Collateral Damage (DeadpoolxOC)

XXX - Operation Ghostly Recon

This is a post-Halloween Special! It doesn't impact the main storyline, so technically, you could skip it (but I hope you won't!). I've had this draft ready since August, and the time has finally come to publish it. Originally, I planned to post it on Halloween, but then the opportunity to catch Venom at the cinema after work came up. How could I say no?

I'll be taking a break now but will be back in about two weeks.

**

Wade was pretty damn sure that when Kate had given that public thumbs-up for Karpov's head joining their "esoteric triangle" with Mark, she'd been lying straight through her teeth. Not that he'd complain—she played her part like a true sidekick, backing his little shitshow.

It didn't hurt that she'd somehow maneuvered him into signing over a hefty sum for the Ukrainian medics. That sly move had blended right into his "totally-humble-hero" act, all because he'd pulled his "fake death, reverse-necrophilic-grope" stunt right in front of a crowd. She hadn't even broken a sweat—she'd made it look like she was playing along the whole time.

Since then their whole dynamic had softened, way less violence, and bedroom antics that leaned into just the right amount of kink without blowing the top off total insanity. Whatever was going on with Kate, Wade was reaping all the benefits of her new "mellowed-out" mode, with the added bonus that her inner control freak was MIA. Although he couldn't help but notice Kate was suddenly big on him wearing BDU—just his luck she didn't insist on dress uniform. Wade figured it was one of those "trauma outlet" things, given she hadn't mentioned that serum S.H.I.E.L.D. had slipped her.

And hey, no T-Ray. No Ajax lurking around to stir things up. Even Weasel had eventually shrugged it off as some kind of nonsense. And Karpov? In the end, he'd come home with them, his skull now a semi-permanent living room fixture, topped with a potted plant sprouting out like some grotesque garden.

Every glance at it made Wade itch—he'd promised a little something, after all. Wouldn't his newfound bestie Budanov be crushed if Wade didn't deliver? And let's be real—Fury's lone, judgmental eye would probably twitch with anticipation too.

Finally, Wade snapped. He couldn't hold back any longer. He figured he'd swing by Michael's, not bothering to ask Kate for the hundredth time if she was cool with it. Besides, if she was cool with their 'plant friend,' she'd roll with this adventure.

**

Wade grinned to himself, standing outside Michael Hawthorne's door. Mike was the best—hands down. Because honestly, who else could he ask to summon his buddy's ghost? Black Talon? Sure, because nothing says "stable reunion" like some voodoo chicken-worshipper who might summon Ted Bundy instead of Mark. No, Mike was made for this job.

The door creaked open, practically inviting Wade in with a wave of stale air and... something else. The room smelled like incense and stale ramen noodles. Wade gave a dramatic sniff. "Man, is that a new sage-ramen-ghost combo? Perfect for conjuring the dearly departed?"

Mike was hunched over an ancient tome, not even sparing Wade a glance or a comeback. Wade shrugged, taking the lack of reaction as a quiet green light.

He stepped further, eyes darting around the dimly lit room like he'd just stumbled into a haunted thrift shop. "Let's skip the chitchat and get to the magic, shall we? And by magic, I mean the kind that probably has a fifty-fifty chance of blowing up in our faces."

Michael, caught mid-incantation—or maybe he was just trying to ignore the fact that he'd once reanimated George Washington only for the guy to start plotting WWIII—finally looked up, visibly deflating. "Wade," he sighed. "If you're here with another brain-melting request, I swear—"