply never opened his mouth.

The fact that his face was hidden only aided in his abilities to persuade the banker and the assistant manager that he was not only the man they were looking for but that he would lovingly take care of the the three Baudelaire orphans, of course he knew their parents, and that he would love to show them around, but he didn't want to take their time since they were very busy men. The both of them thoroughly convinced, the assistant manager walked Mr. Poe out to the lobby before returning to his sudoku puzzle.

As the two men were walking down the hallway, the orphans were looking around the living room of the one bedroom apartment, taking in everything around them. It was not as dingy or dirty as the city would lead one to believe, or as poorly upkept as Count Olaf's house had been prior to their vigorous cleaning during their occupation of the dastardly villain's abode. It was definitely the living place of a single male. It was a bit messy, with clothes strewn here and there and it could have done with a good vacuuming, dusting, and carpet cleaning. All things considered, the furniture looked comfortable, the television was a decent size, and the lighting cast the entire place in a warm and welcoming glow. Violet took Sunny from her brother because his arms were getting tired. The door closed and the three snicks of the locks clicking in place decisively closed them in.

As the men were walking down the few flights of stairs to the lobby, the Baudelaires were being ushered to the kitchen by the absolute stranger who was still wearing a paper bag on his head and continued to bump into everything because he had only had time to cut one eyehole. They were sat down on the only two chairs in the little dining area outside of the kitchen. Their new guardian leaned against the counter that separated the kitchen from the dining area like a small peninsula. There was an awkward silence as the three orphans stared at him and he stared back at them, albeit with only one eye, through the one eyehole.

As Mr. Poe was bid a good day and began his journey back to the bank unhindered by traffic, Violet Baudelaire stiffly addressed their new guardian in a manner that reflected several other circumstances that had started with an introduction and ended rather unfortunately for the three orphans. "Hello, I am Violet, this is my younger brother Klaus, and this is my sister Sunny." She was stopped at the end of the "y" in her younger sister's name by a gloved hand as the assassin raised it in a stopping motion.

"Hold up a minute here, just give me a sec to verbally process. Your last name is Baudelaire, which is the most snobby sounding name that I have ever heard in my life, by the way, and I have met with billionaires so snobby is a thing I get. But one of you is named Klaus? Is that spelled with a 'C' or a 'K?'"

"A 'K,'" said Klaus. "Right, of course it is, shouldn't have expected anything else. So Klaus, can you tell me why you are in my little, kitchen, eating area, thing, whatever, right now?" Klaus turned his head to look at his sisters slowly so as not to alarm the strangely clad man who was now trying, rather unsuccessfully, to pick a fluff off of his bathrobe with a rubber glove clad hand. Violet and Sunny simply shrugged. "We are in your dinette because you brought us in here?" Klaus hazarded, turning his head back to the man who had somehow become their guardian. He tried to make eye contact through the eyehole in the paper bag, but couldn't see a single thing through it. Mr. Wade Wilson stopped picking at the bathrobe.

"Is that what this is called? I barely even remember it's here most of the time, just eat in the living room like any normal person does. Huh." He lightly tip-tapped a short burst on the counter with his hands as he popped off of it and started making his way into the kitchen. "Well, I was hoping for more info on the whole orphans living with me thing, but it looks like you guys know about as much as I do about all of this stuff. I'm sure the guy with the hat will come back tomorrow and pick you kids up anyway. You want something to drink? Kids like soda, right?"

In their time as orphans, the Baudelaires had never held a conversation with someone wearing a bathrobe and a paper bag. They had not had the fortune of being in the company of someone who did not not talk down to them immediately upon meeting them. They had rarely had anyone acknowledge that the circumstances surrounding their unceremonious drop-off at the abodes of their various guardians were anything short of strange, or that the guardianship granted to said guardians was a mistake. The Baudelaire orphans had never met anyone quite like Wade Wilson, which was an act of fortune up to this point.

It is my sad duty to inform you that any other resemblance to fortune in this act of fiction will not be found. Chapter Three