Chapter 359: C359 Kinky Masochist Slave
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In the penthouse of a thumping nightclub, Sergei Valishnikov, a middle-aged Russian man, covered in tattoos, lay tied to a bed, his body glistening with a sheen of sweat.
Above him stood a provocative dominatrix, holding a leather whip in hand, matching her skin tight outfit.
Though just before she could crack the whip once again, their playful encounter came to an abrupt halt as the shrill ring of a phone shattered the sexual atmosphere of the dimly lit room.
Sergei's eyes narrowed, annoyance etched across his face. With a slight nod, the woman withdrew a ball gag from his mouth and answered the call, placing the phone against his ear.
Sergei growled into the receiver, his voice laced with hostility. "Who the f*ck is calling at this hour? This better be important!"
"Are you busy, Sergei?" A familiar voice resonated through the speaker, causing Sergei's eyes to widen in recognition.
Instantly, the hostility melted away, replaced by subservience and fear. "M-Mr. Fisk, my apologies. I wasn't expecting your call."
Wilson Fisk, the notorious Kingpin of crime, spoke with a calculated calmness. "Did you complete the task I assigned to you?"
Sergei cleared his throat, desperately trying to compose himself. "Yes, Mr. Fisk. I sent my best men to take care of him, just as you ordered. He's probably dead by now."
There was a momentary silence on the other end of the line, causing Sergei's heart to race.
"Very well, Sergei. I trust you did your best. We shall discuss the details later. However, I must remind you of the consequences of failure." Fisk's voice remained cool and collected.
Sergei's eyes widened, his mind racing.
Fisk has many criminal enterprises under his belt, one of which is the Russian Mob. He took hold of this organization through the blackmail of its leader, Sergei Valishnikov.
And it wasn't just Sergeis masochistic tendencies that Fisk knew about either.
The type of information that Fisk had on Sergei could get him hunted by the FBI and ousted from his own organization.
So, how could Fisk not know what he was engaged in at this very moment?
This knowledge sent shivers down his spine as he stammered into the phone. "I assure you, Mr. Fisk, I will not fail you. I'm loyal. You know that..."
Fisk's voice grew colder, laced with a veiled threat. "Remember, Sergei, I have ways of learning things. You should be more careful about what you indulge in during your private time. Respect and loyalty are not negotiable in our 'alliance'." He spoke the word as if it were a joke. "Fail me, and I can't guarantee that your secrets won't become public knowledge."
Fear gripped Sergei's heart, his breath catching in his throat.
"Please, Mr. Fisk, I beg you. I'll do whatever it takes to prove my loyalty." He begged, his voice trembling.
Without another word, Fisk ended the call, leaving Sergei pleading with the silence, a freaked-out Dominatrix standing beside the bed.
As the weight of the Kingpin's power hung heavy in the room, suddenly, the sound of gunshots and screaming seeped through the walls from outside.
Sergei's eyes widened, realizing that he was trapped, restricted to the bed by his sexual preferences. "Unlock the cuffs! Quickly! QUICKLY!" He turned to the cowering Dominatrix, who just moments ago was confidently beating him with a riding crop.
Unable to contain her panic, the woman ignored Sergei's pleas for help and rushed out of the room, where she found a hallway filled with dead bodies and two pitch-black figures walking her way.
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-10 Minutes Earlier-
After reading the information from Jarvis, Peter turned his phone to Wade. "Do you know this guy?" He asked.
On the screen was a picture of a Russian man alongside his name.
Sergei Valishnikov.
Squinting his eyes at the phone for a moment, Wade shook his head. "Nope, never seen him before."
"Really? Because these guys..." Peter gestured to the dead bodies laying all over Wade's apartment. "...worked for him."
"Nope, he looks like a side character though. And I don't usually hang around with the lower class." Wade says nonchalantly. "My crowd is more along the lines of Ryan Reynolds, Tom Cruise, Denzel Washington..."
"Okay..." Peter muttered, stopping Wade before he could name any more celebrities. "Then let's go ask him why his men came knocking at your door." He said, opening a portal.
Instantly, the loud music and ground-shaking base of a nightclub echo from the portal.
"After you." Peter gestured as he snapped his fingers, using the reality stone to cover Wade in a blacked-out version of his Deadpool suit.
"Hehe, let's kill some Cossacks!" Wade laughed as he grabbed his swords and stepped through.
