Collateral Damage (DeadpoolxOC)

XXVI - Perun Unplugged

Deadpool's arrival on the Moskva wasn't exactly subtle. He appeared with a flash and a pop, instantly drenched as the storm's fury welcomed him like an aggressive, soggy handshake. The wind was screaming, howling through the ship's metal frames, whipping him around like a loose kite string. Sure, the Ukrainians had mentioned something about a storm, but those weather maps? They were misleading, like those fast-food ads where the burger actually looks edible. Spoiler alert: it was worse than he expected. Way worse.

The deck was a nightmare—a slick, wet deathtrap where every step felt like a new opportunity to break a bone or two. Or ten. And it was practically a ghost town. No alarms, no sounds of rushing footsteps—just the crash of waves, not even distant rumble of the ship's engines. Most of the sailors were probably asleep, huddled down below, riding out the storm in their little bunks, because why would anyone sane be out here?

Each time he moved forward, the wind shoved him back. The ship pitched and rolled underfoot, sending waves crashing over the sides, soaking him again, as if the universe just wanted to make sure he was as miserable as possible. Deadpool staggered, gripping the nearest railing for dear life. "Perfect. I could be home, pants off, feet up, but nooo, I'm here, getting waterboarded by Mother Nature. Thanks, Ukraine."

He squinted through the darkness, eyes locking above the bridge onto the main mast, where the radar systems sat perched like a giant, hulking spider, bristling with antennas and sensors. At least the storm would buy him some time; even if he did something flashy, it wasn't like the Russians would instantly figure out he was there. They'd probably just blame the weather, or a stray seagull, or NATO. That last one was always a solid guess.

He shifted his focus back to the bridge area, where smaller radar systems and navigation sensors blinked quietly. It seemed deserted, just as he'd thought. But then, something metallic caught his eye—a faint blinking right next to the glass windows. "Eh, it's probably nothing," he muttered. Yet it pulsed steadily, like a tiny, mechanical heartbeat, almost hidden behind the reflection of the storm.

His gaze swept across the ship, from the towering main mast to the bridge, and then further back to the aft superstructure. "Ah, the cherry on top of this overcompensating metal sundae," he muttered.

He did a quick mental check. Main mast, bridge, aft section—three stops, three chances to slip, fall, and make a messy red stain on the deck. He cast a look at the stormy sky, grinning beneath his mask. "Climb, plant, run. And if it all goes south, at least I'll get a hell of a view."

Deadpool adjusted the charges on his belt, squinting through the downpour as he made his way toward the mast. Each step felt like walking on an oil-slicked treadmill, his boots slipping against the rain-soaked deck. Seriously, who thought it was a good idea to have a mission on a stormy night? Oh, right. Me. Genius move, Wilson. He caught himself on a metal railing, barely stopping a full faceplant onto the deck, and pushed onward, leaning into the wind.

He glanced up at the radar dishes. Something felt off. They weren't moving. "Hold up. These things are supposed to be rotating, right? Detecting stuff, making sure the ship doesn't get blown to bits?"

He smirked, wiping the rain from his mask, trying to steady himself as the ship rocked beneath him. Blind, deaf, and stuck in a storm. This is almost too easy... which means something's about to go horribly, horribly wrong.

For a split second, he thought about just walking away from the radars, heading straight to Karpov, and dealing with the rest of the crew on the way. Besides, he came all this way, might as well leave a little present. "Through storm and sleet, Wade delivers. Just call me your personal USPS package of pain," he said, pulling out small electromagnetic charges from his belt. He slapped it onto a junction box at the base of the radar array, the magnet snapping it into place.