Tortured Genius (A Marvel Fanfiction: Reader Insert)

Chapter 16: Hey Kids, Want To See A Magic Trick?

Disbelief blazed to life on your face like a newly struck match.

You choked on your drink, spitting.

"What in the name of-"

You were interrupted as a crash sounded on your left. Splinters of wood flew into your vision and you groaned as you ducked and saw people rising from the rubble. Dark, probably mean people. No, definitely mean people. And they definitely, most definitely, weren't about to leave you alone. "Can't you clean up your own messes, man?" You asked, frowning. "All I wanted was a drink." Deadpool pulled out one of his guns, promptly shot down three of the pursuers and faced you, feigning shock. "Come on, (your name), don't you have a shucking brain? I always bring along my messes."

. . . He did have a point. But you weren't about to admit it to him here and now.

"Listen here you little-" Once again, you were cut off as bullets flew by your head; you tossed some ice that direction and someone screamed. Throwing up you hands in frustration, you narrowed your eyes. "Fine! I'll help! Thanks for asking how I've been."

Your 'friend', if you could even call Deadpool your friend, raised an eyebrow. More figures rushed out of the dust; you shot one in the head with ice and the fifth crumbled with a well-placed bullet to the chest. "Oh, it's been that bad, huh? Well, screw you too. There's work to be done, you son of biscuit, and so: no surprise! This is different kind of day."

You sighed.

Both of you went to work, freezing, shooting, slicing and swearing. It didn't take long to defeat most of the attackers since they were normal enough, but even with your new-found power, strength and agility, you found yourself drained. Your body, it seemed, simply wasn't ready for the strain that you required of it. A second groan escaped your mouth through gritted teeth and you tossed Wade a glance. Thanks for dragging me into this, your glance said. He missed it, however, and shot someone in the stomach. They collapsed, moving no more.

And that was it. Over in a matter of minutes.

You took a very deep breath. It was all coming in a rush, now. Frowning, you closed your eyes. "I am done with your bullshit." Another breath. "Just done with your bullshit." Silence. You held up a finger. "Your bullshit--" Deadpool snickered, hopping onto a bar chair he'd righted while you ranted, "--done with it."

"That's all nice and fricking well, Ice Box. You done?" Deadpool's legs swung back and forth as he looked down the barrel of his gun for-who-knows-what and he glanced up at you, his expression rather blank. Though, all things considered, he was wearing a mask.

Surveying the wreckage of the bar, you sighed again. There wasn't much you could do now to tidy the place up; it was practically a dump. (And in the back of your mind you thought about leaving a note to the poor owner, but you dismissed it.) The piano had been frozen and crashed into smithereens, broken glass littered the tiles and seven to ten wounded or dead bodies lay across the floor. Destruction really was your middle name, wasn't it? Yeah, that about sums it up.

"Yes." You rubbed your eyes, wishing for sleep. Some deep, restful, restoring sleep would be so very cherished if you ever did manage to get your hands on it. "Yes. I'm done."

According to your friendly neighborhood Deadpool, Hydra had gotten wind of every connection you'd had in the previous years. That meant your connections and chances of staying in this complicated chess game had become nil to zero. This of course caused many attacks to those resources, one being Deadpool, and the result was a bloodbath. To Deadpool or to the attackers, you never really figured out. Then again, you weren't sure you cared. At this point, survivors were rare and so were your connections. You were indeed done with his bullcrap, but the reality was you needed his help.