Shaking his head at Wade's excited behavior, Peter stepped into the portal as his own suit turned black as well. 'I need to get used to going undercover whenever Wade is involved...'
After all, he didn't want to ruin the perfect poster boy reputation that he spent years carefully cultivating.
...
Stealthily maneuvering their way through the upper floors of the club, away from the nightly party going on downstairs, Peter and Wade went looking for their target, silently taking out any random guards they found along the way.
Their blacked-out suits blended seamlessly with the shadows, allowing them to move unnoticed.
As they reached the top floor, they found themselves facing a long, narrow hallway.
Peter's enhanced senses tingled with the anticipation of danger as he saw a large group of heavily armed Russians gathered at the end of the hallway, a single door behind them, which they seemed to be guarding.
Their menacing presence was matched only by the malevolent glint in their eyes. And the moment their gazes locked onto the intruders, the air erupted with the deafening roar of gunfire.
"Looks like we found our Russky!" Wade said, a wicked smile dancing across his masked face.
Peter's reflexes kicked into high gear as he sensed the first bullet whizzing toward him. He gracefully dodged it, his body twisting with an unnatural agility.
Using his spider sense, he anticipated the next onslaught of bullets and moved with blinding speed, evading each lethal projectile.
[Insert Matrix GIF here]
Wade, on the other hand, welcomed the hail of bullets with a twisted delight.
His regenerative abilities made him virtually invincible, allowing him to withstand the onslaught without flinching.
With two Katanas in hand, he charged forward, deflecting bullets with deadly precision.
And as far as the ones he couldn't stop, Wade would simply take the hit and hope they exited out of his body on the other side. Or else he'd be playing a fun game of Operation with Vanessa tonight as she fished the stray bullets out of his body.
Though he may have to find a metal detector, as the wounds will heal, leaving no indication as to where he should be looking.
But that's a problem for later...
As they closed in on the Russian mobsters, Peter's hands shot out, unleashing a volley of webs, expertly ensnaring the guns in their hands.
With a quick yank, he disarmed them, sending the firearms clattering to the floor.
"Dance, anyone?" Wade called out, twirling his swords in an intricate display of skill.
With a flurry of blows, he slashed through the armed men, slaughtering them swiftly and efficiently.
His swordsmanship was unmatched, every movement calculated to create the biggest mess of blood, guts, and other body parts as he could.
Peter, who wasn't nearly as messy and excited about killing as Wade, relied on his acrobatic prowess, using the walls and ceiling to his advantage.
He launched himself into the air, somersaulting over the dying mobsters, and delivered lightning-fast punches and kicks. His enhanced strength allowed him to quickly kill his enemies with a single blow, rendering them dead within seconds.
It was the least he could do. After all, the only other option awaiting them was a blood death from Deadpool himself, so he decided to give them some mercy instead.
As the fight raged on, the hallway became littered with fallen bodies.
The once formidable group of Russians now lay dead at the hands of the dynamic duo.
Peter and Wade fought in perfect synchronization, their movements fluid and precise, like a well-rehearsed ballet of violence and death.
With the last mobster dispatched, the hallway fell into an eerie silence, the only sound that remained was the dripping of blood from the mess that Wade made.
It was everywhere...
They stood there, surveying their handiwork, a victorious gleam in Wade's eyes reflecting his sense of accomplishment.
"That was a piece of cake," Wade quipped, flicking the blood off his katanas.
And just before Peter could reply, the door across from them swung open and a curvy dominatrix came rushing out.
But just as she arrived, the woman froze in fear at the scene she just walked into and let out an ear-piercing shriek. "AAAHHHH!" She yelled before swaying on her feet and collapsing onto the floor.
Right into a large puddle of blood.
"Uhhh..." Wade grunted as he didn't expect that. "Is she alive?"
Walking over, Peter checked her pulse and found nothing wrong. "Yeah, she just fainted." He said, quickly portaling her over to a nearby hospital. "Come on, let's meet the boss..."
Stepping up to the now open door, Peter and Wade halted in their steps as they found a very odd scene in front of them.
"That explains the dominatrix..." Peter muttered as they laid eyes on a naked cowering Mob boss, who was tied to a bed with a ball gag hanging around his neck.
"Eww..." Wade groaned as he took a sniff of the musky air in the room. "Somebody's been getting kinky in here!"
A/N: 1637 words :)
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