ByAdnan Alnaji, writer at
deadpool is bae and daredevil

It was a cold and gloomy winter’s afternoon. The freezing wind blew leaves down the dark, desolate alley way. Wade was half asleep and laid in bed with his arms crossed on his chest, as if it was a coffin. The smell of beer and alcohol filled the room, overpowering any other odors. The leaves on the tree outside, retreated when it met that vile smell. Wade lifted has weight and got out of the old cracking bed. He wasn’t fat, but wasn’t on the slim side either. However this made him even more self-conscious about his weight. He didn’t want to be fat, but knew he wasn’t in good shape either. His bald scalp and scarred face contrasted with the slightly chubby stature he had.

As Wade examined himself in the cracked mirror, he recoiled from the dirty slob he saw before him. As he turned away, he suddenly recognized something peculiar in the corner of his eye. He then focused on the scene unfolding outside. He used his sleeve to wipe away the grime obscuring his vision on the window. An old man with a slightly hunched stature seemingly appeared out of nowhere. He headed to the wall directly across from Wade’s window, and nailed up a poster outside. The old man turned to stare at Wade directly in the eyes with a cold hard gaze before disappearing into the dark alleyway once again. Upon inspecting the poster, Wade made out a bald man pointing a 9mm pistol directly at him. Above the image was the text “Mr. Wilson Fisk is always watching” and below was a chilling message. “You’re next”…

Wade swept the sweat from his forehead as he slumped himself down on the toilet seat. As he pulled himself together he slumped into the living room and dropped onto the couch. The picture frame of his parents hung slanted on the wall with their faces which faded from time. He touched the frame to investigate and the colors looked drained. He couldn’t think straight without the normal satisfying feel of alcohol in his bloodstream, draining his issues away. As he closed the downstairs curtains a newspaper flew through the window, narrowly missing his face. It had a strange message which read:" Friday 13th the last day of your life." His sober mind couldn't concentrate or even comprehend anything at the moment. Not even picking up the paper he walked into the kitchen.

Opening the white broken fridge that struggled to keep food cold, he grabbed some cheese which had a touch of mold on the corners. The country rations may have allowed better food, but the city mafia made sure it stole all the good food. The police would be no help seeing as they were all under the mafia’s payroll. He turned on his decade old TV and laid on his long stretched out dark green couch. No one could afford a new TV anymore. Not since the world fell apart. The channel was broadcasting the same American propaganda footage that had been shown for years. Nevertheless, Wade sat and watched the same brain dead footage he had seen so many times before

Outside, the freezing wind didn't stop a group of teenagers from gathering for what seemed like a gang turf war. Wade glanced at them for a few seconds before turning back to the TV. It wasn’t uncommon for these fights. Often they got bloody. One of the teenagers shouted for weapons, baseball bats, Sledge hammers, Machetes etc. Then something that wasn’t normal happened... A dark black Mercedes with tinted out windows pulled up on the litter filled street. A Mercedes was something Wade hadn’t seen in a long time and this sparked his interest. Three bald and muscular men in full black got out of the car. All three of them pulled out submachine guns that had been concealed under their jackets. Coldly calculated they began shooting each gang member with short controlled bursts…

Wade jumped at the first gunshot. His heart began to race in a way he hadn’t felt since his days protecting the old Government. Finally he built up enough courage to look out the window once again. The teenager’s corpses lay lifeless on the street with blood dripping onto the pavement. Then finally the last car door opened and out stepped another man. He was huge and had a demeanor that made all the other men straighten their backs and look straight ahead as he walked past. After surveying his surroundings for a while he looked straight at Wade’s window.

Wade immediately ducked down. After sitting in fear for a time he ran towards the door and frantically locked it and pulled the chain across. Shivering in fear, Wade sat on his bed staring at the door. Suddenly a mighty smash echoed around the room. Soon the door was broken down and the giant figure of Mr. Fisk entered the room. Making his way straight to Wade he let out a huge smile showing his perfectly shaped, whitened teeth. Wade shook and began to plead for his life. “I give you no mercy” he said as he approached Wade.

Mr. Fisk fixed his tie, even though it was stained with blood. He then excused himself out of the room slamming the door on the way out. The now broken door swung back and forth on its bottom hinge. Wades bloody twitching hand fell off the bed, hitting the play button on his old radio. The silence of the night was only disturbed by the peaceful chorus of “Baby blue”. Wade lay motionless on the bed, blood covering his body while the remains of his eyes oozed a sticky puss down his face. As the song ended the final line sung out, “Guess I got what I deserve”…


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