The bullet went in and another one fell down. Now I'd go home and go to bed, my check would come tomorrow. Being a mercenary was a lot like being a prostitute. You do something that society generally frowns upon, and you get paid for it. I'm not even gonna lie tough, killing was an addiction. I loved it. I was good at it. Exceptionally good. Or so I've been told. A lot of people, people on my side told me I wasn't bad. I was also good at covering my tracks. Especially if anyone got curious.

But of course if anyone did get curious, I could gut them and jump rope with their small intestines. Ah the life I live. When I got home I put my blonde hair in a ponytail, took the contacts out of my green eyes and put some comfy pants on. Then I settled down and put on a crappy, low budget horror flick. I was about to go into a deep numb sleep when I got a call.

It was the boss.

"Hello Sir."

"Andrea, I can't help but notice a target we paid you for a month ago is still breathing. Six Industries has no room for failure. I'm afraid you're relations with this company are over." I felt my hands clam up and beads of sweat gather at my eyebrows as I heard the goodbye click. I saw the guy die. I always killed the right guy!

But I did the only rational thing I could do at a time like this. I called Arianne. Ari was my weapons girl, my best friend, my rock. If anyone knew how to be rational about this it was her. I picked up the phone and called her. 3 rings and a rough rabid voice answered. "Hey Andibear, just got done takin' out the trash." An ex-coworker of mine who had just offed the only person I'd ever loved. Sounds about right.

I decided to invade the privacy of the only other weapons supplier I trusted. Weasel was his name and he was always good for advice and gin. He looked like he had been expecting me. He quickly poured me some gin and I downed it quickly.

"Ari's dead! I'm out of a job. Weas! I don't know what to do!" I started sobbing into my glass.

"No you aren't out of a job! We can go to the hell house tomorrow; Wade and I can show you how things work there. I'll supply you your weapons. Things'll be fine." He handed me a beer. I chugged.

"I WANT ARIANNE BACK!" I screeched.

"Ari's not coming back. Andi just calm down, drink some more and go to sleep. This'll be fine." Weasel was incredibly patient with me. I could scream, stab, shoot and slobber and he'd just feed me more alcohol and tell me to sleep. Eventually I did sleep. I had a small hangover, nothing too big. I had worse.

I woke up before Weasel so I decided to make him eggs. And pancakes. And coffee. I owed him that much. I owed him more than that as well, but breakfast was a good start. I was scrambling the shit out of some eggs when Wade came through the door. Wade didn't know me but I knew Wade.

"Who are you."

"I'm Andi. Mercenary, Chicago Burlesque dancer, inhuman monster. The people I work for- used to work for, killed my weapons girl, and the only person I ever loved. And Weas being himself let me drink myself to sleep. And you are."

"Wade Wilson. Deadpool. Also Mercenary, with a funk healing power and a brain that won't slow down."

"Pleased ta meetcha mister Pool." Before we could really get any farther Weasel came down.

"I see you've met the only person who can out talk you Andi." I giggled. The idiot thought I was talkative. But if Wade could outtalk me, I guess I was in the shit. Talking wasn't my thing. So while the boys caught up, I finished cooking.

When I was done, I yelled "SOUPS ON!" and quickly grabbed a bag I had brought with me. Quickly I dressed in a black top that hit below the navel and the straps fell on the side of my shoulders, it had a gold emblem on it. Then I put on a black "cheerleader" skirt, fishnet stockings and black knee high boots with gold straps. I put on my black biker gloves and strapped on all my gear. It didn't occur to me that the guys could see me. Well it didn't until I heard the signature douche bag guy whistle that you see in the movies. To that I rolled my eyes. They'd seen chicks in less before.

"Hurry up boys. We've got a big day ahead of us." I said in a rough, yet kinda girly voice. When I put the outfit on, I became a new girl. I wasn't Andi-Pandy anymore. I was Andi some Angel Of Death or a Demon or something. As stupid and cliché it sounds, it was the truth.

But Deadpool didn't exactly see that, "Little lady, where do you think you're going in that,"

"I'm going out to be a badass and kill the shit out of people, then I'm gonna get paid. Then I'm gonna go dance for more money. Then I'm gonna have a beer. Then go to be. Wait I have off at the club. Scratch the dancing." Okay don't let the last part take away from the cool beginning. "Now if we'll gladly go the Hell House and I dunno kill some people I'll pay for drinks after!"

"Weas. If you don't start hittin that, I will." I rolled my eyes. Typical male species. But we did go. I got a few more whistles and cat calls but it was just the usual. We walked up to a short older looking male.

"Patch. We have a new client. Ex Merc for Six Industries. Really excellent." Weasel was too kind.

"If she's so good, why'd Six let'er go."

"They didn't let me go. I left them." I lied easily.


"Unfortunate accident with my weapons girl. Weas and DP recommended I come here."

"I take it you'll be working with them."

Before I could say, "No I work alone." Mr. Pool replied.

"YUP! WE'RE GONNA BE BESTEST FRIENDS! And share guns and tell secrets, and eat chimichangas." I rolled my eyes. Great. I had a new b-f-f. Patch shoved a white paper in Wade's hand. He ran his finger down the list and suddenly screamed, "GOT IT!"

To which I looked at Weasel and muttered, "Oh no" From the looks of it, we were in for a major shit storm.