BORN TO DIE. Wade Wilson

01. The Card

──────── BORN TO DIE
THE CARD - CHAPTER ONE.

-ˏˋ⋆ Present Day ⋆ˊˎ-

KATYA sat at the bar, looking at the remaining Vodka in her glass. She rolled her wrist and watched it swirl, letting out a sigh. She ran a tongue along her teeth, leg bouncing up and down on the bar stool.

She brought the liquid so her lips, the Vodka running down her throat. She took in a deep breath after she swallowed and closed her eyes, replacing the glass on the counter.

Her fingers remained along the lip of the glass, her eyes landed on the Dead pool board above the shelf of alcohol behind the bar. She found her name and a smile formed across her lips.

Nobody had bet on her, but beside her name laid Wade Wilson's, her money placed on him. She didn't know the man personally, but she knew he was the kind of man to get his hands dirty when it came to righting wrongs. And she didn't expect it to last long.

The woman put up a pointer finger and waited patiently for Weasel to stop drying the glass he held and bring her another drink.

"Don't you think you've had enough?" He asks, walking over with a towel and glass in hand. He rose an eyebrow, moving the cloth around the inside of the cup. "Seriously, you're drinking straight vodka."

"And?" She asked, looking between him and the glass. She raised an eyebrow. "I'm Russian-"

"You moved to America before you of legal drinking age in either place." Weasel said matter-of-fact. He sets both the towel and empty glass down and shakes his head. "It has nothing to do with the fact you're Russian."

"How do you know that?" She asked, furrowing her brows. She set her elbows down on the counter and leaned her head on her hand, watching as he walked over to retrieve a bottle of vodka.

"You told me last time you were drunk." He says, shrugging. He pours the vodka into the glass she had waiting for him and slides it over to the woman. He takes the dried glass and puts it away, placing the bottle away along with it.

"Bullshit." She said, "I'd remember if I had."

"I don't think you would." He says, walking back over and leaning on the counter before her. "You were pretty damn drunk."

"I don't get drunk." She says, shaking her head. She looked at the glass of vodka in her hand and took a drink, setting the glass down after the liquid made its way down her throat.

"Why? Because you're Russian?" He said sarcastically, rolling his eyes. He let out a sigh.

"Maybe I just have a high alcohol tolerance?" She says, picking the glass up again and pointing it at the man. She took a drink before looking at the bottom of the glass.

"Let me guess." He said. "Because you're Russian."

She shrugged. "I'm telling you, I don't get drunk." As she speaks, her accent suddenly becomes thicker, the slur in her words becoming more visible. She set the glass down and earned a raised eyebrow from Weasel.

"You were saying?" He sighs and turns around, filling a shot and handing it to a man that had sat not too far away from Katya. "Look, I have no problem with you wasting your money on straight Vodka, but you're annoying when you drink."

"How so?" She asked.

"Well last time you were drunk off your ass, you tired to sing karaoke." He said, his lips forming a straight line as he looked at her blankly. "It didn't go too well."

"Sounds to me you're trying to get rid of a regular." She teased, shaking her head.

"Please." Weasel said, rolling his eyes. "We both know you're not leaving."

She let out a sigh and grabbed her glass again, downing the remaining vodka and setting it down in the counter harder than intended. She paused for just a moment then slid him the cup.

"Another?" He asked, gripping the empty cup and preparing to fill it again.

She shook her head. "Nah, I'm outta here." She said. She dug in her back pocket pulling out her wallet.

"Damn, you really are leaving?" He said, leaning against the counter and watching intently as she opened her wallet. She pulled out a few cards, setting them on the counter before finding the correct amount of cash and handing it over.

One by one, she began to replace the cards in her wallet, but stopped as she came across a business card. The matte black card caught her eye, the silver letters catching the light as she moved it between her fingers.

She furrowed her brows as she thought back to receiving it- a man requesting to see her when she hand entered the bar, handing her the card and telling her she could become 'something great.'

'Just like your parents have always wanted' she recalled. She let out a sigh and ran her free hand down her face.

"What's that?" Weasel asked, raising an eyebrow.

"A card some creep gave me the other day." She responded. She flipped it around the back.

The back was blank.

She shook her head and shoved it back in her wallet. "It's nothing." She reassured. The words were meant for both Weasel and for herself, in hopes calming the panic in her chest at the thought of her parents somehow reaching out to her.

She let out a shaky breath and stood, sending a nod to the man before leaving out the back door. She made her way through the alleyway, sliding her hands into her leather jacket as she continued forward.

The wind blew the cold night air around her as she made her way down the side walk, the sky dark and littered with stars. Her hair blew behind her with each step, her face gaining a chill.

The surroundings were quiet and almost peaceful, nobody seeming to be in the close proximity other than those in the bar.

Her shoulders relaxed as she grew less tense, assuring herself that the card was fine. She became more at ease and comfortable as she walked herself forward.

That was her mistake. If she never would have let her guard down, maybe she would've had time to react as a bag was placed around her head.

Maybe, just maybe, she could've done something before everything around her switched to black.

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Im Struggling so hard right now to resist
the urge of writing a Ryan Reynolds fic...

-Kaitlyn