Chapter 3
Y/n's eyes fluttered open, and the world around her slowly came into focus, but it was all wrong, terribly wrong. She was lying on a cold, hard surface, her body aching and her mind foggy. The first thing she noticed was the harsh, sterile smell that filled her nostrils, a nauseating mix of antiseptic and something far more unpleasant, like rotting meat left out in the sun. Her head throbbed, and she winced as she tried to move, only to find herself restrained.
Panic began to set in as she realized she was strapped to a surgeon's table, thick metal cuffs binding her wrists and ankles. The room around her was dimly lit, the only source of light coming from a single flickering bulb hanging overhead, casting strange shadows that danced along the walls. The walls themselves were concrete, cracked and stained, with streaks of what looked like dried blood smeared across them. It was a place devoid of life, warmth, or hope- a place where suffering was the only certainty.
She tried to turn her head, but the movement sent a wave of dizziness crashing over her, and she groaned softly. The room seemed to spin, the lights and shadows blurring together in a sickening whirlpool. Her heart pounded in her chest, her breaths coming in short, ragged gasps as she struggled to remember how she would ended up here. The last thing she recalled was running...running away from Wade...from the silence that had shattered her heart. The intensely chest pain. And then...the truck. The impact. And then...nothing.
As her vision cleared, she became aware of a presence in the room with her. From the far corner, just beyond the reach of the flickering light, a figure stepped forward, the sound of heavy boots echoing ominously on the concrete floor. The figure was a woman, her face partially obscured by dark aura, but Y/n could see the glint of cruel, calculating eyes staring down at her.
"Huh, you're finally up?" the woman said, her voice cold and indifferent, as if Y/n's suffering was nothing more than a mild inconvenience. There was no warmth, no compassion- only a chilling detachment that sent a shiver down Y/n's spine.
The woman did not wait for a response. She turned and walked out of the room, her footsteps receding into the distance. Y/n's heart raced as she strained against her restraints, but they held firm, the metal biting painfully into her skin. She was trapped, helpless, with no idea what was going to happen next.
A few moments later, the woman returned, but she was not alone. She was followed by a man who immediately commanded the room's attention. He wore a pristine surgeon's coat, the stark white fabric almost glowing in the dim light. His face was gaunt, his skin pale and sickly, and a small, rounded scar ran painted his forehead, a jagged reminder of some past violence. His eyes were dark, filled with a mix of hatred and sadistic glee as they settled on Y/n.
"Finally," the man said, his voice a low, gravelly rumble that sent chills down her spine. "Getting my hands on the other girlfriend of the infamous Wade Wilson. You know, it wasn't easy tracking you down, living in the shadows, making sure no one noticed. But here we are, and I have a new toy to play with."
Y/n's confusion gave way to a burning anger. "Get me the fuck off this bed," she snarled, her voice trembling with a mix of fear and fury.
The man's lips curled into a twisted smile, but there was no warmth in it- only cold, unfeeling malice. "You know," he continued, his tone mocking, "I don't like getting my hands dirty with a woman. But she—" he nodded toward the woman who stood silently by his side, "—she enjoys it."
Before Y/n could react, the woman stepped forward and delivered a brutal punch to her face. The impact was like a sledgehammer, sending her head snapping to the side, and pain exploded across her cheek, radiating down to her jaw. She tasted blood, the metallic taste filling her mouth as it dripped from her split lip. She spat it out, the crimson drops splattering on the floor beside the table.
"Ew, disgusting," the man sneered, looking down at his coat with a disdainful expression. "Don't overdo it next time. Her blood almost got on my coat."
Y/n's vision swam, her head pounding from the blow. The room seemed to spin around her, the edges of her sight darkening as she struggled to stay conscious. The dizziness was overwhelming, but she fought against it, her anger fueling her will to survive. She pulled against the restraints, her muscles straining as she tried to break free, but the cuffs held firm, cutting into her wrists.
The man ignored her struggles, continuing as if nothing had happened. "It wasn't easy monitoring your body and getting you here without raising suspicion. Our members didn't do their job properly when they replaced your body at the morgue. But who the fuck knows, right?"
Y/n's mind was a whirlwind of fear, anger, and confusion. She could barely process what he was saying, her thoughts scattered by the pain and disorientation. But one thing was clear: she was in serious trouble, and these people had no intention of letting her go.
"Fuck off," she spat, her voice hoarse but defiant. "I'm going to fucking rip your eyeballs out of your face and stuff them down your throat."
The man's twisted smile widened, his eyes narrowing with sadistic pleasure. "That'll do," he said calmly, as if her threats were nothing more than idle chatter.
Y/n's confusion deepened, her mind struggling to make sense of his words. But before she could react, pain erupted through her body, a searing, all-consuming agony that made her scream. It was as if her veins had turned to fire, the pain spreading from her core to every nerve ending in her body. Her muscles seized, her body twitching uncontrollably as electricity surged through her, the current burning her from the inside out.
The pain was unlike anything she had ever experienced, a relentless, unbearable torment that consumed her completely. She could feel her consciousness slipping, the world around her fading as the pain dragged her down into darkness. But it would not let her go. It held her there, on the edge of oblivion, her mind going insane between the waking world and the merciful release of unconsciousness.
As the electricity coursed through her, Y/n's hearing began to fade, replaced by a high-pitched ringing that grew louder and louder until it drowned out everything else. The man's voice became a distant echo, his words distorted and garbled, lost in the cacophony of sound and pain.
