Deadpool leaned back in a battered chair in the Ukrainian command post somewhere outside Zaporizhzhia, feet kicked up on an old wooden table, his eyes glued to his phone screen. The makeshift headquarters hummed with activity around him—officers barking orders, maps full of moving red dots marking Russian advances, coffee cups clinking—but Wade Wilson was in his own digital rabbit hole.
"Come on, come on, load, you piece of junk," he muttered, impatiently waiting for the Twitter app to refresh. When it finally did, his timeline exploded with videos and posts from the battle near Kyiv.
He grinned under his mask.
"#WesternMercenaryOnTheLoose," Wade read aloud, scrolling past a dozen videos featuring him tearing through the Russian convoy. The day might have been won, the 60-kilometer-long conga line of doom obliterated, but in the world of social media warfare, he was just getting started.
His grin widened. "Hell yeah, trending again!"
As the videos played on loop, Wade clicked open one of his recent favorites. The clip showed him somersaulting over a tank and expertly tossing a grenade into its open hatch. The resulting explosion was glorious—a fiery inferno consuming the vehicle. Someone had edited it to the tune of the "Boom Boom Pow."
"Pure art," he mumbled, wiping a non-existent tear from the corner of his eye. "But you know what? Next time, Bad Guy . Picture it: Russians all puffed up, thinking they're 'tough guys,' and then—duh. Boom, dead. Boom, deader. Cue the chorus, roll credits."
The footage was shaky, clearly filmed by a Ukrainian civilian who probably thought the guy in red and black spandex hurling grenades was a figment of their imagination.
There was only one problem—it was supposed to be a low-profile op-sneak in, destroy a few pieces of hardware, and vanish into the shadows like some sort of demented ninja. Instead, it turned into a viral sensation.
"Goddamn civilians and their smartphones," he muttered, faking just enough annoyance to make it sound convincing.
A soldier nearby gave him a side-eye, clearly not understanding English, but catching the general vibe of irritation. Deadpool waved him off with a smirk barely hidden under his mask.
"Relax, Ihor. Just ranting about how absolutely fabulous I look in 4K," he quipped, glancing back at the screen, secretly loving every second of it.
As the engagement racked up likes, retweets, and responses, Deadpool's phone vibrated violently.
Incoming call: Fury.
Deadpool rolled his eyes, already knowing how this conversation was going to go. He tapped the answer button, leaning back in his chair and balancing the phone between his shoulder and cheek.
"Fuuuury, buddy! What's crackin'?" Wade sang into the phone.
"Wilson, you idiot, what part of 'laying low' did you not understand?" Fury's voice came through like a storm brewing on the other end of the line.
Deadpool laughed, watching another video of himself blowing up a Russian APC. The caption? Confirmed: Deadpool-CIA creation, Langley-backed mercenary destabilizing the region. American special ops in Ukraine! #NATO #CIA
Yes, you caught me. I'm a CIA asset-'Chimichanga Intelligence Agency,' specializing in high-stakes missions like 'steal all the vodka' and 'give Putin a wedgie'.
Before responding to Fury, Deadpool quickly fired off a reply to the tweet: "You pronounced this nonsense. Not me."
Then he returned to Nick, who was now making some strange sounds through the phone, like a low-key screaming into a pillow.
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Collateral Damage (DeadpoolxOC)
FanfictionCalling Wade Wilson's love life a series of failures would be putting it lightly. When he meets HER in a dingy bar, he gets a spark of hope for love-or at least a sexual outlet-and, surprisingly, it actually works out. Soon, though, it's clear they...
