After withstanding the explosion with her shield, Sarah shot straight down from the upper floors like a comet in heels.
Below, the chaos brigade—aka the men in black—gawked, their collective brain cell short-circuiting. Not only was the "target" alive, but she looked like she'd just stepped off a photoshoot. No soot, no scrapes—just vibes.
"Oi! Snap out of it!" their squad leader barked, snapping fingers like a frustrated drama coach.
Like clockwork, handguns, machine guns, and a particularly menacing AK-47 were all raised in her direction.
Rat-a-tat-tat!
But Sarah didn't even flinch. Instead of blocking the barrage, she pulled the ultimate trick: shadow teleportation.
"Where the hell is she?!" the leader screamed, swiveling his head like he was trying to find his car keys.
"Up here."
Cue the synchronized huh? as every head tilted upward. There she was, floating in the air, wreathed in flames like some kind of gothic angel. Her hands ignited, glowing with fiery chaos.
"Brimstone Barrage!" she shouted, the words dripping with casual dominance.
And down came the fireballs—hellfire meteor shower style. Tiny flaming death pellets rained down on the panicked squad. Guns were dropped, heads were covered, and a few brave souls made a desperate dash for their cars. Too bad for them, Sarah's aim was spectacularly equal opportunity.
BOOM. The cars exploded like action-movie set pieces. Flames devoured everything in sight, turning the squad into charcoal sculptures. Not a drop of blood, not a single limb out of place—just the eerie stillness of cooked bad guys.
Sarah descended slowly, as indifferent to the destruction as a cat knocking over a glass. She scanned the smoldering scene, mentally reviewing her moves for any errors. Satisfied, she reached for her phone to report to the authorities.
Meanwhile, across town, the NYPD was in meltdown mode. Between overtime, understaffed precincts, and wild terrorist attack reports, officers were practically walking zombies. A few had started carrying extra coffee instead of guns—priorities.
Sarah was mid-text when a voice, slicker than an oil spill, echoed from the shadows.
"YO, BLACK FLAME BEAUTY, YOU SINGLE?"
"Hey, beautiful~ Are you texting your boyfriend? Tell him he's a lucky guy. No, seriously. Lucky. Like lottery-winning-lucky. I'm jealous."
Her brow furrowed as a figure stepped into the light. Tight red suit. Dual swords. His hands theatrically covered his face as he let out an exaggerated sob.
"Ugh. You've got a boyfriend already, don't you? My heart... shattered. I'll never love again."
Sarah stared, her eye twitching like it wanted to rage-quit her face. Of all the people, it had to be him.
"Wade."
He gasped, pointing at her like she'd just spoiled his favorite show. "Wait, you know me? Oh no, did we date in a parallel universe? Was I a terrible boyfriend? Did I eat your fries? Or worse—tell me I didn't ghost you!"
"Wade…" she said again, her voice laced with the kind of patience reserved for kindergarten teachers and hostage negotiators.
"Fine, fine," he said, dramatically throwing up his hands. "I'll admit it. I'm unforgettable. Like glitter at a craft store."
She pinched the bridge of her nose. This day couldn't get any worse.
Or could it?
Wade Wilson, aka Deadpool. A former special forces soldier who became a mercenary after his retirement. Diagnosed with cancer, he underwent the "Weapon X" program. While the experiment cured his cancer by injecting Wolverine's genes, it also caused his brain cells to grow uncontrollably, driving him insane. The rejection of his healing factor by the cancer cells resulted in disfigurement and scarring, but it also turned him into an almost immortal mutant.
He wielded dual swords and guns, with a healing factor far beyond Wolverine's, and a belt that allowed him to teleport. He was also a top chatterbox, constantly spewing irreverent, meta-comments.
Alias: Little Sh*t~
"I know! You're my fan!" Wade's masked eyes stretched wide with excitement, like a kid spotting a unicorn at a comic-con.
Sarah blinked. What?
"A fan! I have a fan! HAHA!" Wade spun around, throwing his arms up like he'd just won the lottery. "Hey, everyone! Did you see this? This beauty—yeah, the one in the hoodie—says she's my fan! Oh my god, I have a fan!"