"It just continues to get funnier and more interesting to see your loose face and cursing me out. Haven't seen you do that for a long time. We kept an eye on Wade's close ones for my plan," the man continued, though his words barely registered in Y/n's pain-devastated mind. "We even got samples of your blood. When analyzing your DNA, we discovered something interesting: We actually discovered that you have mutant genes that were deactivated the whole time by an oppressor. We kept the blood sample in track with our systems and waited for the moment. In order for your mutant genes to be activated, the oppressor needs to detach itself from the gene in order for it to be read and, therefore, activated. Your body, desperate to survive, activated those dormant genes, probably by an inhumane amount of cortisol, trauma and adrenalin. It all triggered something in you, and voilà: you became a living curse. You were lucky that your little outburster activated the genes before you were sandwiched by the truck. Fucking awesome."
As Y/n lay chained to the surgical bed, her mind raced with confusion and fear. He loomed over her, his eyes gleaming with a twisted mix of triumph and malice. He seemed to savor the moment, taking his time before finally breaking the silence.
"You probably think you're some sort of miracle, don't you?" he began, his voice dripping with contempt. "Some kind of invincible freak, just like your boyfriend, Wade Wilson."
Y/n glared at him, anger flickering in her eyes despite the pain. "What the hell are you talking about?" she spat, though her voice wavered with uncertainty.
The unknown man chuckled darkly, shaking his head. "You really don't know, do you? Well, allow me to enlighten you."
He leaned in closer, his face inches from hers, the stench of disinfectant and blood clinging to him. "You're not special. You're just a parasite. Your so called 'powers'- they're nothing but a sick twist of fate."
Y/n frowned, trying to make sense of his words. "Parasite? What the fuck does that mean?"
"It means," he hissed, his tone laced with venom, "that every time you heal, every time your body repairs itself from the brink of death, someone else takes your place. The pain, the injury, the death—they're all transferred to some poor bastard unlucky enough to be near you."
Y/n's breath caught in her throat, the weight of his words crushing her. "No... that can't be true..."
He began to pace around the room, his movements deliberate and menacing. "But you're not like Deadpool. He heals on his own, no strings attached. You, on the other hand... every time you survive, someone else pays the price. That night, when you should have died under that truck, someone else did instead. You killed them, whether you meant to or not."
Y/n shook her head, refusing to believe it. "You're lying. This is just some sick game you're playing."
The man's eyes hardened, his expression turning cold. "I don't play games, sweetheart. I deal in reality. You think that pain you felt earlier was just a heart attack? No, it was your body trying to reconcile what it had done—what you had done. You're a walking time bomb, a freak show that drags others down with you."
He stopped in front of her again, his gaze boring into hers. "And here, in my little slice of hell, I'm going to make sure that your hands get even dirtier. Your boyfriend already destroyed one of my labs, but now I have something even better- leverage. You."
Y/n's stomach turned as the full horror of her situation sank in. Her abilities were not a gift- they were a curse, one that condemned others to suffer in her place.
"You're lying," she whispered, her voice trembling with fear and anger. "I would never hurt anyone..."
"But you already have," he said, a cruel smile twisting his lips. "And you will again. Because every time I push you to the edge, every time I make you scream in pain, someone else is going to feel it too. You'll kill them, just like you did that night."
Y/n's vision blurred with tears as she struggled against the chains, desperate to escape the nightmare she was trapped in.
"You're sick. You're fucking sick!"
"Maybe," the man shrugged, unbothered by her outburst. "But you? You're something far worse. A monster who doesn't even know it yet. But don't worry," he added with a sadistic grin, "by the time I'm done with you, you'll understand exactly what you are."
He picked up a surgical tool, the cold metal glinting in the dim light as he held it up to her face. "And we're going to have so much fun finding out just how much you can take before you break."
As he moved closer, the room seemed to close in on her, the reality of her situation crashing down with unbearable weight. Y/n could only hope for a quick end, though deep down, she knew that the unknown man had no intention of letting her off that easily.
Y/n could barely hear him over the ringing in her ears, the sound so intense it felt like her skull was about to split open. Her vision blurred, the world around her reduced to a haze of shadows and flickering light. The pain was all-consuming, relentless, and she could feel herself slipping further away, her thoughts scattering like leaves in the wind.
The man stepped closer, his face looming over hers as he held up a series of twisted, gleaming instruments. They glinted ominously in the dim light, their sharp edges reflecting the flickering bulb overhead. His grin widened, a sadistic gleam in his eyes as he looked down at her, relishing in her torment.
"Your boyfriend, Wade Wilson, was in this same room once... but instead of serving me as a slave, he decided to leave and blew the fuck off my laboratory and all my researches, as well as shooting me right between the eyes!", he said, his voice filled with hatred. "But this time, you're the one who'll be paying the price for his sins."
Y/n's heart pounded in her chest, fear gripping her as she stared up at him. She wanted to scream, to fight, to do anything to escape this nightmare. But she was trapped, helpless, and the darkness was closing in fast.
All she could do was pray for a quick death.
If death was even possible anymore.
But deep down, she knew that this was only the beginning of the torment that awaited her. The man's twisted grin was the last thing she saw before the darkness swallowed her.
As Y/n's vision blurred and the darkness crept closer, she strained to focus on anything that could anchor her to reality. Her gaze landed on the man's pristine white coat, the only thing untouched by the surrounding filth and decay. Amid the chaos, her eyes caught a detail- one that sent a cold shiver down her spine.
Embroidered in neat, black letters over his chest pocket was a name: "Francis."
The word echoed in her mind, a twisted familiarity clawing at the edges of her memory. She tried to make sense of it, but the pain, the fear, and the overwhelming fatigue clouded her thoughts.
"Francis..." she mumbled weakly, her voice barely more than a whisper as her lips struggled to form the word.
Her eyelids grew heavy, the effort to keep them open becoming too much. The world around her faded, the edges of her vision darkening until only the name remained, etched in her mind like a cruel joke.
And then, just as her consciousness slipped away entirely, the darkness finally claimed her.