My Merc. (deadpool x reader)

♥Chapter 2♥

The morning sun had barely risen when you finally decided to dial the number from the card. The voice on the other end was as clinical as you expected, giving you nothing more than an address and a time. No details, no explanations—just coordinates. You had a bad feeling about it, but bad feelings were nothing new. So you went, because what else was there? The location was as shady as you imagined—an old, decrepit facility that looked like it hadn't seen proper funding in years. The place was lifeless, the walls cracked and peeling, like the remnants of something forgotten. The whole vibe screamed "back alley operation," and for a moment, you wondered if this was where you'd die. Maybe it was all just an elaborate setup to harvest your organs or sell your body to the highest bidder. But then, the familiar figure of Agent Smith crossed your vision, his face as stone-cold as before. He didn't even acknowledge you this time, just walked off like you were nothing more than another file to be processed. Before you could even blink, a group of people in sterile lab coats swooped in and strapped you to a cold, metal table. "Jesus fuck, this table is cold... Can I get a warmer one?" you muttered, still half in disbelief that you'd gone through with this. "Wait, no, that would be concerning..."They wheeled you down a narrow corridor, the walls lined with those cheap, semi-transparent plastic curtains that reminded you of some low-budget horror movie. It smelled faintly of chemicals and decay, and the silence was heavy, broken only by the squeaking of the table's wheels against the grimy floor. The people left as quickly as they had come, abandoning you in some kind of makeshift room. And then, the curtains rustled, and in walked a man. He wasn't particularly tall, but tall enough to notice, his buzzcut giving him an air of military efficiency. His face was sharp, his eyes cold, and when he spoke, his heavy British accent cut through the stillness like a blade. "Welcome to Organization X," he began, his tone almost bored. "My name is Ajax. I will be experimenting on you. "You couldn't help the sarcastic snort that escaped you. This guy sounded like he was reading from a script, like he'd done this a thousand times and didn't care if you lived or died. It was almost laughable. He continued his little speech with a clinical detachment that sent a shiver down your spine. "You're going to go through a series of tests..."Then he produced a syringe filled with some kind of bright orange fluid and, without hesitation, injected it into your arm. The liquid burned as it entered your veins, but you gritted your teeth through the discomfort. "That," Ajax said, watching the needle with disinterest, "is a serum that will awaken your mutant gene. To fully activate it, you'll need to undergo heavy stress and pain. Don't worry...you'll hopefully survive. "You rolled your eyes. You'd faced death so many times before that fear had become a dull background noise in your life. "Is Ajax your real name?" you quipped, the sarcasm dripping from your words. "Sounds like a fucking toddler came up with it while trying to make a supervillain name. And just went with it. "His expression barely shifted, but you caught the flicker of something resembling irritation behind his cold smile. He didn't respond, just gave you a cold, dismissive look before turning on his heel and leaving you alone, strapped to the table with the orange serum now coursing through your bloodstream. And as the minutes passed, you could feel it—something awakening inside you, something dark and powerful. Whatever this was, whatever this experiment would turn you into, you couldn't deny the thrill that curled in your chest. Maybe this was the answer you'd been waiting for all along.

Weeks passed, each day blurring into the next as you endured the relentless torture Ajax and his team inflicted on you. They pushed your body beyond its limits, putting you through electric shocks, freezing baths, scalding heat tanks, and even suffocation. The pain was constant, and your body bore the marks of their cruelty—bruises covering every inch of your skin, muscles aching, and your mind teetering on the edge of exhaustion. Most of the time, all you could hear was your own screaming echoing in your ears. But in the midst of all the horror, you found something unexpected: a connection.His name was Wade Wilson, and like you, he was trapped in this hellish place. His "room" was right next to yours, separated only by a thin wall and plastic curtains that barely muffled the sounds of suffering. Wade was a mercenary too, and over time, you both started talking after the torture sessions, finding comfort in the shared misery. You swapped stories about your pasts, the blood-soaked contracts, the scars you carried both inside and out. And even though you were both battered and broken, there was something about Wade's constant sarcasm and playful humor that made everything feel just a little bit more bearable.You were strapped to the table again, having just been electrocuted by Ajax, the sharp stinging pain still fresh in your nerves, when Wade's voice broke through the silence. His usual sarcastic tone was clear, trying to cut through the misery. "Hey, Sweetcheeks," he called out from his side of the wall. "If you could have anything on your bucket list happen...what would it be?"You were so exhausted that answering felt like a monumental task, but you managed to respond anyway. "Well... I'd probably want to get a pet," you said, your voice hoarse from screaming. "It doesn't sound amazing, but I always thought having a pet would be nice... you know, seeing as I don't have any friends."Wade gasped dramatically, feigning offense. "Am I not your friend? That hurts, babe, really."A tired smile tugged at the corners of your lips. Even in this place, he managed to make you laugh. "You're a friend... though I don't even know what you look like."There was a brief silence, and you wondered if you'd said something wrong. But then Wade's voice came back, softer this time. "Maybe one day... if we get out of here, I'll show you. Also, for the record... your voice is fucking hot. So I'm just hoping it fits what you look like."You chuckled quietly, feeling that strange warmth Wade always managed to stir in you despite the misery of your surroundings. After that, you both fell silent, each of you resting, gathering what little strength you had left for whatever fresh horrors the next day would bring. But even in the silence, you knew you weren't alone. Wade was there, and somehow, that made all the difference.

(A/n, boom, chapter 2 finished....i dont have much to say soooo, love ya buds, see you soon)

:)