He paused as if letting an invisible audience soak in the moment. "What's that? You're saying you can't tell if she's a beauty because her face is covered? Don't be ridiculous! Look at those legs. Those are beautiful legs! And, okay, sure, not that big up top for my liking, but hey, we're not all built like comic book characters. Definitely a beauty. I'll bet a dollar she's a beauty!"
Sarah stood silently, arms crossed, watching him jabber on. Why does it feel like he's talking to... someone else? Her eyes narrowed.
And then it hit her.
Wait. Did he just comment on her chest? She had a full D-cup, leaning toward an E.
Pervert. Her expression darkened.
Before she knew it, her leg shot out like a cannon, and Wade was airborne.
Thud.
"Oof!" Wade hit the ground but bounced up almost instantly, clutching his chest. "Whoa, someone's got anger issues. But hey, I like it! Spicy!" He let out a playful laugh. "Alright, alright, calm down, Miss Karate Kid. I'll still win my dollar!"
"...!"
Sarah stared, incredulous. She silently raised her thumb in approval. If he could still talk after that, he deserved the recognition.
"Say, can I see your face? Just a peek?" Wade strolled toward her, hands on his hips, head tilted. "C'mon, a dollar's at stake! And a dollar can buy—uh—well, not much, but it's the principle!"
"No," Sarah said flatly, the word sharp enough to cut through Wade's nonsense.
"Why not? Pleeeeease? Just a li'l peeky-peek?" Wade leaned in close, trying to nudge his masked head near hers like a curious puppy.
Her fist met his face. Hard.
"Whoa! Lady's got fists like meteors!" Wade stumbled back but caught her hand mid-swing, genuinely impressed. "You've been working out, huh? What's your regimen? Bench-pressing bad guys? Shadowboxing the sun?"
"What the hell are you here for?" Sarah snapped, wrenching her hand free. "And why now, of all times?"
"Oh, right!" Wade straightened up, snapping his fingers. "I almost forgot. I'm here for a job. Turns out... the target's you!"
"...Me?" Sarah raised a brow.
"Yup!" Wade chirped, crossing his arms triumphantly. "Classic merc gig. Probably nothing personal. Well, maybe a little personal."
"And who hired you?"
"Wesley."
Sarah's glare sharpened, and Wade froze.
"Crap! Did I just say the employer's name?! No, no, no—wait, you guessed it! That's right! I didn't say a thing!"
Wade dramatically clamped his hands over his mouth, shaking his head like a cartoon character caught in a lie.
Sarah pinched the bridge of her nose. She was going to kill Wesley for this.
And maybe Wade too, just for fun.
"..."
"So, are we gonna fight?" Sarah finally broke the silence, her tone sharp as she eyed Wade. He stood there, looking like a kid caught raiding the cookie jar, except way more entertained.
"Or is this a staring contest?" she added, her voice dripping with sarcasm.
"But... you're my fan," Wade said, clutching his chest as if her words had physically wounded him. "Why would I fight my fan? That's like punching a unicorn! Unethical!"
Sarah blinked. What the hell is wrong with him?
"You... got paid for the job, didn't you?" she said, barely keeping the incredulity out of her voice.
Wade paused, stroking his chin as if deep in thought. "I mean, you're not wrong." Then he perked up. "Oh, wait—you're totally right! They did pay me!"
Shing!
His twin swords slid out dramatically as he struck a pose that probably made sense in his head.
"But let me just say," he declared, flourishing the blades like he was auditioning for a circus act, "they definitely didn't pay enough. A guy's gotta eat! And by eat, I mean, support my very real family—uh, my cats. Do chimichangas count as dependents?"
Before Sarah could respond, Wade lunged.
Whoosh!
His swords sliced through the air, but Sarah shadow-teleported out of harm's way faster than he could shout "Plot twist!"
"Whoa!" Wade exclaimed, spinning around to spot her. "Teleportation? Nice! What's next? Laser eyes? Summoning the Kraken? Ooh, ooh—can you turn into a car like a Transformer?"
Ignoring his rambling, Sarah tilted her head and then reached into the shadows. Out came a dark replica of Gáe Bolg, its menacing spearhead gleaming ominously.
