Collateral Damage (DeadpoolxOC)

XVI - Coiled Intentions

Wade lay sprawled out on the couch, one hand shoved halfway down his pants—because let's face it, old habits die hard—and the other lazily scrolling through his secure laptop. The afterglow of last night's "I love you" bomb still hung in the air. Maybe something could speed up Kate's love confession. 

Wade's mind flicked back to that moment again. "I love you," he'd said, and instead of fireworks, he'd gotten the emotional equivalent of a shrug. Not that he was expecting a love sonnet or anything, but come on, a "Thanks, babe", would've been nice.

Could avenging Mark be the key? Sure, she wanted to do it together. But if he did it alone... maybe she'd appreciate the gesture? He wanted it to be a surprise—like, "Hey babe, guess what? I avenged Mark and cleared our slate with a side of violent justice. Wanna celebrate with some tacos?"—kind of surprise.

Worst-case scenario, she'd be pissed for a bit. But Wade could handle pissed. And with her birthday coming up soon, it was the perfect opportunity to wrap this blood-soaked bundle of closure with a bow. Something along the lines of Hannibal Lecter and Clarice Starling's twisted 'gift' in Hannibal. 

Except Wade wasn't offering Kate someone's brain—just the satisfaction of knowing a few treasonous bastards had met their end, all in her honor. It wasn't like there was going to be a better moment for this.

Nothing indicated that the mercs hired to take him out were showing up anytime soon. That bought him a window—a sweet, quiet window for a quick vengeance trip. Fast action, in and out, no room for second thoughts. Mark's killers wouldn't see it coming. It was the perfect moment to settle the score.

Yeah, it was time to hunt down the old bastards who had a hand in screwing everything up. Because nothing says "I'm ready to be a responsible parent" like avenging your buddy's death, right? Wade Wilson, future father and part-time revenger.

Wade wasn't stupid—well, not completely stupid. He knew he couldn't just take off without making sure Kate was covered. Someone had to keep an eye on her, and he already had the perfect candidate in mind. 

It'd cost him, no doubt, since this guy wasn't in his debt anymore. But that's what his stash in the Caymans was for, right? A little "insurance policy" for when shit inevitably hit the fan.

"Alright," he muttered, cracking his knuckles. "Let's get this revenge party started."

Step one: Check the secure database, see if any of those ops details—dates, coordinates, the location of that clusterfuck in Syria—would lead to something useful. If they did, Wade was going to find those responsible, and when he did—well, let's just say it wouldn't be pretty. 

His fingers danced across the keys. Military database, operation logs, coordinates locked.

Come on, come on. Give me something juicy.

Every search came back with the same annoying message: ACCESS DENIED. 

Apparently, even knowing Nick Fury's password wasn't enough this time. They'd upgraded to some ridiculous two-step, one-fingerprint verification nonsense. Wade groaned. 

Top secret clause? Seriously? What do I gotta do to get in—swear allegiance to the Illuminati? 

He gritted his teeth, but before he could throw the laptop across the room in frustration, his phone buzzed. Weasel. Good ol' Weasel, always coming through with the shady intel. Wade flipped open the message:

Scott Adsit. Got his new number. Try not to piss him off this time.

Wade smirked. Oh, he was definitely going to piss Adsit off. That was half the fun. Time to call the poor bastard and see what he knew about the old-timers who pulled the strings in Syria. Wade grinned at the thought of Adsit's reaction. The guy had changed his number for a reason, and Wade loved being that reason.