Chapter Five (Or Whatever)

Wade bit into the last of the hamburgers with gusto, forcing it down his throat with a large swallow of melted smoothies. The tiny television set in the kitchen unit tittered quietly at him, displaying the local news. The rest of the lights in the cab had been put out, leaving him in the fluctuating colors of the television screen.

His companion slept quietly in the bed. He wanted to be in there with her, but he had tried it once and was beaten with an alarm clock for his efforts. She liked it when she knew where he was – when she could see or hear him, which was most of the time – but she didn't like to be touched. He accepted that was just the way things were going to be for a while, at least until she came to terms with the fact that he didn't intend to violently murder her, and settled himself into the bench seat of the main cab with a tiny pillow and worn out blanket.

They would reach state lines in the morning. A whole week, maybe two, were ahead of them after that. He'd get her to L.A. And leave her with Weasel or Blind Al, then come back by plane to take care of the loose ends. Weasel was a coward but that was just as well – it meant he'd do a better job protecting her, if he was afraid for his life. After the incident with the Frito, Weasel tended to just listen to whatever Wade had to say.

She snored suddenly from the bedroom, snorting and grunting angrily before falling back into a quietly sleep. She didn't sleep soundly much now that her healing factor was catching up to the last of the damage, and she woke up several times in the night, frantically searching for imaginary attackers. The only way to get to her was through the main door of the RV, and as long as Wade made sure she knew he was between it and her, she could usually get an hour or two at a time.

He didn't have to be nice to her. With other people, he would have gotten fed up – or forgot what he was doing – a long time ago. He knew she wanted to trust him, so he muddled through in the hopes that he'd be rewarded in the end. When things settled and the people who hurt her were dead, he was reasonably sure his kindness would be rewarded.

Preferably with her breasts.

Oh, breasts. I miss breasts.

You know what I miss?

He leaned back with his feet on the tiny table, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. The skin was as uneven as he remembered, and with a start, he realized that she had seen his face from the lips down. She probably didn't remember, though – her recollection of anything before stabbing him with his own sword in the fast food parking lot was hazy at best.

I still can't believe she thought we were one of the bad guys.

I still can't believe it's not butter!

Really? That's the best joke you had for that.

It's 1:40 in the morning. What do you want from me?

I want you to shut up. And I want the author to stop procrastinating and get on with the fucking story. Quit using us to fill space!

What?

He grunted and turned off the television. She stirred in the other room, making quiet noises of discontent until she was sure she wasn't in danger and settled back into a deeper sleep.

And would you give her a damn name already? How confusing will this story get when there's more than one woman in the scene?

What are you talking about?

"I'll ask her in the morning." Wade mumbled, trying to get comfortable in his makeshift bed. He flipped from one side to the other several times, eventually finding the ever elusive spot of perfect comfort.

He woke with a start what couldn't have been more than an hour later. She was screaming bloody murder outside the RV.

"Shit!"

Damn it!

Crap!

He barreled outside, ready to bring hell down on whoever thought it was a smart idea to kidnap his companion. There were four men. The two who made the mistake of touching her appeared to be in severe pain, groaning and whimpering pathetically. They still tried to hold on to her arms, but had collapsed to their knees in agony. Presumably, this was her weird "gut burning" ability at a better strength. The other two looked like they couldn't decide whether they wanted to shoot her or not.

None of them were particularly bright looking – hired muscle, most likely. Men like them wouldn't chase someone as far as they had of their own volition, which meant someone else was paying them good money to hunt down the already abused woman.

"Stay back!" One ordered, producing a large handgun from his waistband.

Right. Like that's going to happen.

Let's get 'em! And make it look good! Maybe if Dove sees us doing some cool hero shit, she'll kiss us!

Dove?

Yeah, because she reminds me of that one movie, where-

No time!

The two men had found their courage and opened fire. Dove hit the ground, curling up with her knees in her face and her hands over her head. He drew his sword and charged ad bullets sank into his flesh, stinging as they buried themselves in his body. He dropped the first one with ease, his sword tearing through his rib cage like a knife through warm butter. He kicked the gun out of the second one's hands before knocking him to the ground with his shoulder.

"Don't...fuck...with...my...girlfriend!"

Each word was punctuated by a vicious stomp to the head. On the last one, the man's neck gave a harsh "crack", and he knew the man wouldn't be getting up.

"Are you okay, baby?"

The two others who had her weren't moving. A cursory glance told him they weren't breathing. Dove was still in a little ball, protecting herself. He crouched down and touched her shoulder. She jumped, throwing a fist at him. He easily ducked under it and reached out again.

This time, she recognized him and let him pull her to her feet. She remained strong for a second, then immediately began to fall apart. She started keening and sobbing, collapsing so quickly he almost didn't have time to catch her. He held her for a moment, then began to shift her until he could move her back into the RV.

"Stay here, baby." He ordered quietly, easing her onto the bed. "I'll be right outside. Gotta get rid of those guys, okay?"

He poked through the bodies quickly, long enough to look for a cellphone or beeper. Hired thugs weren't just given free reign. There was nothing on them, but in their – rather nice – car, he found a phone. He hit the speed dial to see who answered.

"Is it done?"

The voice was that of a man. He couldn't tell anything about him, except that it was probably one of the men from the neighborhood where he found her.

"No. See, you're gonna need someone way tougher if you want to get to her now."

"Who are you?" The man snapped.

"Deadpool, the Merc with a Mouth. And if you want her, you're gonna have to get through me." He replied, twirling his sword in one hand. "If I don't get to you first."

$#$#$#$#$#$#

Worth the wait? Yes? No? I promise we'll get to the juicy bits soon enough, Miko Hayashi, and everyone else waiting for some kink.