"Oh, cool weapon!" Wade chirped, his voice muffled as he ducked her first swing. "Did you get that on Etsy? No, wait—Amazon, right? They've got everything!"
Clang! Clang!
The sound of metal clashing filled the air as Sarah and Wade engaged in a fierce fight, her spear versus his twin swords. Sparks flew, and for a moment, the battle looked evenly matched.
Until it wasn't.
Snap!
Wade stared at the broken hilts of his swords, his hands still gripping them as the shattered blades clattered to the ground.
The man looked like he was about to cry.
"Uh... are you okay?" Sarah asked, genuinely taken aback by his sudden silence. She cautiously stepped forward, wondering if he was hurt.
Then she heard him.
"My swords... My money... My swords... My money..."
"..."
Sarah stood there, speechless, watching him crouch on the ground like a defeated anime character.
"What is wrong with this guy?" she muttered, her voice carrying equal parts confusion and exasperation.
Wade suddenly leaped to his feet, his face (well, mask) alight with renewed energy.
"Enough talking! Let's duel!" he shouted, whipping out his twin pistols like a magician pulling rabbits out of a hat.
He fired, the bullets ricocheting harmlessly off Sarah's shield.
"No way!" Wade gasped, his voice equal parts horror and amazement. "How are we supposed to fight like this? I NEED MORE MONEY!"
His frustration quickly morphed into excitement. "Wait—does this mean you're like my final boss? Awesome! Do I get bonus XP for defeating you? Can I loot your spear? What's your respawn time?"
Sarah said nothing, her shield raised, watching him with the blank expression of someone realizing they were stuck in a loop of chaos.
"Man," Wade continued, shaking his pistols dramatically as if that would make them more effective, "this is why I need better funding. Wesley really stiffed me on this gig!"
His bullets bounced off again, and instead of being discouraged, he grinned wider.
"Okay, okay," he said, holstering the guns with a flourish. "Let's call this a warm-up round. Best of three? Or do you prefer sudden death?"
Sarah sighed. She couldn't kill the man and more importantly, she had no beef with him, he wasn't one of the bad guys.
"How much did they pay you?" Sarah, now curious, asked how much Wade was actually getting for this job.
"One and a half million."
Sarah did a dramatic double-take, her expression a mixture of disbelief and judgment. "No way, that cheap? I've already caused them over ten million in damages these past few days, and they only paid you one and a half million?"
"Huh?"
Wade blinked like he didn't know the meaning of "overpriced." "Well, hey, I'm affordable, alright? I'm like the clearance rack of hitmen. Just one snazzy price, and boom, you get what you pay for! You need me to kill someone? Sure, just toss me a couple of bucks, and I'll get right to it."
Sarah deadpanned. "And that's supposed to be good?"
"I mean, I'm not cheap, I'm discounted!" Wade quipped, throwing finger guns at no one in particular.
...
In Wade's own mental flashback...
When Wesley first approached Deadpool, he had mentally prepared for a major loss, but he was blindsided by what happened next.
"Hmm... kill someone? Just one person? Let me think... two million," Wade mused.
"..."
Wesley was speechless.
Wade, completely misreading the situation, nodded solemnly. "Too much? Okay, new client discount—one and a half million. But only for you, buddy. You'll be telling all your friends what a steal this was!"
Wesley could hardly process it. Only two million? For Deadpool? This had to be a joke.
Back to the present...
"Ah!! I'm losing! I'm losing!" Wade dramatically collapsed onto the floor, his legs flailing as he pounded the ground.
Sarah rubbed her temples, already regretting being in this situation. "Actually, one and a half million is a lot. I mean, for most people it takes one lifetime working just to gather a million. It's not cheap, you know?"
Wade wiped a fake tear away, utterly unconcerned. "Woo woo woo... I lost my knives, my dignity, and my bank account's probably sweating. Can't even collect my paycheck for getting wrecked by a lady in a hoodie. This is a disaster!"
Sarah stared at him for a moment. The guy had no filter. None.
"You're really in need of money, huh?"
