Misunderstandings and Bruises

He had spent the extra three hours he had, due to starting late on Thursdays, patrolling the empty streets, stopping a bike theft and a carjacking.

This shift, his usual routine was broken, the bar was already open, and so a few men and women were drinking at tables. Though it was nowhere near the amount there usually was, in fact, the bar seemed almost empty despite there being at least ten people, not including himself. Heading behind the bar, Ferret deposited his backpack in the backroom and let his eyes search the room for Weasel, finding him in the corner, bent over a monitor and groaning in a frustrated tone.

"Hey, Weasel, I'm here,"

"Oh, good, I need you real quick," the man said as he beckoned him over.

"Huh? What with?"

"Okay, so, I'm completely capable and all that, but I'm really tired and am running on several  shots and can't see where my code's gone to shit," his speech was accompanied by gestures that further emphasised his annoyance.

"Ah, right, sure,"

Ferret came and leaned over the monitor. Weasel let go of the mouse, leaned back, and fell into his chair, letting it wheel backward slightly. Peter concentrated on the screen, taking hold of the mouse to scroll through as he pleased in search of where the code was bugged.

As he searched he spotted a misspelling, Weasel, in his hurry, had only typed a letter once instead of twice. Peter pointed it out and quickly fixed it, letting Weasel take over once more and run the program.

"What the fuck, thanks man,"

Ferret chuckled and replied, "No problem, would recommend more sleep, though," as he backed away.

"Yeah, yeah, well, sometimes I have to run on alcohol when business gets too busy for sleep,"

"Right, you could ask for help if you need it, though, that's kinda what I'm here for,"

"Y'know I mean mercenary business, right?" Weasel threw him a look.

"Well, yeah, but I wouldn't mind helping a little, though I'd rather not get too much into the illegal side," and this was true, the longer he spent at the bar, the less he was bothered by the idea.

"Huh, well I'll keep that in mind,"

With that, Ferret returned to the bar, wiping at the glasses.

It felt as though he had spent barely any time at all in the bar before the bar was due to close, Ferret had run out of glasses to clean and had resorted to spinning in circles. He tried to make conversation with a few customers but it appeared they were either deep in business talk or brooding. The one guy who did reply wasn't there long and the conversation dried up pretty quickly, anyway.

As they went to close, there had only been two men who swiftly left the building. There also wasn't much to clean so the shift felt even shorter, as if he was barely there.

"Usually there's a bit more people on Thursdays, I guess most of the usuals took big jobs this week,"

"Yeah, I'm guessing it'll be back to normal tomorrow?"

"Hah- nope, there'll be a load more people in the next two days as people come to get drunk after a job gone well,"

"Right, I'll prepare myself for that,"

"You do that, see you tomorrow, usual time, Ferret,"

"Bye, Weasel!" Ferret waved as he left, turning down the road.

The next afternoon, Peter left his internship, immediately hearing far-off screams. He darted into a nearby alley, changed into his Spider-Man costume - all the while checking for any peeping toms - and swung himself into the air in the direction of the distressed yells. 

A man in a hood was pulling at a shouting woman's belongings, trying to rip them from her grasp. On the floor were items that looked to have fallen from her pockets and purse, such as some change, tissues, and lipstick.

Promptly jumping into action, Spider-Man landed next to the two of them.

"Hey, now, I don't think that purse suits your outfit, man, might wanna let this nice lady have it back, huh?"

Spider-Man thought this would be an easy touch-and-go crime to solve but that was until he noticed the knife held in the guy's opposite hand, well, more like his spidey-sense noticed it as it was directed towards his face.

"Woah, okay, that's a little unnecessary,"

Why the hell would the woman try to fight someone with a knife? 

That was a question for later. Spider-Man grabbed the man's wrist, easily holding him back.

"Well, knife to meet you, too," the criminal was not a fan.

"Huh, tough crowd,"

He wrestled the knife from the man and threw it to the side, a harsh clang echoed in the alley as it fell to the dirt, he webbed it there so the mugger wouldn't attempt to grab it again.

"Isn't this so much better?"

This seemed to anger the would-be mugger as he began to wildly swing with the hand that was previously holding the purse which he dropped in favour of fighting the local vigilante.

The woman wasted no time in crouching behind the man to pick up her belongings, almost being stood on as he backed up. She hurried out of the alley and took out her phone, hopefully to call the police.

The mugger delivered blow after blow to Spider-Man's already bruised side, it had almost entirely healed but was still more tender than it would have been. That would bruise a lot worse than before. Spider-Man couldn't do more than groan and cringe as he tried to catch the man's second hand.

