:D
Chapter 2 of 'Stryker's Orders' is almost ready to roll out! :D I need to finish off the last bit, but I'm pleased with how the first bit turned out...
Team X’s mission to take out the rebel cell had been even more successful than had been expected. After a bloody, decisive battle the rebels had been subdued and silenced - much to Victor Creed’s enjoyment - before the squad had returned to base a couple of hours before nightfall, a collection of pre-fabricated concrete huts, one of which served as a basic barracks. In this bare shelter most of the squad were now gathered, Wade Wilson cleaning his sword blades, John Wraith reading quietly in the corner, and Fred Dukes gazing with longing at the small collection of photographs he held in his wallet, many of them women he’d never see again but whom he’d fallen in love with nonetheless. The sound of footsteps approaching the hut made Wraith and Dukes glance up, although Wade kept on staring intently down at his blades, focusing on the task at hand. Not many things could distract him from his weapons, a pair of oriental beauties that he always loved to take in hand. As the footsteps reached the door, it swung open to reveal a dishevelled - yet smiling - Victor Creed, his hands and clothes still stained a deep reddish-brown from the lives he’d taken earlier that day.
“Well, if it isn’t Canada’s answer to Casanova himself,” Wade Wilson drawled, not even bothering to glance up as Victor Creed walked through the door. “Is it safe for me to get changed in here or are you still in heat?”
“In your dreams, Wade,” Victor answered flatly, strolling straight over to his bunk and throwing himself down onto the tatty bedcovers, not caring that he also smeared a fair amount of the dirt and gore from his clothes all over the sheets.
“More like nightmares, actually. Does anyone here think it’d actually be fun to find a several-hundred-pound tomcat shedding all over their privates?” He glanced around the room quickly at the other squad members, but they both chose to ignore him, John trying to turn his attention back to the book he was reading. Not that the lack of having an interactive audience ever stopped Wade from talking. “Didn’t think so.”
“I don’t think I’m the one that needs to get laid, Action Man,” Creed answered drily from his bed, where he now lay back, arms behind his head, staring absently at the low ceiling. “You’re the one who always seems to have to remind everyone of how little you’re getting.”
“And you, of course, are Don Juan.” The expert swordsman stopped sharpening his blades for a moment, placing them down beside him and fixing Creed with the most patronising look possible. “I’d hardly call you a great lover, Victor. In fact, I’m willing to bet the last time you had anyone warm and willing was about a hundred years ago.”
“Oh, I’m sorry, Wade,” Victor answered smoothly, his voice dripping with sarcasm as he shifted position slightly and grinned over at the younger man. “I didn’t realise you mother was that old.”
“That’s the thing.” Wade didn’t even skip a beat. “You see, it makes sense to me that you’d want a woman who could mother you. It figures that someone with your level of personal hygiene would go for some kind of diaper fetish.”
“You know, that’s fine talk from someone who’s constantly spewing crap from just about every orifice.”
“Guys,” John Wraith sighed, exasperated. He’d just about had it with the constant antagonism between Wilson and Creed, and although he knew that he’d never be able to beat either of them down, he could at least voice his irritations. “Can’t you just take ‘em outside and measure ‘em? Some of us are tryin’ to enjoy some post-action quiet time here.”
“Oh, you think this is about some kind of size contest?” Victor commented, his lips drawn back just enough so that everyone could see his fangs peeking out. “I thought it was because Wade is an annoying little shit.”
“No,” Wade shot back, taking up his now-pristine swords and sheathing them in one fluid motion, “It’s about Victor being Stryker’s new secret weapon in chemical warfare - at least, if his underarms are anything to go by.”
“Okay, guys, that’s enough.” John shut his book testily and rose to his feet. “If you boys can’t play nice in here, then I’m gonna go finish up readin’ this thing outside. Fred, you comin’?”
The large blonde man stared indolently at his team-mates for a moment before shrugging and standing up beside John, pocketing his wallet with its many photos and popping a new stick of chewing gum into his mouth. Shaking his head and muttering under his breath, Wraith stomped outside with Dukes in tow, clearly annoyed by the fact that his colleagues couldn’t spend two minutes in the same room with each other without having a verbal sniping contest.