Wade dramatically threw his hands up in the air. "Yeah! I need to save up for a wedding, okay? Can't let the love of my life down... even though the 'love of my life' might be a chimichanga. But who's counting?"
"..." Sarah's expression softened for a brief moment—before it swiftly hardened again.
"Oh, I see... How about taking up another job? Five million, what do you say?"
Wade froze. Then, his eyes grew impossibly wide. "Wait, five million?! FIVE MILLION?! Well, hell yeah, sign me up! I'll fight whoever you need, rob a bank, dance on a cruise ship—I'm in! Just don't make me wear a suit, okay? I'm a free spirit!"
"Done."
Wade's excitement hit maximum overdrive. "Five million, baby! You're gonna love my deadpooling skills!"
"Wait, wait," Wade said, pausing mid-thought like he'd just realized he'd forgotten to put pants on. "First, pay a deposit of one and a half million, and the rest when the job's done. Thanks for the business!" He gave her a thumbs-up like he was handing out free cookies.
Sarah blinked. "... I don't have the deposit right now. How about paying after the job's finished?"
Wade scratched his head, clearly scrutinizing Sarah's face like he was trying to figure out if she had an alien symbiote under her skin. "Hmm... you know, I really wanna see your face," he said, eyes squinting like he was analyzing an ancient artifact.
Sarah deadpanned. "... You better be careful. Vanessa might beat you up."
Wade froze for a second, his eyes narrowing like he was trying to solve a riddle with no clues. "How do you know Vanessa? Who are you?" His voice dropped into mock suspicion. "Are you some sort of secret agent? A spy?" He circled her, scanning for any hidden weapons or explosives. "You even got a cool spy name?"
"I also know Colossus, Storm, and Professor X. What's so strange about that?" she asked, clearly unimpressed.
Wade stared at her for a long moment, eyes widening as if she'd just told him she was the Queen of England. "That metal guy and the bald head? Know them too? Are you a mutant?" he asked, tapping his chin like he was piecing together a jigsaw puzzle with no picture on the box. "This is like a bad episode of Where Are They Now?"
Sarah shrugged. "I'm not, but I know of them... including Wolverine."
Wade's eyes practically popped out of his skull. "Which Wolverine? Oh, that guy! Damn. The one with the claws? Yeah, he's a fun guy. And that wolf? He just howls at stuff, right? Probably won't be fun if he decides you're his next chew toy." He nodded like he was imparting some major life wisdom. "Better hope Wolverine doesn't get bored... or cranky."
"...Fine, what's the mission? When do we start?" Wade asked, adjusting his stance like he was about to leap into action, even though he'd been doing nothing but talking for the past ten minutes.
Sarah turned, ignoring his question for a second. "I need to find Wesley. Can you help me?"
Wade immediately grinned, tapping his fingers together like an old-timey cartoon villain. "Sure! I'll just say you were taken care of, and then I'll go ask for the money. Oh, and I'll ask for extra cash, because, you know, my knife broke. And let's be real, that was my most important tool." He rubbed his hands together. "Extra cash? Can you wait until I get the money before you go after him? It'll be like a little vacation."
Sarah's eye twitched. "...Are you even a mercenary anymore? What happened to the basic mercenary code? You want to get paid twice?!"
"Twice?" Wade raised an eyebrow as she'd just accused him of stealing a puppy. "I gotta eat, you know. And my toilet paper's running out... It's a crisis. Not to mention, I have extremely thick skin, but not that thick. You'd be surprised how quickly the TP situation can spiral out of control."
"Running out of toilet paper has nothing to do with me!" Sarah shot back, her frustration mounting. "And what does your thick skin have to do with any of this?"
Wade took a moment to think, dramatically pointing his finger in the air as if he were about to deliver an earth-shattering truth. "Look, if you don't understand the critical importance of adequate butt-wiping, we're not gonna get anywhere, okay?" He threw his hands up like he'd just explained quantum physics.
Sarah just stared at him, silent for a moment. "...Unbelievable."
Wade shrugged nonchalantly, turning to go. "Alright, alright. But seriously, this job is gonna be a pain in the ass. Figuratively and literally."