Once he got it he kicked the man's feet from under him, sending him falling to the floor with a yelp. Spider-Man grabbed the man's shoulder and dragged him to the wall whilst the attempted mugger tried to escape before he was webbed against the previously mentioned wall.

"And that's why you don't go around taking what's not yours," Spider-Man finished before he swung off. Reaching a rooftop he deemed satisfactory, he let out a groan, tentatively touching his sore ribs. He didn't believe them to be broken but he's sure he'd be met with the sight of black and blue colouring his torso once he changed out of his costume.

Suddenly his spidey-sense prickled lightly. Spider-Man whipped around to see someone in a similar costume climbing onto the building.

"OH-EM-GEE~!" the person shrieked, slapping their face with both hands and hopping from foot to foot, "Spidey? I am your BIGGEST FAN!"

"I didn't know I had any fans, at least as far as the Bugle's concerned," Spider-Man joked, slightly confused at who this screaming figure was.

"Literally EVERYONE loves you, Spidey! Other than one very specific old guy with an incredibly bad moustache - but I could easily do a little bit of choppy-choppy, slashy-slashy, stabby-stabby for you!"

"Nononono- no stabby-sta- no killing!"

"Hehh, you said stabby-stabby,"

"What?"

"Yep!" Spider-Man stood, confused at the response - confused by the person in front of him in their entirety, really.

"Uh- anyway... could I get a name to put to the mask?"

The look-a-like turned their back to Spider-Man and shrieked, "AHHH SPIDEY WANT'S TO KNOW MY NAME!" dragging out the 'A' as they hopped to-and-fro once more. They stopped abruptly, turned around and cleared their throat.

"I am the one, the only, Deadpool!" He announced in a commentator-like tone, holding a fist to his mouth as if holding a microphone, "Well technically I named myself after a betting pool but that's not important!"  Deadpool continued in a pitch just slightly higher and softer than his normal voice, making him sound a bit manic.

"Well nice to meet you, Deadpool! Hope we bump into one another sometime," Spider-Man abruptly ended the conversation, waving behind him as he heard another yell and was off again, reluctantly falling off the building, squirming in discomfort as the use of his arms pulled at the bruised skin. He vaguely heard Deadpool reply but the words were lost in the wind as it sped past his ears.

Spider-Man finished up his patrol and dashed back to the alley from before, he grabbed his backpack and swung himself over the city, closer to Hell's Kitchen. Peter got his own clothes back on and stuffed his suit in its compartment as he dashed down the streets towards the Hellhouse, hair sticking in every direction, clothes ruffled and ribs aching.

Weasel answered the door, as usual, looking him up and down, "You good, Ferret?" 

"Yeah, I had to run over here from my other job, I stayed a bit late and didn't realise,"

"Ah, right, well come on in and fix your..." Weasel made a gesture towards his own hair, turning his hand in circles.

"Yeah, will do,"

"There's a mirror in the back, there,"

"Got it, thanks Weasel," with a smile, he walked towards the door.

Ferret quickly deposited his backpack and made his way to the back room and found the mirror, he messed with his hair until it was adequate, still messed up but in a way that looked purposeful. He brushed down his clothes of the wrinkles and dirt that had collected on them. He didn't think it would be a good idea to check the bruise in case anyone came in so Ferret returned to the main room.

Weasel had already begun unstacking chairs, Ferret joined him.

"Oh! Yeah, right, Ferret, I told you yesterday we're getting a load more customers today than usual? We might have to stay late to clean up, bar fights are pretty common so glasses will be thrown, sick will be puked and some chairs may be broken. Try stay out of the way when they happen, you may get roughed up a bit while trying to get past people,"

"Ah, right, so this tends to be when they start finishing up jobs, huh?"

"Exactly,"

"Right, thanks for the heads-up, I'll try stick to the bar then,"

"Eh, if I'm being honest, you'll probably be walking among them even more after the first wave of ‘em, when they're celebrating less of ’em wanna get up, too invested in their stories, that and you'll have to change the Dead Pool board more than usual as we find out who’s dead,"

"Oh, uh, okay,"

"You should be okay, just be careful, yeah? The guys who've met you seem to like you just fine so just keep your wits about you,"

"Gotcha, wits about me,"

And soon they were open, people came pouring in, Ferret was making one drink after another whilst Weasel had to take care of something, barely a moment to breathe as he was flooded with orders. Almost every chair was filled and every side of the bar had cheering men leaning over it as they shouted to one another. As the noise level got higher, people began to yell to hear each other, making the noise even louder.