“Looks like somebody got his period today,” Wade smiled innocently as the door slammed shut.
Team X’s mission to take out the rebel cell had been even more successful than had been expected. After a bloody, decisive battle the rebels had been subdued and silenced - much to Victor Creed’s enjoyment - before the squad had returned to base a couple of hours before nightfall, a collection of pre-fabricated concrete huts, one of which served as a basic barracks. In this bare shelter most of the squad were now gathered, Wade Wilson cleaning his sword blades, John Wraith reading quietly in the corner, and Fred Dukes gazing with longing at the small collection of photographs he held in his wallet, many of them women he’d never see again but whom he’d fallen in love with nonetheless. The sound of footsteps approaching the hut made Wraith and Dukes glance up, although Wade kept on staring intently down at his blades, focusing on the task at hand. Not many things could distract him from his weapons, a pair of oriental beauties that he always loved to take in hand. As the footsteps reached the door, it swung open to reveal a dishevelled - yet smiling - Victor Creed, his hands and clothes still stained a deep reddish-brown from the lives he’d taken earlier that day.
“Well, if it isn’t Canada’s answer to Casanova himself,” Wade Wilson drawled, not even bothering to glance up as Victor Creed walked through the door. “Is it safe for me to get changed in here or are you still in heat?”
“In your dreams, Wade,” Victor answered flatly, strolling straight over to his bunk and throwing himself down onto the tatty bedcovers, not caring that he also smeared a fair amount of the dirt and gore from his clothes all over the sheets.
“More like nightmares, actually. Does anyone here think it’d actually be fun to find a several-hundred-pound tomcat shedding all over their privates?” He glanced around the room quickly at the other squad members, but they both chose to ignore him, John trying to turn his attention back to the book he was reading. Not that the lack of having an interactive audience ever stopped Wade from talking. “Didn’t think so.”
“I don’t think I’m the one that needs to get laid, Action Man,” Creed answered drily from his bed, where he now lay back, arms behind his head, staring absently at the low ceiling. “You’re the one who always seems to have to remind everyone of how little you’re getting.”
“And you, of course, are Don Juan.” The expert swordsman stopped sharpening his blades for a moment, placing them down beside him and fixing Creed with the most patronising look possible. “I’d hardly call you a great lover, Victor. In fact, I’m willing to bet the last time you had anyone warm and willing was about a hundred years ago.”
“Oh, I’m sorry, Wade,” Victor answered smoothly, his voice dripping with sarcasm as he shifted position slightly and grinned over at the younger man. “I didn’t realise you mother was that old.”
“That’s the thing.” Wade didn’t even skip a beat. “You see, it makes sense to me that you’d want a woman who could mother you. It figures that someone with your level of personal hygiene would go for some kind of diaper fetish.”
“You know, that’s fine talk from someone who’s constantly spewing crap from just about every orifice.”
“Guys,” John Wraith sighed, exasperated. He’d just about had it with the constant antagonism between Wilson and Creed, and although he knew that he’d never be able to beat either of them down, he could at least voice his irritations. “Can’t you just take ‘em outside and measure ‘em? Some of us are tryin’ to enjoy some post-action quiet time here.”
“Oh, you think this is about some kind of size contest?” Victor commented, his lips drawn back just enough so that everyone could see his fangs peeking out. “I thought it was because Wade is an annoying little shit.”
“No,” Wade shot back, taking up his now-pristine swords and sheathing them in one fluid motion, “It’s about Victor being Stryker’s new secret weapon in chemical warfare - at least, if his underarms are anything to go by.”
“Okay, guys, that’s enough.” John shut his book testily and rose to his feet. “If you boys can’t play nice in here, then I’m gonna go finish up readin’ this thing outside. Fred, you comin’?”
The large blonde man stared indolently at his team-mates for a moment before shrugging and standing up beside John, pocketing his wallet with its many photos and popping a new stick of chewing gum into his mouth. Shaking his head and muttering under his breath, Wraith stomped outside with Dukes in tow, clearly annoyed by the fact that his colleagues couldn’t spend two minutes in the same room with each other without having a verbal sniping contest.
“Looks like somebody got his period today,” Wade smiled innocently as the door slammed shut.