InsaneJournal

Tweak says, "Ssshhhhun the non-believer!"

Warren Hampden, Deadpool. (mercofthemouth) wrote in musingslogs,
@ 2010-09-28 16:05:00

Entry tags:

deadpool, kaylee

Who: Deadpool and Winnie, sort of.
What: Another targeted hit, this time someone close to his last kill.
Where: Capissen 38.
When: Late on Tuesday night.
Warnings: See "Who."

He was a mercenary and a damn good one to boot.

Deadpool always took his jobs like he took his food from those cart vendors: quick money exchanged, few details mentioned and over with quickly with minor indigestion in the process.

He had no trouble shooting that funny painted guy right in the head. In fact, he got quite the little thrill out of it.

So when he was offered another job by whom he presumed to be the same person as last time, Deadpool knew he was going to take it despite initial hesitation. He hated to be biased (no matter what the other guy in his brain told him), but he happened to always be a little more hesitant about a job when it included women or children. This 'Winnie' was somewhat young, but after having done the research, he had to be content that this woman wasn't a good person.

Creeping toward the garage, Deadpool made sure no one saw him. Weapon at the ready, he smiled at himself at how easy he was going to make the next bucks, maybe enough to earn himselves a filet mignon. Oh please, you just want booze and hot pants. "Hey, what I do on my own time is none of your business," he hissed. It is when I have to watch you dance to Single Ladies for the umpteenth time! "Quiet, we're here."

Only one of the garage's windows were actually cracked open as the weather had been cooling down. Seeing movement on the inside, he stayed low underneath the windowsill, watching as the moving shadows stilled and light once again poured out. Carefully, he pushed the glass up, allowing the barrel of his gun more freedom to quickly shoot and then leave. It was simple and perfect.

But then he looked.

Winnie, though she had learned her roommate was dead had been clearly keeping a brave face in spite of it all. Though her eyes and cheeks were as red as her hair, she still moved around her workplace with purpose, putting everything back in its place. Deadpool hesitated, his finger still on the trigger as he watched her. It wasn't until she seemed to wipe away a tear that he couldn't stop the weird feeling in his throat, the shaking of his hands.

Get out. Go. "I got paid, this is my job, I can do this."

No you can't, don't bullshit me of all people. "She's a bad person."

When do people who help kill feel? Besides you. "I...look, this is easy. I can..she's not..."

Are you really going to kill a little girl? FOR CASH?

"Shut up."

I know I'm heartless, but at least I know I'm not a baby killer.

"Shut up."

Wouldn't mother and all the crazies in her head be so proud of her failure of a son who kills adorable crying girls because someone paid them to?

"Shut up shut up SHUT UP!" he snapped, standing straight up and covering his ears as though it would help.

Making up his mind right away, he aimed inside and shot at the wall well away from Winnie. He stared at her for another moment, not caring if she saw him or not before he ran off and hid on a nearby roof.

Deadpool would get the person who hired him for this job. That he was certain. No one was allowed to make him develop a conscious and get away with it.

No one.

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capissen38
2010-09-29 01:36 am UTC (link)

Winnie had left Cherrie's that morning, and she'd gone to the shop. She'd spent the night tossing and turning, nightmares of bullets and Jack's screams waking her with a start throughout the evening, despite the soft pretty couch under her cheek and the smell of something wonderful baking in the kitchen.

As soon as the sun had risen, she'd thanked Cherrie for her hospitality, and she'd gone on home for a shower and a new start. She needed to get in touch with Connolly, to tell him about the man at the options address, and she needed to get the pumps flushed and filled. With Jack gone, she was going to have to make something more of the station than she'd expected.

Come afternoon, she'd managed to lose herself in a Bentley engine that purred beneath her fingers, and the tears had started flowing in earnest as she slid beneath the car to change the old oil. She looked a mess by the time she slid out and started setting things right, face and eyes bright red, coveralls covered in grease and oil, and she hadn't even heard anyone come to the window.

When the bullet rang, she screamed a sort of panicked scream, the kind of scream that said it was the breaking point of something fragile and entirely irreplaceable inside. She looked, and in her fear she caught sight of bright red and a barrel of silver.

She ran to the window, and she saw him scale the roof watched him, and then her knees buckled and she sank to the floor. He could have killed her, she knew. Could have killed her without even hesitating, without trying. Why hadn't he? Why?

She stood again, this time on shaking feet, and she leaned against the work table. Seattle was seeming like a real terrible idea just about now.

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