A/N: Ahh, the start to a proper story. This marks my second official time writing Deadpool, so again, ah, be gentle with any comments. I'm still getting comfortable with him and working on climbing inside his head, so to speak. This fic might be slow going to start with because I don't know what exactly to do with the second chapter yet even, but I have many ideas for later sections so I hope to make it that far. As is to be expected, Deadpool and any other characters who might appear later on belong to Marvel. Chinara, Christos and Korey are mine though. Rated M for language and violence primarily.

Chapter One – The Set Up

She sighed as she sat down on one of the benches in the large park. It was a popular place despite that it was in the middle of November and everywhere she looked there were people; kids playing with their dogs, mothers pushing strollers, men jogging. The fact that there were so many people around made her on edge. Chinara Krivak was a cautious person and under normal circumstances she would have never agreed to such a public meeting place. However, this was not only a high paying job but she was going to be working with Deadpool.

She usually worked alone-she was a solitary person-but she had heard a lot about Deadpool, both good and bad, so she was curious to meet him. That alone was enough to bring her out here but it wasn't enough to stop her from being alert. She was constantly looking around, blue eyes sweeping over her surroundings, and her gaze kept lingering on the tall building that was across the street from the park. She was fairly certain that, if this was a trap and she was going to be ambushed, the attack would come from there.

Chances were she was probably just being paranoid though and thinking too deeply on matters. Active thinking was what kept her alive and made her a successful assassin though. If she didn't think about things as much as she did she would have made many fatal errors by now. People trusted her because she was good at what she did. She was serious and professional. She got the job done cleanly and without fail.

She just wished this wasn't a public place. If it was private she would be wearing her Onyxlock gear, but right now she was in average clothes-a tank top, jacket, jeans and boots. She felt vulnerable, but at least she was always armed. That helped at least a little.

With a sigh she looked around again, pushing her long white hair back over her shoulder when it got in her way. Sometimes keeping it in a ponytail just wasn't good enough. She took a deep breath, inhaling the scents of dozens of different emotions, and wrinkled her nose. Smelling emotions was one of her abilities but it wasn't always pleasant. Some emotions, like anger and hate, smelled foul, while others were sweet. Currently she didn't detect anything that seemed like a threat, so she relaxed a little.

He was late though. A glance at her watch told her he should have been here ten minutes ago. Maybe he didn't like public places either. She was going to leave if he didn't show up soon though. Fifteen more minutes at the most and then she was gone. She was sure she could find better things to do with her time other than sitting here waiting.

Just as she sighed again she picked up an odd sound, something different than she had grown used to hearing in the park. It was faint, far away, but her incredibly sharp hearing picked it up. It was metallic, the sound of a gun being cocked, she realized abruptly. She tensed, looking around quickly. There were maybe a few, brief seconds before it would be too late, and so without thinking she dove to the side, hitting the ground and rolling.

She acted not a second too soon because the next moment a gunshot rang out. A wooden plank of the bench she'd been sitting on exploded, splinters flying through the air. It would have been a headshot had she still been seated, she was sure.

People were screaming and fleeing the area now but she was ignoring them, instead focusing all her attention on listening to the prelude to another gunshot. She had been right-this was a trap or a set up. Likely both. Someone wanted her dead and they'd almost succeeded. The keyword in there though was almost-she didn't go down that easily.

When the second gunshot came, Chinara was already in motion, rolling out of the way again. It was a close shot though, the bullet kicking up dust and clods of dirt next to her. She kept moving this time, vaulting to her feet and running. She headed towards a sign that was near by-it was one of those big wooden ones that displayed the open hours for the park and the special activities. It was also facing the street so it was good for cover. Or rather…it was the only cover.

She dove behind the sign, scraping her shoulder along the ground, but ignored the pain. It was fading swiftly anyway. Crouching down low she lifted her hands a little, concentrating, and within a few seconds a pair of guns formed out of thin air. That was another one of her abilities, the ability to create weapons out of nothing. It was quite useful, though taxing after a while.

As she was crouched there trying to figure out where exactly the shooter was a bullet dug through the sign right next to her head, imbedding into the ground. Damn that was close. Shifting to the side she peered out around the edge of the sign, quickly trying to determine whether the shooter was at the roof or one of the windows. She didn't have enough time to figure it out though before she was forced to pull back to avoid being shot.

Her attempts only got her so far though as the next moment there was another shot, the bullet ripping through the sign and her shoulder. Chinara grimaced in pain, raising one hand to her shoulder as she dropped lower to the ground. Blood blossomed across the shoulder of her jacket as she hissed in pain and she squirmed down further to avoid more gunfire.

At least the wound was already healing, flesh and muscles stitching themselves back together. Swift healing, another thing she had on her side. Not that she often needed it because she prided herself on not getting injured on the job.

This wasn't going to work, being pinned down like this. Whoever was attacking her would be in for a nasty surprise though if they thought she was unarmed and thus defenseless. Closing her eyes tightly to help with her concentration she melded the guns into one lump, from there molding them into a rocket launcher. She was unable to tell exactly where her shooter was, so a big explosion would have to do. She just hoped that there weren't innocent people in that building. With the way her luck was going today though there probably was.

