Killshot [a Deadpool fanfiction]

Chapter One

My sleeve ripped, the motion of a blade running along the seams. I paid no attention to the crimson liquid dripping from my skin, and the stinging feeling. It lasted for a moment before I could feel my flesh stitch together and the sensation of my wound being sealed from the elements. I snarled at him, the man who I had been hunting since dawn, who caused the damage to my clothing. It was a hassle to patch every hole, tear or cut in my suit, not because I was not good at sewing — I had learned to do so at a young age — I hated the thought of this leather suit becoming more of patchwork than a work of art.

I towered over his body with a scowl under my mask and raised my gun. I said something cheesy, I could practically taste the cheddar in my mouth as the quip rolled off of my tongue — though I was sure it was from the leftover pizza I had earlier. I tried aiming for his head, but he was faster than I thought. I was caught off guard by the kick to my right shin and quickly pulled the trigger in response. The silver pierced his kidney, went through the carpet and punctured into the floorboards. He roughly gripped at the wound as blood pooled from it, his kidney ruptured. My eyes glossed over it, I almost forgot what a bullet through the body looked like. I had been so used to moving on to the next activity after shooting, or having my bullet wound seal within seconds — that staring at the cavity of his side, I felt an odd pang in my chest.

I huffed and put another bullet through him. That time, through his head as first intended. That odd feeling was still there, but I shrugged it off. I had a job to do. I took a step back from him. The air had a strong scent of iron, and paper. I was sure the iron I smelt was from my blood soaked mask, though.

"Yoo-hoo!" I called out and spun around, I was ready to leave. "Anyone home?" I wandered around the office as I looked for a remaining person cowering under a desk, or behind the water cooler, or crawling towards the elevator in an attempt to escape.

I found another, sliced his head off before he could even think of going for the staircase. It all seemed clear, I left the corridors through the elevator. I fixed my mask, I hadn't noticed it was slipping off during the bloodshed. My suit soaked with crimson and sweat, littered with little cuts here and there. I hated it. I hated that my skin peaked out through the leather of my suit every time I got injured.

I looked at my hand, still clutching my katana. I lifted it to the speakers that played that godawful music and stabbed it repeatedly until the music distorted and stammered, and finally stopped. The doors opened, which revealed a room full of angry men. I guessed they caught the news of their boss. I was tired, but the sight of all these men was enough to spark energy in me. I felt adrenaline course through my veins as I dashed towards the group, pushing past them and to the door.

The sound of roaring men echoed the alleyway I sprinted through. "Unlock the car!" I yelled out to Dopinder across the road, my voice was hoarse and raspy. Dopinder turned to me with large doe eyes, my arms waved above my head as bullets flew past me, and through me. He rolled down the passenger window and I dived through it before the cab drove off. I pulled my rear through the gap I was in, and awkwardly wobbled around until I was seated comfortably. It felt all too familiar.

"Hello, Mr Pool!" He greeted me with a nervous smile. "Why were those men following you?" He asked, so casually.

"I wonder the same thing, Dopinder." I winked at him playfully, but he did not understand my joke, nor did he see the wink from beneath my mask. He let out a little laugh, the same one he does when he doesn't understand my jokes. I cleared my throat and faced forward. "I thought I took down the entire operation, I would have done so properly had I not been texted." I remarked with forced annoyance, secretly enjoying the attention given to me. "Because I was distracted, I nearly let a guy go. He was probably the one who called backup..." I shrugged. "But that's a problem for another day, eh? I did my job. The head is gone, the fingers and toes are not my responsibility."