Chapter 6
Pain is a relative concept.
[Woah, getting philosophical here.]
[Shut up and left the Author get to the point!]
Pain is a relative concept. This means that, theoretically, one could, in fact, separate themselves from Pain. Much like how Time is a relative concept. Because it is only conceptualized within the time frame it's in. For example, when someone is having fun, it tends to go 'faster' which, is different from someone who could be incredibly bored in the exact same time. In which case, it tends to go 'slower'. The time frame is the same, see. But, time is relative and therefore determined, ultimately, by the person in which is experiencing it.
Which is why Pain is also a deeply relative concept. It is entirely dependent on one's will, body, experience, and mentality. For example, a baby, who has low on all four, will scream and cry in utter pain because of a cat scratch. This, versus an adult who may have high levels on all four, may only hiss or not make a sound at all. This of course, varies from person to person, as it is much more personal a concept then time. Time is forever moving. Pain is yours and your alone.
So, because Pain is relative, theoretically, one could separate themselves from the pain. They would be able to alter the four categories to a point in which they no longer consider the pain important, or cannot feel it entirely. Wade should be able to do it, considering his constant ability to get into pain. At least, that'd what Cable told him once, way before their divorce.
Wade calls complete fucking bullshit. Damn Priscilla, with his fucking messiah complex. Always being philosophical and shit. Always going on about how 'You can be better, Wade!' And 'You don't have to feel it, Wade!' And 'We can do good together, Wade!'. Wade fucking lapped it up until he realized he was just some puppet. Priscilla was a bitch.
[Yeah, but at least he could stand you.]
"Shut the hell up, Yellow." Wade grunts. His entire body burns like hell fire as it works to produce organs which pump nothing. He grits his teeth, unable to properly writhe in pain the way his brain and body reflexively want to. "Fucking Priscilla, always up high and mighty with his god damn bullshit. He can go shit out rocks for all I care, not that he could with that stick up his ugly ass."
Yellow makes a snide remark about Cable still being prettier than him. Wade wishes he had fists to clench as another wave of pain rips into him. God, it fucking hurt to grow organs. He can feel hunger ripping through him, but he can't even eat till he has the rest of his body. Wade let's out a small yell as some new organ flops, unable to defy gravity any longer.
"Fuck me!" He yells, before making a sound which is probably the vocal embodiment of 'kill me now please oh my god this hurts and god doesn't even like me so you know it's worse' he soon realizes he's actually said those words aloud.
Wade vaguely wonders if Peter will make it better. Come up with some other miracle cure to the pain. But he knows Peter won't. There aren't any pain killers that can help him. No magic, dampening cloth. No miracle working eye dropper. Besides, Yellow's probably right. Peter probably has him in some glorified fucking tank.
Wade settles into panic at the thought, which is driven by pain. He severely distrusts Peter, or at least, that's what he wants to feel. In actuality, he kind of trusts Peter. But that's not good, because Peter could be some Weapon X bitch like that fucking Fuckity Fuck of all fucks, Francis. Who the hell renames themselves Ajax, by the way? What, did he just look at a bottle of cleaning product and was like, 'hey, Ajax! What a cool name! It'll totally mislead them into believing I'm a clean, cool guy instead of a piece of dirty shit!'.
Fuck, Wade needs to get out of this damn place. Peter is going to fucking do shit to him. Peter's a god damn scientist. Why the Fuck did Wade trust Peter? This is not good at all. Wade is royally, royally, royally fucked. How could Wade escape? Could he roll off the couch and use his chin to nudge himself forward?
Fuck, he's skinless. That'd hurt like an absolute bitch. Besides, how the Fuck was he gonna open the door. Shit, he wanted a fucking taco. Why couldn't he eat? He just wanted a fucking taco, now. Or a chimichanga. He didn't even really like chimichangas! They were just fun word to pronounce!
"Chimichangas!" Wade yells, because thinking of saying it made him want to say it. "Chimichangas!"
Wade wishes he could squeeze his eyes shut, or cry, or clench his fists. He wishes he could do what his reflexes want to do. God, it hurt so much. Hurt so bad. He wished he could cry. He settles with vocalizing his thoughts in a frantic, pained whimper. Then with actual words.
"God, it hurts. It fucking hurts. If you are real, god, and I know you arent, make it stop! Please. It hurts, it hurts. IT FUCKING HURTS!"
[Quite compla-]
"It hurts!" Wade shrieks. Fuck the boxes, they can die. He doesn't care because "IT HURTS!"
The door slams open and Peter practically dives in front of Wade. Eyes wide in concern and worry.
"Wade! Are you okay? Of course your not, what can I do to help?" Peter's voice comes in quick and frantic.
"Get the fuck away from me! You're weapon X, aren't you? I'm not going back! GET THE FUCK AWAY FROM ME!" Wade shrieks, hysteria and delusion filling his mind. It hurt, it hurt, it hurt, ithurtithurt.
"Wade!" Peter yells, "calm down, calm down. You're fine! I won't hurt you, I swear. Wade!" There are tears in Peter's eyes. Not that he's aware, he's to concerned with the screaming, half generated man on his couch. He takes a deep breath even though he's not sure Wade can hear him. Wades yelling still, mostly a garbled messes of words Peter can't decipher. Peter takes another breath and calms himself. "Where does it hurt?"
The words hit Wade like a shockwave. He immediately quiets, because he hadn't been asked the before. Ever since his healing factor, no one cared. Because he would always come back, and that was more important then whatever he was feeling in the present. Wade's voice cracks.
"Everywhere," he says, and it's more a wimper. Peter nods.
"Alright. Can you be a little more specific? Where does it hurt the most?" Peter questions, looking around for what might be causing the most pain.
"Organs." Wade follows Peter's eyes to his exposed torso, which holds bones and organs. Peter nods.
"What can I do?" Peter replies.
"Nothing," is Wade's immediate response. He doesn't even think about it.
"No," Peter says gently, "There's got to be something. You know your body better than I do, Wade."
Wade thinks for a moment. Most of the pain is coming from the forming organs, but some of the pain is from them touching the couch. From them touching anything. Their meant to be inside, not outside.
"I need to not be laying down," he says finally. "The insides are touching outsides," his voice begins to leave in a mess of garbled words as he tries to explain.
"Alright. If you had to choose, how would you want me to go about this situation. Not practically, just, the best way. In your head, if you could have anything to fix it, what eould it be?"
"Death," Wade responds immediately. Peter winces. Wade tries to think of what he'd want. "I- I would want something to keep them in shape. And to be, like, hanging or sitting up. Fuck, I know it's stupid."
"No," Peter assures, "It's not stupid. I can't do that right now, but I can give you a temporary set up until I can give you a better one. It won't be perfect, but it'll feel better." Wade chuckles, but it hurts so it turns into a choke.
"How the hell can you manage that?" He asks, and Peter looks thoughtful again.
"I have some old boxes," he begins, "that could help you with sitting up. And to keep them in place I could find a bag of some sort. Like I said, it'll be temporary, until I can get a better set up."
"Where the fuck are you gonna find a bag that fits me?" Wade bites out, hostile again. This kid is fucking stupid. He's a mercenary, the kid should be scared and calling the police, not helping him. Does the fucker have a death wish?
"Trash bag, I guess," Peter states, then rushes to add on, "For now! I wouldn't just leave you in a trashbag, that's awful! I swear, I'll have something better tommorrow!" Then he gets up to find everything he needs.
Wade stays silent. It'd rare, but has to many things to think about.