Chapter 15
Steve sits on the rooftop, a duffle bag full of money slung over his shoulder and a bag full of Mexican food in his hand. He’d texted the mercenary a cryptic inquiry and received an address, then “roof.” A few hours later, he’d gotten, “midnight. Bring mexican or no deal.” Almost immediately after, “food not person. Come alone”
“Lusting after your husband’s millions?” A jovial voice says from behind him. Steve startles, turning around. The mercenary is wearing a red and black suit, white eyes, and guns everywhere guns could plausibly be. There are katanas sheathed on his back.
“Let’s talk,” Steve says, holding up the bag.
Deadpool brings his hands to his cheeks and squeals. “My favorite! Keep using that sexy baritone, handsome, and I’ll listen all day.”
Steve feels his cheeks flame and he clears his throat. Deadpool sits cross-legged on the roof and he joins him after a moment. “I’m not trying to kill my husband,” he says, pulling a variety of mexican foods out of the bag, “I’m trying to find my son.”
Deadpool pulls up his mask and promptly begins stuffing his face. “I saw on the news,” he says, his mouth full. “I’m not great at un-kidnapping people, you know.”
“I think I know where he is,” Steve says, watching Deadpool polish off a burrito in what must be record time. The mercenary starts in on the nachos. “I think you might know something about it. I’ll pay you for your time.” He shifts the duffle bag next to him.
“Okay,” Deadpool says slowly. “Bit of an odd duck, aren’t you?” Steve takes a deep breath and explains. The kidnapping, the attempts to infiltrate the organization, and his goal to take it down. By the time he finishes, the tacos are forgotten on the rooftop and Deadpool is staring at him intently. Finally, he replies, “You won’t be able to take it down.”
“What?” Steve asks. He’d expected the mercenary to be willing to work with him. Deadpool’s infamous for his extremely harsh treatment toward those who harm children.
“It’s called Hydra,” Deadpool says. “Because of the whole ‘cut off one head and two grow in its place’ deal. It’s been around for forever. You won’t take it down, but you might be able to get your son out.”
Steve shakes his head. “I work for SHIELD. I’ve got resources.”
Deadpool raises his hands. “You don’t want my advice, don’t take it.”
“No,” Steve says, “Sorry, continue.”
“As I was saying, you won’t take it down. It was called Weapon X when I was in it. It’s had different names throughout time. You’ve basically got it though. Kidnap a mutant or would-be mutant, trigger or enhance their powers, have ‘em fight for the elites’ entertainment.”
Steve nods, staring at Deadpool. Finally, he asks, “what was it like? I mean, is he– is Peter– going to be… okay?”
“It’s probably best if I don't answer that question,” Deadpool says. “Given that your kid is going through it as we speak.”
“But it’s not–” Steve swallows forcefully– “it’s not good?” Deadpool ignores the question, launching into an explanation of the many, many security systems in place and outlining the futility of the operation. Steve can barely look at him, can barely keep the tiny dinner he’d forced down before coming in his stomach. “Deadpool,” he says forcefully, “Are they torturing my son?”
For a moment, the air is filled with the smell of cheap mexican food and the sound of a distant police siren. “You,” Deadpool says forcefully, one finger driving into Steve’s chest, “Don’t. Want. To. Know.” He punctuates each word with a jab, and then the momentary seriousness is gone and he says, “Your pecs are swoon-worthy, maybe you can distract the guards with them!”