When One Story Should End, Another Begins

Chapter 2: At Least the Wrong Person Isn't Dead

If not for the massive adrenaline rush keeping you moving, you're certain you would've fainted at the sight- if not from the appearance of his mangled and blood-soaked body, then at the pure shock that he's somehow not dead. A million thoughts flooded your head in an instant. This wasn't supposed to happen, what the hell do I do now?  A small voice in your head said to climb back over the railing and jump with him and hope you would be luckier than him in that it would actually kill you. You could always leave him... run home, let him die and forget anything ever happen. This thought was only for a split second though, and you were repulsed that it even crossed your mind to begin with. Of course you couldn't leave him now, he'd just tried to save your life. Through all the thoughts swarming your mind, the one that screamed louder than all the others was how the hell could he possibly be alive? No one should survive a fall like that. 

Deciding you had no real choice, you sprinted to the fire escape on the side of the building and flung yourself down the stairs as fast as you could. You'd been planning to jump into the dark alley between buildings rather than the main road so no one would see you, so more than likely, no one saw this stranger either. Once you got to the bottom landing of the fire escape, you crouched down and jumped off the final platform to land on the cold concrete. It hurt your ankles a bit, but you felt like an idiot for noticing that when you were trying to save a man who'd fallen off a damn rooftop. Once you regained your balance and breath and stood up, you were able to make out the dark shadow of the man still flopped on the ground. You dashed over to where he, or, more likely, his corpse, now lay. His body looked even more mangled and destroyed now that you were close to him. Perhaps you'd been seeing things... maybe he didn't wave and he really was dead... 

You dropped to your knees next to him, tears returning to stream down your face. For the first time, you were thankful for his blood-red suit and mask; you didn't want to have to see how horribly he must be disfigured. You gently moved your hand to rest over his as you finally let yourself cry again. However, your sob turned into a high pitched shriek when you faintly felt his hand tense under yours.

"... Totally...called it..." you heard him manage to cough out, "...hurts like a bitch to fall from that high..." his head slouched to one side, possibly looking at you but again, the mask prohibited you from knowing for sure. You were completely speechless. Realizing you had to say something, you blurted out the first words that came to mind.

"WHAT THE EVER LOVING FUCK, DUDE?! How are you alive-" you screamed before being cut off by his hissing.

"Shhh! Don't let the whole city know!"

"Stay still, I'm calling 911," you instructed him, hands trembling as you whipped out your cell phone. You only got the first two digits of the number dialed when he suddenly slapped your phone out of your hand and threw it several feet away from the two of you.

"Trust me, that's not a good idea. I'll be okay," he groaned, clearly in pain but not nearly as much as he should be, given the circumstances (Though technically, he shouldn't even be alive).

"What the hell do you mean-"

" I can explain everything if you want, but not here. My apartment is only two blocks away, care to help me walk there?"

"You literally have to be joking- there's no way you can walk right now," You stated plainly. As you glanced back over to your phone to finish the call, the stranger suddenly sat upright with a loud groan and a cough, prompting you to immediately interject.

"I'm serious dude, just sit still, I'll get you help-" as you said this, however, the man miraculously managed to stumble to his feet, looking like he'd had way too much to drink.

"If you want to help me, kindly help me get home," He grumbled, starting to stagger out of the alleyway, a small trail of blood forming behind him. Still dumb-founded and not knowing what else to do, you collected your phone and jumped to your feet to ran over to him, throwing one of his arms over your shoulders so you could help stabilize him. As he dragged you out towards the street, passersby stared, yet shockingly, no one said anything. Barely two blocks away he stopped to open the door of his apartment building and stumbled into the lobby, quickly locating the elevator and going up to the sixth floor. He was still leaning heavily on you, though not as much as when you first started walking with him. Normally, you would absolutely never go home alone with a man you barely knew, but you felt strangely reassured by his crippled state with the knowledge that he probably couldn't hurt you right now, even if he tried. Despite the mask, his breath was laborious and hot against your ear, but still- he was much too functional for someone who'd just survived an injury that definitely should've killed him instantly. When the elevator doors opened, he brought you to his door before opening it and clumsily tumbling onto the couch in the main room of the apartment. It was a pretty nice place, raising even more questions in your mind as to who this stranger was and what he did, though now certainly wasn't the time to ask. After standing awkwardly for a moment, you moved to sit on the coffee table next to the couch and take a closer look at him and question him further.

"You've got some explaining to do. I don't care if it's not right now, but I want answers eventually. Why did you try to save me? Why were you up there anyway? How the ever-loving fuck are you even alive right now?"

"Okay, okay, I'll tell you. Just give me a second to catch my breath. Definitely broke most of my ribs..." he murmured.

"What can I do to help you?" you asked, glancing around the room to see if there was anything you could make useful.

"Nothing, really. My body just needs time to heal. Seriously, I'll be okay," he tried to assure you before being cut off by a coughing fit. Yep, definitely sounded like some fractured ribs.

"Let's at least get this... costume... off, so I can look at the injuries better," you suggested, leaning forward with your hand outstretched to his mask. His hand quickly shot up to swat yours away and he shifted further from you. He was hiding something, and at this point, you weren't sure you wanted to know what.

"No, no it's okay, you don't need to do that." For the first time since you met him, his bizarre sense of being carefree gave way to reveal anxiety. You decided it was best not to ask and changed the subject.

"Fine, but at least take off the belt and harness and leg strap things. What is all this even for anyways?"

"You really never seen a gun holster?" he asked as he sat up to remove his holsters and belt, before slipping out of the sword harness and throwing it all to the ground several feet away from him.

"Are those... swords?" You weren't really sure you wanted an answer, but your curiosity got the best of you.

"They're called katanas. And yes," he replied bluntly but still nonchalantly; the ease with which he talked about weaponry was alarming to you. Regardless, you'd gotten this far- if he wanted to kill you, he probably would've by now.

"You don't have to be here, y'know. I'll be fine," he murmured, almost as if he felt guilty that you stayed to help him.

"No, I still have a lot of questions." You didn't want to be pushy but your voice was firm.

"Can I at least buy you dinner first? Tomorrow night?" Even with his face hidden, the cloth of the mask shifted slightly into what you assume was a grin behind it. You definitely weren't one to get hit on (if that's what you could call this) often or asked out, especially by strange men. Still, you wanted your answers.

"Sure, but you better explain then. And if you don't show, I know where you live," you threatened, partially as a joke to try and lighten the mood, even though it was completely true and he knew it. He chuckled and nodded in response before grabbing a tissue from the box on the table next to you and a pen that had been stuck between the couch cushions. He scribbled his phone number on it and handed it to you.

"I'm Wade, by the way. Wade Wilson."

"Oh, uh, Y/N."

"Y/N. I like that name. Well, see you tomorrow, Y/N."

And just like that, despite your horror and confusion, you grabbed your stuff and stepped over the pile of weapons to the door before fleeing the building, an endless flurry of thought racing through your mind as you walked home.

What the hell just happened?

And what had you just gotten yourself into?