When One Story Should End, Another Begins

Chapter 6: Several Bad Choices May Have Been Made

(small reminder, this depiction of Wade alters a bit from many in the fact that here, Wade still feels the full pain of his injuries. He still heals and can survive nearly anything, but in this depiction, he can still feel the pain, however briefly until he inevitably heals.)

Many people, for understandable reasons, tend to avoid the news. Usually monopolized by horrid things, it is certainly a downer, and you were guilty of avoiding it as well. That is, until you saw today's headline- or rather, the video that accompanied it.

There had been a shooting at a street downtown, one that most of the city had already heard of. What caught your eye, though, was the video displayed, one showing an apparent gunfight between a man wearing almost all black and someone who looked to be wearing the suit Wade bore the night you met him. Your fear was confirmed when the video showed the first stranger shooting the masked man through the heart, a wound that somehow did not stop him. Rather, he quickly drew a gun from the holster on his thigh and fired three bullets straight through the other gunman's chest. As the man crippled to the ground, the suited figure swiftly fled the scene.

It had to be Wade. You knew it the moment you saw the video. The suit was identical to the one you'd seen him in before, and he's the only person you knew of who could survive a gunshot to the heart and run away like it was nothing. Your hands shook uncontrollably as you set down your phone in shock, both out of fear for  Wade and fear of  Wade. You felt like an idiot for not prying more about what his occupation was; you'd gotten so close and so attached as to let this madman kiss you! Still, you knew Wade enough to know there had to be more to the story. The man you saw in the news video and the man that saved your life on the rooftop several weeks ago were not the same person.

You needed to see him. Seeking him out went against most all logic- he was broadcast on television as a homicidal maniac, who in their right mind would willingly find him? But you knew Wade- at least, you liked to think you did. He risked his life to help you, shouldn't you do the same for him?

Thoughts clouded your logic and, in what was most likely an awful decision, you chose to go look for Wade at his apartment.

You thew on the first things you could find, which happened to be a pair of leggings and a  sweater, both of which were far too thin for this chilly weather but that was hardly a priority right now. You pulled on your thickest boots for at least a little protection against the elements and you raced out of your apartment and down to the street.

You could still hear police sirens in the distance- not that they were uncommon in a large city such as your own, but there seemed to be several different sirens, all coming from the direction of the street where the shooting took place. It was a little ways away from where you now stood, and the volume of the sounds served to show the magnitude of the disturbance.

You tried not to make any assumptions or let your worries overcome you, at least not until you talked to your friend. As much as you desperately hoped he had a good reason for killing a civilian, you feared the worst. And again, you knew looking for him was about as stupid of an idea as you could possibly have right now; that said, as someone who had actively tried to kill themself in the recent past, death somehow wasn't as scary as it should be to you.

Neither was Wade.

You made what should've been a 15-minute walk a 5-minute jog and before you knew it, you were at his apartment building. Once again, your hands were shaking with nerves. You had no idea what would happen when you confronted him. Maybe he wasn't home. Maybe he'd kill you, just like he did the other man. Maybe it wasn't even him to begin with- doubtful, but you wanted to hope. You practiced deep breathing techniques as you made your way inside and up the elevator to his apartment. Once you reached his door, you tentatively knocked.