Where business previously flowed easily in, providing the time to talk with customers between making each drink, at this moment everything had taken a one-eighty turn and Ferret felt bombarded, overwhelmed and sort of like the room was caving in on him as at first, all he could hear was the yelling mercenaries as they cheer and slam their glasses down, barely able to string a thought together as he fumbled. Despite this, he was adaptable and so he tried his best to focus on remembering how to make each drink as Weasel had taught him, despite struggling to hear his own thoughts as noise bounced around him.

Limiting his priorities to only one task helped him stay grounded as the crowds got bigger and voices got louder, eventually letting himself calm down and interact with the people around him.

Ferret had more-or-less found a manageable pace by the time one extremely eccentric customer decided to throw himself across the bar, resulting in gruff looks from the other men waiting for their drinks.

The first thing he noticed was his sharp jawline which was accentuated by the harsh lighting in the bar casting a shadow across most of his face due to the hood he was wearing. Once the man spotted Ferret he immediately forced his way through the crowds towards him from one side of the bar to the other.

”Hey there! You  must be the one everyone’s talk in’ about!” The man yelled, propping his head in his hands.

”Me? I’m Ferret, nice to meet you,”

”Well aren't you just the cutest little mole-rat!" he clapped his hands next to his face, tucking a leg on the other side of his body behind him, like some sort of anime pose.

"Mole-rat?" Ferret muttered to himself as the mercenary continued his dialogue.

"Ferret? Hah! So the other guys weren’t just messing with Weasel?”

”Well he’s still being messed with, it’s just also my name,”

”Wait!”

Ferret paused in his conversation with the red man and handed a drink to a customer, already reaching for another glass.

”Are you related to Weasel?!” The man stood up and slammed his hands against the wooden bar, making the glasses shudder.

”No!”

”Then why do you both have rodent names, huh?!”  the man leaned over the counter, pointing a finger at Ferret.

”It’s not my real name!?” Ferret was mind-boggled how someone could believe that to be his real name.

”Oh and Weasel’s real name isn’t Weasel!”

”Exactly!”

”What?!”

”We’ve known each other for years, how did you not know?!” Weasel piped up from behind his monitor.

The man just let out a yell and hit his head off the bar, slamming his fists down with him, making the glasses shudder once again and the customers grumble.

Ferret huffed a laugh from his nose whilst pouring a drink into a tall glass and sliding it along to a patron.

”Well then, how did you end up working here?” The man had risen from the floor and now stood with his hands on his hips, sassily tilting his head in Ferret's direction.

”I needed a job and found the ad for this one,”

”Ad? What, in the morning newspaper?” Ferret jokingly rolled his eyes at that comment.

"No, in the bar window,"

"Really?"

"No, I found it online - besides, why does it matter how I got the job?" On second thoughts, maybe Ferret should not have been so sarcastic towards the dangerous man before him.

”Well you look like this little innocent scrawny kid in a bar filled with big bulky murderous mercenaries - oh wait that's what you are!”

The man muttered, "Oh hey, alliteration," to himself as Ferret replied.

Ferret rolled his eyes, "I can take care of myself perfectly fine,"

"Sure, okay, anyway, onto the next point on my list!" The man produced a crumpled bit of paper out of his hoodie pocket that appeared to have been torn off something as there was printed text on the back of it. There was scribbled words on the page alongside doodles and a lot of red pen.

"I'm Wade Winston Wilson!  You may  have heard of me before, I'm quite well known around these parts," the man leaned one elbow on the bar the best he could as both hands were on his hips.

Finally able to put a name to a face- well, shadow-y figure, Ferret

Thinking back on the day, more specifically the odd encounter with Deadpool - what sort of alias was that? If he was a merc then did he just rename himself after the Dead Pool board? Ferret glanced up at it as he worked, now realising that the words “Dead Pool” and “Deadpool” underneath, were not a simple mistake or design flaw but a purposeful part of the board as Deadpool was right at the top.

“Hey, you still listening to me?” Ferret was broken out of his thoughts, “Oh~ yeah, that’s me up there!” Ferret looked again, seeing the name 'Wade Wilson' underneath 'Deadpool'.

“Nice, must be pretty hard to get that high up on the board," Ferret replied, not paying full attention to Wade as he started on the drinks he'd be taking over to tables.

"You betcha it is! But I don't think you quite  know what the board actually is,"

"Well it's a betting pool, or something, right?"

"Uhh, yeah, people bet on if you're gonna die,"

"Wait so why are you so high up?"

"Well~ I've been doing the whole merc business for years and all that money kinda adds up, plus a lotta people underestimate the guy with slightly above sized muscles who looks like he just crawled out of a meat grinder and had to super glue his skin back on!"