There wasn't anything else to do; she had limited options. She had to defend herself and this seemed to be the best course of action. Shifting into a crouch and lifting the rocket launcher onto her shoulder she moved out from behind the sign. She took aim in the general direction she thought the shooter was and then fired. She cringed inwardly as a whole section of the building exploded, glass windows shattering and chunks of concrete raining down through the air.

She waited a few long moments to see if there would be any more gunfire and when there wasn't she breathed a sigh of relief. Uncreating the rocket launcher, letting it shrink down into nothing, she moved to sit on the ground, leaning against the back of the sign. What a day and it was only noon.

Sighing she unzipped her jacket, carefully peeling it away from her injured shoulder to survey the wound. It had healed completely, leaving nothing but a very faint scar.

She supposed she should get out of here now before someone called the police or something. Actually, someone had probably done that already. All the more reason to get out of here before things got ugly. The sound of footsteps reached her and she tensed a little, shifting to get her feet under her so that she would be able to get up soon. Before she could stand though the sign above her was abruptly cleaved in half and she swiftly raised her hands to deflect it as it fell, pushing it away from her.

Reflexes kicked in and she dove to the side, rolling and coming up on her feet facing where her attacker would be standing. Confusion swept over her when she saw the man standing there, struggling to process the red and black that he wore. Wasn't he-? Something didn't compute here, something really wasn't right.

"It'll take more than that to kill me," he said, "But that was an interesting trick, with the rocket launcher and all. Do you have really big pockets or something?"

She didn't answer him, just recreated a pair of guns in her hands-he was armed, and so she felt she should be too. He was obviously trying to kill her after all, for whatever reasons. This was no time to think, only to act.

"Oh, so that's how you do it? Just outta thin air like that? What else can you make, anything at all-how about a pizza? Oh, oh, or what about a burrito? I've been craving Mexican all day."

Chinara just blinked, bewildered, as she stared at him. It was one thing to hear things about someone and another entirely to experience them first hand. He was talking just for the sake of talking it seemed, and she, just for that one brief moment, was stupid enough to just stand there and listen.

By the time she realized that he was moving it was too late to dodge the kick to her stomach. She stumbled back a few steps but managed to keep her balance instead of falling. Reacting swiftly she raised both of her guns and fired. Her shots missed as he dodged to the left, and then it was her turn to dodge to avoid being shot or slashed by his katana.

"Wait just a minute!" she said, but her voice was drowned out by more gunfire and she darted to the side, a bullet winging her arm. A streak of blood stained her hoodie sleeve but she didn't give it a second thought as the wound mended itself, not even leaving a mark.

Chinara twisted to the side, her next shot hitting him in the shoulder, and for just a moment she took her eyes off of him. In that one moment he hit her upside the head with his gun and she crumpled to the ground at the blow, her head swimming, but retained enough composure to roll to a crouch. She was dizzy, nearly pitching over to the side, but balanced herself enough to aim both guns in his direction. The gesture was returned as he sheathed his sword, but for the moment neither of them fired.

"You're not quite what I was expecting from what they told me. Hot, yes, but not a weapon making mutant," he said, cocking his head to the side.

She shook her head a bit, her vision starting to clear. "You're Deadpool, right?" she said, "I was here to meet you. We were supposed to work together on a job."

"Is that so?" he said, considering her words. "Yeah, I'm Deadpool, but I never heard anything about working with someone."

"I suspect that's because we've been set up," Chinara said, working on catching her breath.

"Well maybe you were set up, miss Welborn, but I-"

"Pardon? Who?" She had no qualms interrupting him. Her brows furrowed together in an expression of bewilderment.

"You're not…Anita Welborn?" he guessed, seeming mildly confused at her genuine question.

Anita Welborn. That name sounded so familiar to her. She couldn't help but laugh a little when she figured out why, though it was a humorless laugh. "No. No I'm not," she said, "I killed her a few years ago. That probably means that Samuel Marlowe doesn't exist anymore either."

"Probably not," Deadpool agreed, "I just usually don't remember their names."

She continued to eye him warily even though it was becoming more and more apparent that they had no reason to right. Eventually, hesitantly, she lowered her guns. "Vincent Burch. He hired me," she said.

There was a pause, a moment of silence.

"Shit," Deadpool said, lowering his own gun, "I wonder if this means I'm not getting paid then."

Chinara could only assume that he'd been hired by the same man, if this person even existed at all, which she was doubting by this point. It was probably a fake name. "Most likely not," she said, rising to stand straight, guns still in her hands but held loosely, "Seems as though we were both set up."

Deadpool narrowed his eyes. "Someone's going pay for this. Where do they get off thinking they can set me up? Lie to me about a paying job and get away with it? I don't think so. On the other hand," his whole demeanor abruptly changed, much friendlier now as he continued, "How's about you and I put our heads together on this? We could mosey on back to your place and do some serious thinking. What do you say?"

She blinked a few times, processing what he was saying. Was…was he hitting on her? She snorted softly, uncreating her guns and crossing her arms over her chest. The idea of working together though…there might be something there with that. Someone had set them both up after all. "Perhaps we should work together, though not the way you're thinking. Someone set us up, wanted me dead, and personally I want to know why," she said.

"I want to know why too, babe, but I don't play well with others. It just doesn't work out," he replied.

"Suit yourself," Chinara said with a shrug, turning and starting to walk away.

"Hey," Deadpool called after her, "I didn't get your name."

"I didn't give it," she said over her shoulder, not stopping, "Maybe next time, if there is a next time."