Chapter 3: Home

"WE'RE HOME!" sang Wade.

"Oh God," mumbled Victor, sitting on the front porch, previously attempting to have a nap.

Wade walked up the driveway, carrying only his favorite weapons and leaving the rest for Jean and Naomi, who were just instructed to put them in the shed. He did another weird dance you'd only expect a man on meth to do, and strode right up next to Victor.

"Did ya miss me, Vic?" asked Wade.

"No," Victor replied.

"Oh, come on," badgered Wade. "You're only taking a nap because you missed me."

"I didn't miss you, Wade," groaned Victor.

"Reeeeally?" drawled Wade. "Because I think that—URK!"

. . .

"Hey," interrupted Jean, as he was helping Naomi carrying a large box of various weapons to the shed. He was pointing up at the porch. "Vic's chokin' Wade again."

"Oh, yeah," observed Naomi. "Does he do that a lot?"

"Yeah, all da time," replied Jean, smiling.

"Nice house, by the way," complimented Naomi.

The house, which was more like a mansion, was huge. If you've ever seen the Oak Alley Plantation, or the Destrehan Plantation (Google those), it looks like that. Beautiful, white columns held up the porches, which were situated right above a swamp. White paint covered every inch of the house, even the gazebo that lead off to the speed boats.

"Thanks!" said Jean. "Mystique said it used ta belong ta da Assassin's Guild before day let us use it."

"Cool," remarked Naomi.

Both teens finished putting all of Wade's unnecessary gear in the shed, and walked back up to the car. Naomi got her things, and then followed jean up to the house.

. . .

"Vic—" gasped Wade, pointing at Naomi and Jean walking up the stairs. "New—kid—"

Victor looked over and saw the teenager walking up the stairs. He had both hands around Wade's neck, and Wade was wriggling in his clutches.

Victor released Wade's skinny neck, and Wade dropped to the ground, panting for air.

"ONE too many times in the last twenty-four hours," claimed Wade, standing up, using the porch railing for support. "I will not have any lack of oxygen, again, ever."

"Who's the new kid?" asked Victor with a sneer.

"Naomi Growl. I call her Girr. She killed a guy! She shot Jean in a contest, so that's a point for Team Deadpool!" explained Wade with a scarily happy tone to his voice.

"Hi, Vic," greeted Jean.

"Hello," said Naomi.

Victor sneered. He didn't like people, except for Raven, and he especially didn't like new people.

"Why're you here?" Victor asked.

"I said she killed a guy!" reminded Wade.

"I killed his target," continued Naomi. "So I thought that since I'm good at it I'd come here."

Victor chuckled. He leaned in closer to Naomi. "You don't know the first thing 'bout killin'."

"Jean hasn't killed anyone," argued Wade. "She's done better than him!"

Jean sighed, and walked inside the house.

"Whatever," mumbled Victor. "I don't care who ya bring here as long as they don't get in the way."

He walked inside, and Naomi and Wade followed. Naomi found herself in a huge foyer, with twenty-foot ceilings, and a large, elegant staircase leading to the second floor. To the left was what appeared to be a TV room, while to the right was the kitchen. Wade walked into the kitchen, and Naomi tagged along.

"Hey, Raven!" shouted Wade.

A woman, with blue, slightly scaly skin and blood-red hair, was sitting at the kitchen table, cleaning a few guns.

"What Wade?" Raven replied.

Wade grabbed onto Naomi's backpack and tugged her into the kitchen. He pointed from himself to her back to himself several times.

"Team Deadpool, Raven," stated Wade. "EAT IT!"

"Oh, wonderful," mumbled Raven. "A new kid. About time, and at least I won't be the only girl in this place."

"Well that's good," replied Naomi. "I was afraid you'd hate me, too."

Raven stood up out of her chair, walked over to Naomi, and put her arm around the teen.

"What's your name," Raven asked.

"Naomi," blurted Wade.

Raven and Naomi glared at him.

"Naomi," said Naomi.

"Well, Naomi," continued Raven. "Vic hates everyone, except for me, so just get used to that. He'll warm up, eventually."

"Or he'll kill you," remarked Wade.

Raven glared at Wade, and shook her head in embarrassment

"You survived a 20 hour car ride with him?" she asked Naomi.

"Barely," explained Naomi.

"Anyway; so, you stick with me, and I'll show you the ropes—"

"Like how to be a hooker," interrupted Wade.

Raven glared at him, again. Wade was about to add something else when Raven, valiantly, kicked him in the shin. He screamed. You could hear Victor laughing in the other room.

"Anyway, as you can see, Wade'll just confuse you and we all think Jean wets himself." Raven finished.

"I DO NOT!" screamed Jean from another room. He walked back into the kitchen; his head was hung slightly lower than before, giving him that horrible puppy-dog look that makes you feel sorry for someone, only Jean had that enraged look on him that gave him more of a puppy on steroids appearance.

"Just show Naomi her room," insisted Raven.

"Dis way…" mumbled Jean.

Jean walked out of the kitchen, and Naomi followed. She thought she heard Raven say something vicious to Wade in a hushed tone, but that could have simply been him moaning.

Both teens walked up the large, elegant staircase, and Jean took Naomi down the left hall.

"Ya might wanna be on da East side 'o da house," mentioned Jean. "Raven and Vic got dare rooms on the West and—let's jus' say you'll never 'tink of a chair da same way again if ya near dare room at night."

Naomi paused for a moment, collecting whatever perverted thoughts slipped into her mind after hearing that.

"I think I've got a pretty good idea…" Naomi remarked.

"Whatever yer 'tinking," replied Jean. "Was what I was 'tinking before I made da mistake 'o gettin' a room next ta dares!"

Shaking her head, trying to imagine what was worse than what she'd pictured in her mind, Naomi followed Jean to a room at the end of the hall. It had a white door, just like all the other rooms in the house, and the shiny, bronze doorknob reflected all the light seeping in through the window at many artistic angles.

"Dis is da only one dat should be decent," cautioned Jean as he opened the door. "Da rest are filled wit explosives and guns and stuff dat Wade can't fit in his room. Don't go in dare, by da way."

Naomi peered inside the room as the door swung open. It was a fair sized room, with white walls and brown, wooden floor boards. It had wood floors, and a closet with, yes, another white door. A small, twin-sized bed sat in the corner, next to two elegant white windows. Other than the hanging lights, the walls were completely bare.

"Home-sweet-home," mumbled Naomi.

Jean smiled and walked away, down the hall to what must have been his room.

Naomi stepped into the plain room. The only thing that crossed her mind was that she'd need several demotivation posters, and a coat of paint. And clothes.

She took off her backpack and laid it on the bed. Selene, her cat, was inside, quiet as ever. Naomi unzipped it and Selene jumped out and stretched. She rubbed against Naomi, and Naomi stroked the cat's soft fur.

Deep inside Naomi's subconscious, behind her Immorality, past her most involuntary mannerisms and habits, after all of the Ninjutsu and Kyudo lessons she'd taken over the years, in the very deepest and darkest recesses of her mind, a single thought stood out amongst everything on her mind right now:

This place felt, in one way or another, like home.