Note: This story is a headcannon, which means that I am taking a character that someone else has created and putting them in my own unique situations. In this case I am taking Deadpool and pairing him up with someone I have created, that I think fits his personality.

Saint Petersburg, Russia

A man wearing a black military like garb, pushed through a set of double doors; holding in his arms the unconscious body of a woman, her face hidden behind the man's jacket that he wrapped her in to protect her from the cold, and to hide the restraints he had tied her up with.

He laid her down on an old tattered bed. He looked her over. "Why wouldn't you let me love you?" His voice coated in a thick Russian accent. He tugged at the hem of her black sweater, gently coaxing it up her stomach, revealing a white tank-top underneath.

"Roman, get over here." One of his comrades called from the other room, interrupting his actions. He groaned pulling her sweater back down, he walked out of the room shutting the door behind him; leaving the girl in sheer darkness.

The sound of the door locking brought the girl into a slight state of consciousness. Her body shivered, desperate for warmth. She brought her knees to her chest, hoping to gain some sense of it; still unaware of her situation. She drew in a breath, only to nearly choke on the stench of Old Spice.

The girl cracked her eyelids to see where the stench had come from, but darkness was all that greeted her. Her eyes opened wider, fear swelling within her. She tried to bring her hands to her face, but the restraints stopped her from doing so.

What's going on?

Now she was really scared; her breathing picked up as she twists and turned, the bed squeaking beneath her. She drew in a deep breath and as calmly as she could, she let it out.

I'll be fine. My father was a member of the military. He taught me how to survive these situations...

She closed her eyes, trying to remember what her father had taught her.

Okay, first, I need to figure out where I am.

Her eyes remained closed as she cautiously rolled over on to her back, the bed squeaking again as she did so.

Okay... For one, it's cold, although that's not surprising since it is winter, but the squeaking tells me that I am on a bed of some sort...

Her heart rate picked up.

That's not a good sign...

But it slowed back down, once she shoved the frightening thoughts out of her head.

No! I mustn't think like that! Not now... I need to get out of these restraints.

She wiggled around; working her hands to her front.

Now I know I keep a pocket knife with me that is, if they haven't taken it.

She worked her legs up underneath herself, gaining momentum to suspending her waist in the air, so she could search through her jean pockets. She rummaged through her right pocket first, then her left, finding comfort in fact that she still had it in her possession, as her fingers grazed over the warm metal.

Thank God.

She wrapped her fingers around the knife, pulling it out of her pocket. She slid her other hand over; the tips of her fingers grasping the knife blade, pulling it from its sheath. The blade jerked back, cutting the said hand, causing her to wince.

Flipping the knife where the blade was toward her wrist. She carefully moved her hand back trying to avoid cutting herself any further.

The knife made contact with the band-like restraint, making a tiny tear in it. She used what strength she had in her hand to move it back and forth under the restraint, making the tiny tear even bigger.

This is going to take a little while, yay me...

"Come on; almost there... Just a bit, more-" She murmured, already tired.

The restraint snaps recoiling to her sides; letting her body breathe. She inwardly jumped for joy, but it was short-lived because she still had to find a way out of there. She quickly sat up, ripping off the man's jacket.

Alright, now what do I need to do? I think I need to try searching for an exit.

She slid towards the edge of the bed. Her hands going to her sides propping herself up; she was going to push herself off the bed, but stopped dead in her tracks when she heard the voice of the man who had brought her here.

Quickly falling back down on the bed, she wrapped herself in the jacket, to hide the fact that she had freed herself. She turned over facing what she thought was the door, so she could make a quick escape.

Her breath caught in her throat at the sound of the door unlocking; her eyes slamming shut. Pulling her pocketknife close to her body, she readied herself for what she had planned earlier, to fight her way out.

The door creaked open; the man stuck his head inside to make sure she had not awakened. Once he was sure she was still out, he entered, leaving the door partly open.

He didn't close the door. That's good.

"Now, let's have some fun." The man's Russian voice cut through the air, sending a chill up her spine. She could not understand what he had said, but the way the words rolled off his tongue told her it was not good.

He stood before her, his body in her range; casting a shadow on the wall behind her.

Three...

His gloved hand ran down her side.

Two...

He began to tug at the hem of her sweater.

One!

Her eyes flashed open; her body lunging up at the man. Before he could say or do anything, the blade slammed into his chest, causing the man to double-over on top of her. He gurgled, blood spilling from his mouth on to her sweater. She shoved him off and on to the floor, his body making an ungodly sound as it hit the floor; the light from the other room illuminating his features.

She slid to the ground, her face etched in disbelief. "Roman?" before she could get a closer look, other Russian voices sounded from above, grabbing her attention. "I need to get out of here!"

She jolted to her feet and took off running down the hallway. She looked ahead, a set of stairs in her view. Coming to a gradual stop, she pressed herself against the wall beside the stairs. She focused her hearing, all the voices jumbled, but at least she could tell where they were coming from.

Her heart pounded in her chest; what she is about to do is truly a leap of faith. As soon as the voices were far enough where she could no longer hear them, she bolted up the stairs, stopping right before hitting the top.

She held on to the railing, as if it was something that could keep her safe. She checked the brightly lit corridors.

Nothing; I don't know if that's a good thing.

She was about to run down the left corridor, but came to a halt once she realized that she had no idea how to get out of here! She sighed.

I guess I am going to have to use my powers.

She let out a sigh and fell to her knees. She placed her palm spread out on the concrete floor. Her pupils lit up to a fiery blue, her breath low and silent. Once she had finished her exploration, she pushed off the ground towards the right.

I knew I was right about needing to worry, but there is no time to think about that. Whoever it is that's killing my captors, I don't wish for him to find me.

Her feet hit the ground with force, giving her more momentum, as a large framed window, riddled with bullet holes came into her sight.

"God be with me..." were the last words to leave her lips as she flung her body out the window, hands instinctively going to her face.

She prepared for an impact that never came, as a black and red blur ran towards her, jumping up and snatching her out of the air. The man's feet hit the ground with aloud thud, but showed no signs of it hurting.

Her eyes snapped open at the unforeseen event, immediately darting up to see the face of her savior. She leaned into the man's arm, taken aback by the fact that her savior wore a mask, but took in every detail of him. He wore a tight, red mask, with black diamonds outlining his white eyes.

He looked down at her, his expression unreadable because of the mask. "I'm guessing you're Jacey O'Pray?"