Not A Chance

Chapter 2 - First Impressions Vol.2

Wade Wilson.

That motherfucker.

He was skipping down the street, humming Toxic by the always fabulous Britney Spears without a care in the world as if he hadn't just shot one of the greatest drug dealers in the entire city five damn times.

"One for every day of the week!" Said Yellow.

"Five bullets." And that was White.

"I mean business days."

"Oops we did it again." Wade said with a smile.

"Great reference."

"Is it my imagination or are we being watched?"

He was really looking forward to that paycheck, the guy's head was worth a good sixty thousand dollars and maybe a little more. And Wade's apartment really needed to be redecorated.

"We're sooooo spending that on cocaine."

"No we're not."

"Yes we are." Replied Wade.

"Don't you think you're being a hypocrite? Am I the only one here who thinks killing a drug dealer for money and then using said money to buy cocaine is just wrong?"

"We just shot a man in the head and you wanna talk about right and wrong?" Wade shook his head, pushing the door open and entering the bar. "Hypocrite."

"...touché."

"Weasel!" Wade screamed, taking a seat.

"Hey testicle face." Weasel greeted him while cleaning a glass cup. "Did you get the job done?"

"Of course I did! The guy's been dead for at least ten minutes now." Wade said proudly. "You always ask the same question as if I'd ever disappointed your clients."

"Vegas."

"We don't talk about that."

Wade glared at him. "I already told you I'd never been to a casino before. It was a once in a lifetime opportunity."

Weasel rolled his eyes. "Whatever. I've got another job for you."

Wade took off his mask and grimaced. "Listen, I'm flattered. But you're my friend and quite frankly I find you disgusting."

"The feeling is mutual." He set down both the cup and the cloth. "Now. Do you wanna listen to what I have to say or what?"

"Shoot, cowboy."

———

"Hey I just met you!"

"And this is crazy!"

"But here's my number!"

"Please make it stop."

"Huh, I remember the lyrics differently."

Deadpool was now waiting for his target on the rooftop of an apartment complex. Mr. Noah Richards. Successful businessman, owner of three out of five of the most expensive restaurants in New York and one of the biggest names in the black market.

"He's taking too long. I say we get some Mexican food and come back later."

"Chimichangas..." Wade whispered.

"Mouthwatering." Said white in a rather suggestive way.

The mercenary sighed, if only he could get his hands on some good food instead of waiting for that excuse of a human being to show up. He could be sitting at one of those nice tables at his favorite Mexican food restaurant "Queen's Taquitos", he was a regular so they always gave him a discount. Everyone there knew him, they learned his name after he ordered 55 chimichangas and 37 tacos during his last depressive episode.

"He's here!" Announced White.

Deadpool shook his head, time to focus.

"Let's get down to business!"

"Not the moment."

"You think they defeated the Huns with that attitude?" He aimed at the man's head as he was looking for his keys, oh this was going to be so fun. "Say hello to my little friend." But just before he could pull the trigger, his weapon was snatched away. "What gives?!" Wade turned around.

And there he was, in all his skintight Spandex glory.

"Hey! Didn't your mom tell you shooting people is rude?"

"Holy shit."

"That's-"

"Spider-Man..."