"That's- very descriptive. But wouldn't that mean people would think you're even better because you've survived so much?"

"Eh, not really, your luck's gonna run out at some point. Welp. That's depressing." 

"Uh-huh, well-" Ferret was cut off by Weasel.

"Ay, Ferret, need you waitering now, I'll take the bar."

"Aw, don't make him go away!" whined Wade, loudly.

"He's my employee, I'll make him do whatever I want!" Weasel shot back at him.

"Alright, I've already made the first table's drinks." Ferret replied, ignoring the two's jeering. Weasel gave a nod, already rolling up his sleeves.

Ferret took a tray and loaded the drinks - which mostly consisted of shots and a few beers - onto it, making his way into the crowd, being caution of his damn ribs. He pushed his way through, making himself cringe as waves of pain were directed through his nerves, delivering each mercenary their glass of choice and taking orders before returning to the bar to give Weasel the next list.

Whilst waiting, he listened in on the story Wade was telling. It was about a past job where he'd had to sneak in somewhere unnoticed, which, according to him, is not his usual style.

"Yeah! And the guard was right there! Clearly didn't have a care in the world or think I'd  be popping out the vent above his head! And then- BAM!  I hit him over the head with a rock I'd taken from outside the facility. And you must be wondering 'WeLl, wHy DiDn'T yOu JuSt KiLl ThE gUy?!' well, my friend, at this point I'd been waiting in that vent for the shift change for hours and had gotten to know the guy, he was an absolute cupcake, I watched him take a snooze, eat a cheese toastie, clean his big ol' glasses, and then I realised this guy had a double shift and I should get it over with. So I bonked him on the head and finished the job!"

Weasel then turned to him and instead of handing him the last of the drinks for that round, he asked, “Ferret, you doin’ alright? You look a little pale,”

”Really? I feel fine,”

”You sure? Cause if you’re sick, I don’t want it!”

”I’m sure, maybe it’s the lighting?” Ferret really didn’t want to be sent home on sick leave, he needed the money and he wasn’t sick sick! Just in pain.

“Yeah, maybe,”

And so Ferret took the tray around the tables. Whilst making his rounds, he was stopped by a few customers, wanting to include him in their storytelling where he stayed for an extra moment or two to listen and quickly learned this earned him a massive  tip. He'd gotten the odd tip before but today when everyone had just gotten their pay checks he was being handed upwards of $150, which added up due to the many large tables.

He was sure he'd make over $1,000 that night alone! 

This only encouraged Ferret to talk to the mercenaries which, in turn, encouraged them to give him big tips. 

As he continued to do his job, he found himself also helping the more sober of each group carry their drunkard friends outside where they would either slump to the floor or stagger to whichever vehicle they had arrived in.

"You're a stronger lad than yah look," one older man commented as they deposited his friend outside. This caught Ferret off-guard, setting his nerves alight.

"Ah, yeah, I get that a lot, I work out a lot but can't seem to get any bulk," Peter replied, it wasn't actually a false statement, Spider-Manning was a lot of exercise! Though despite the muscles he did have, he shouldn't be able to lift anywhere close  to what the other man could.

"Huh, well thanks for your help, we'll be off," the man walked off, dragging his friend with him.

By the time the bar was closing, Wade was still there, turns out he often stayed long after closing, taking up the space of Weasel's couch.

“He just loves me, we have so much fun whenever he lets me stay over! We paint our nails, do each other’s hair, talk about out crushes, just girl talk, y’know?”

”Shut up, Wade,” Weasel says drowsily, as he’s drooped over the bar, whiskey in hand.

”Anyway, here’s half the tip I got,” Ferret dug into his back pocket and counted the money which came to $502 when halved.

“What the fuck?!” Weasel, suddenly very much awake, stared at the money that had been placed by his head.

”Sorry, you want more than that?”

”Shit- fuck- no- Ferret that's half your tip?!”

”Yeah, I got like $1,000 bucks,”

”Look, just, uh, take your money and, I don’t know, buy yourself a bag of chips or something, I don’t care,”

”Uh, alright then, thanks! Anything else you need before I leave?”

”Nope, leave, bye,” 

Ferret blinked for a moment, ”Right, leaving, bye!”

As he walked away from the two and out the door, he could hear a bit of Wade whisper-shouting at Weasel, "What happened there? Usually you jump to grab as much money as you can get your grubby little Weasel hands on! You've gone soft! You like him! Weasel's gone so~oft, Weasel's gone so~oft!"

Ferret smiled as Wade's laughter got further away whilst he walked down the dingy street.