Three days had passed since the awakening.
Wade still wasn't sure where he was — some sort of underground facility buried beneath layers of steel, silence, and secrets. Fury hadn't returned. The machines monitoring his vitals had gone dark, and the restraints were long gone. He could move now — freely, cautiously — and with each passing hour, his body felt less like a corpse and more like something... upgraded.
Nick had said little. Just that he was under observation. That his systems were "recalibrating." That answers would come "later." Classic Fury — always holding aces behind that weathered face and cold stare.
But Wade didn't need answers to know something was changing.
He could feel it — a strange hum inside him, like static crackling in his bones. Strength? Sure. Healing? Definitely. But there was more. One blink too long, and he found himself standing across the room. He hadn't quite mastered it yet, but it was happening — teleportation.
And the regeneration? Off the charts. Cuts sealed within seconds. Burns vanished before he could even register the pain.
> "And the best part? No pain," Wade whispered to himself once, grinning.
Better yet — his face was normal. No scars, no horror-show flesh. Just Wade Wilson in one handsome, untouched piece. A huge relief, considering in other timelines he usually ended up looking like a microwaved meatloaf.
> "Guess I didn't fight Wolverine in this one."
But something else was… off.
Every now and then, he'd hear voices. Not from the hall, not from any comms. Just... there. Like whispers stitched into the air, or thoughts that didn't belong to him.
Or maybe they did.
He'd catch himself looking up at the ceiling, staring into the blankness like something was watching him. Judging. Waiting for him to notice.
> "Fourth-wall cracking," he muttered once, smirking at nothing in particular.
And the worst part? He wasn't joking.
Still, he was learning. Teleportation wasn't so hard once he got the hang of it. All he had to do was look at a spot, visualize himself there, and — pop — instant relocation. From one end of the room to the other in a blink. No smoke, no sparkles. Just bamf and boom.
The wall was cracking.
And he was starting to like it.
On the morning of the fourth day, the door finally opened. Fury stood there, same as ever — stone-faced, long coat, a man carved out of hard choices and lost wars.
> "Time to move," he said simply.
Wade followed him out. The black room vanished behind them with a hydraulic hiss.
They walked through a long passageway, cold and sterile. Turn after turn — left, then right, then right again. It felt like a maze designed to disorient. For Wade, it felt more like a badly programmed stealth game.
> "Are we lost?" Wade quipped after the seventh turn.
Fury didn't answer.
Eventually, they reached the exit — a blast door that opened to a sky Wade hadn't seen in what felt like forever.
Fresh air.
Sort of. It still smelled like engine grease and military budget cuts.
Waiting outside was a matte-black car, sleek and silent. Fury got in the driver's seat. Wade slid into the passenger side, glancing around like he half-expected the car to be voice-activated.
The black car sliced through the outskirts like a ghost on wheels, engine humming low beneath the hood. Outside the tinted windows, the world passed in quiet grey — forests, fences, long-abandoned roads — all blurring together in silence.
Wade leaned back in the passenger seat, arms crossed, eyes scanning Fury's profile like he was trying to solve a puzzle that refused to be solved.
"Still not a talker, huh?" he said, breaking the silence. "I thought car rides were for awkward conversations and sad music."
Fury didn't even glance his way.
"You talk enough for both of us."
Wade smirked.
> Touché.
They drove for what felt like an hour before the road narrowed into a gated tunnel carved straight into a mountainside. A scanning turret dropped from above, blinking once at the windshield. The gate slid open with a heavy mechanical groan.
Inside: darkness.
The tunnel swallowed the car whole.
When they emerged, it wasn't into daylight — but into something far stranger.
A sleek, underground compound stretched before them like a hidden tech sanctuary — armored walls, elevated glass walkways, surveillance drones gliding silently overhead. People moved like shadows, all in black and grey, each one carrying purpose on their shoulders like armor.
This wasn't a military base.
This was SHIELD.
Fury parked without a word. Wade stepped out, eyes roaming. No one stopped to stare, but he knew they were watching.
They always watched.
Fury led him through a series of corridors lined with screens displaying global threats, cosmic anomalies, and faces labeled "classified." The hum of control rooms buzzed through the walls.
They entered a private briefing chamber — steel, cold, quiet. A single table sat in the center with two chairs. Fury didn't sit. He stood with hands clasped behind his back.
"You're not just some side effect of Weapon X," he said at last, voice low. "You're something they didn't understand"
Wade tilted his head. "Flattered. Still waiting for the part where you offer me a job or kill me."
Fury's single eye met his with unwavering focus.
"I'm not here to offer you a second chance," he said. "I'm here to give you a choice."
Wade raised an eyebrow. "Oh? Let me guess. Door one: I go rogue, become a walking anomaly, and eventually get hunted down by shiny suits with cool toys. Door two: I work for you, and become the shiny toy."
"Close," Fury replied. "Door one: you're a threat. Door two: you're a weapon we can aim."
He walked around the table, placed a file on it. Wade opened it.
Inside: surveillance images, medical scans, incident reports — and not just of him.
Others.
Mutants. Enhanced. Beings that shouldn't exist.
"You're not the only ghost rising out of old programs," Fury said. "The world's changing faster than we can catalog it. We need people who don't fit into boxes. People who understand what it's like to be a question no one wants answered."
Wade stared at a photo. A teenager with glowing eyes. A woman with metal skin. A man phasing through a wall.
"SHIELD isn't what it used to be," Fury continued. "It's quieter now. Deeper. Operating in the shade."
He stepped closer, voice like thunder in a calm storm.
"You don't belong to Weapon X anymore. You don't belong to anyone. But you could belong to something bigger."
Silence settled.
Wade leaned back, tossing the file closed.
"Do I get dental?"
Fury's lips almost — almost — twitched at the corner.
"Better. You get a purpose."
Wade looked around. The room. The base. The shadows. The weight of it all.
And then he looked at himself — at his steady hands, his unscarred reflection in the window, the hum of power beneath his skin.
From what wade remember from his past life, SHIELD will be in deep shit, but as a marvel fan I also want to be a hero.
["FORTH WALL : suddenly time stops and wade look at his right side to the reader ,,
Not only a hero but also some romance? " he smiled.]
Time resumed
Okk Wade said to fury, but i want money and a lab.
Fury looks at Wade for a second longer at nod is head.
But you have to do everything I tells you said fury, as he left.
---
To be continued…