The Exception---SpideyPool

Mission Impossible

Peter made his rounds as usual and ended up saving a dog from drowning at the docks. Not his most dangerous rescue but still just as important.

He threw himself into his small apartment window and pulled his mask off. He was exhausted from getting little to no sleep in the past weeks. Not even mentioning looking over his shoulder every few minutes. Peter had been followed several times and attacked in and out of his suit. Luckily his paranoia had saved him most of the time. He was getting more and more bruises and had definitely fractured something. He needed sleep. He needed a lot of things he simply couldn't afford right now. Especially with the mysterious characters following him everywhere. He wouldn't be surprised if they were watching him now.

Peter shook his head. He had to find Deadpool. But every lead was a dead end. Irony at its worst. He had one more lead to follow. A man who Peter had caught stealing had given him the name of a bar somewhere in the ghettos. When he had looked it up, he could tell the place was sketchy.

What other option did he have?

He knew he wouldn't get any sleep if he tried, so he decided to go ahead and check it out tonight. He reluctantly stood up from the chair and grabbed his mask. With a big yawn, he threw on some clothes over top his suit and slid on the mask, moving sluggishly out onto the window seal, grabbing a light jacket on the way. He took a moment to sigh before leaping towards a building, making his way to the bar.

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His feet hit the ground heavily. He slid on the grey coat and looked for the bar on foot. He saw the sign peeking out of an alley way and made his way to the entrance. A big burly man watched as he approached and looked him up and down, noticing the mask.

Peter stopped and stood square in front of him.

"I ain't seen you round here before. You a merc or a client?" The man said with a suspicious gaze. Peter thought a moment before answering.

"I'm a- a client. Yes. A client," the man seemed aware of the ruse but didn't say anything as he opened the door.

"Don't make a mess." The command confused Peter but he entered anyway.

The entrance was dark and smelled of blood and puke mixed with lots of alcohol. And he thought the club smelled bad. He emerged from the hall to a room full of intimidating men drinking around tables. A few eyes found Peter but he walked swiftly to the bar, ignoring the horrible feeling this place gave him.

He looked to the ginger bar tender and leaned on the counter.

"You're new. What can I get you?" He said in a nasally voice, matching his appearance. The glasses and longer hair spoke of druggy and his tone of sarcastic energy.

"I'm looking for someone. A mercenary that I was told comes here pretty often."

"That doesn't narrow anything down. Like literally at all. This place is full of the same mercs everyday," the bartender said with a dumb look and sarcastic tone that Peter expected. He rolled his eyes under the mask and sighed.

"He goes by Deadpool. Does that narrow it down?" Peter waited as the bartender took on an exasperated look.

"Dammit. I told Wade not to bring anymore loose ends into my bar. If you're here to kill him I'll leave a message but make it fast. I have better things to do that speak to Wade's assassin," he grabbed a glass and started cleaning it, his expression the same.

Peter thanked the lords he finally had a lead.

"I need to employ him in a way. Anyway I could leave a message for that?" He asked. With an 'oh' from the tender, Peter left a place and time for Deadpool to meet him to talk. Peter walked out with a small hop in his step, ready to finally put an end to this hunt.

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Wade walked out of the the building, blood dripping from almost his entire suit. Whether it was his blood or someone else's blood, he didn't know or care. His phone buzzed in his pocket for the fourth time this morning.

With a frustrated sigh, he pulled out the phone and picked up the call.

"You know, some of us do have people to kill," There was a short grumble on the other side. 

"Listen, that city super hero came into the bar asking for you. You know, Spider-man. He said he wanted to employ you. I think you may want to stop by the bar on your way back to that hell hole of an apartment you own," Weasel said. Wade smirked under his mask. He knew he'd see him again.

"Just send me the information. I have to prepare for my big date," Wade  pressed the end button before Weasel could make any smart-ass retort and started towards his Apartment. 

This was a start to something big and he could feel it in his bones.