You walked into the bar, frustrated.
You were so done with your job.
You were an assassin.
Your new boss was this guy who preferred to hire and pay the women who agreed to sleep with him.
You had dignity and standards, so that was never going to happen.
You were barely getting any jobs any more.
To say you were pissed was an understatement.
You were debating between killing the boss and going freelance.
You took the only available spot at the bar next to some guy in a red and black costume.
The bartender looked at you.
"Scotch on the rocks," you ordered.
You reached into your pocket for the money, accidentally bumping into the guy next to you.
"Sorry," you apologized.
He turned to you.
"Are you hitting on me?" he asked you.
You looked at him, keeping your face emotionless before turning back to the bartender.
"Make it a double," you said.
You paid and took your drink before slipping away to one of the booths in the back.
"Hit and run is illegal, you know," you heard.
You looked to watch the guy in the costume slip in across from you.
"Last i checked, I didn't run anyone over," you said.
"No, but you hit on me and then ran away," he said.
"I didn't hit on you. And I didn't run away," you pointed out.
"Are you sure?" he asked, "I tend to be quite irresistible."
"Right, a guy who dresses up in a costume in public to feel better about himself is a total turn on," you replied, rolling your eyes.
"You don't know who I am?" he asked.
"A waste of space?" you mocked, gulping your drink.
Maybe he would just go away.
"I'm Deadpool," he introduced.
"I don't care," you said, recognizing him now.
"Really? Girls are usually all over me at this point? You know, unkillable mercenary? Really makes for some... fun times," he told you, leaning in.
You pushed him back to where he was.
"I'm an assassin, too," you whispered, "And you don't impress me much. Except for your courage to wear that thing in public."
Deadpool stood up.
You smirked, thinking he was going to walk away.
Then he pushed in right next to you.
The smirk dropped off your face and turned into a snarl.
You reached and wrapped your hand around his throat.
You threw him out of the booth.
You set your gun right up to his temple.
You felt the steel tip of a blade at your stomach.
You raised an eyebrow.
"Show me yours and I'll show you mine," he teased.
You drew back into your seat, and you felt Deadpool slide his own weapon away.
"Well, that was fun," he declared.
"Definitely impressive," you nodded, swishing your drink in its glass before finishing it.
There was momentary silence between you and Deadpool.
"So... sex?" he asked, hope sounding in his voice.
You looked him up and down.
"Yeah, sure. Why not?"
