Peace.

          Peace is often vary rare in this century, whether it be peace with other countries, peace with quarrelling companions, peace within the gossip of celebrities, or even peace in your life. I know I haven't experienced it in years, not true peace anyway. Not that lulling serenity that overcomes your senses, allowing you to momentarily forget and ignore all else on this planet. Peace is such a powerful yet such a delicate thing. It has the capability to shake continents, yet can be broken with a single sentence, word or action. It's beautiful, yet frightening.

          Frightening? Yes, it is frightening. It's frightening because whenever it comes around, you know something is not right. Life these days – especially for people like me – don't get peaceful. If it's peaceful, then something is bound to round a corner and kick you in the butt. While it lasts though, I will enjoy the tranquility of it, especially because Wade Wilson is the last person on this planet that I thought could ever offer it to me, yet he has. Right now.

          The winter air nips away at my fingers, but I can hardly feel it. Usually, right now is when I should be saying 'I can hardly feel it because my mind can't think of anything but the man walking besides me' but no, I can hardly feel it because I'm that mother freaking cold.

          On the way out, I retrieved a long designer black over coat from the rack in the lobby, having barely used it today when I ventured to the Baxter Building. Wearing it now, I still find it miraculously cold, the wind seldom touching or interfering with my hair.

          I laugh freely, neglecting the glances thrown our way from the public. Wade appears to be at his own peace, also enjoying the simple walk to wherever he plans on taking us. "What did you do then?" I ask, unable to wipe the stupid grin from my face.

          He chuckles. "I stood up, straightened my back, saluted them and walked from the room completely unfazed."

          I roar in laughter again, and although he may have recited this story a thousand times for all I know, right now he's laughing as if it's the first he's heard it himself. I remove the small tear of laughter trickling down my cheek before it freezes on my face from the weather, giggling as I say "I can't believe you did that. In front of the President of America as well! There must be some law against crashing the President of America's wife's birthday party butt nude while his nine year old daughter looked on."

          He laughs even harder. "It was an honest to God accident. Not saying I didn't enjoy it though."

          "No, because you're kinky like that," I tease, elbowing him as we round another street corner, pausing at a traffic light.

          He wiggles his eyebrows suggestively. "I can be kinkier if you like."

          My eyes roll like marbles. "Now you're reminding me of Johnny."

          "Johnny?" He inquires curiously.

          I nod. "Johnny Storm, aka Human Torch, flame brain, match stick, tinker bell, fire cracker and an assortment of other names which I am sure will come to me later on in the night."

          The light changes green. "Hopefully you'll be enjoying yourself so much that they don't," he replies, grinning at me as we cross the road.

          We continue on like this for another ten minutes, until we arrive at the base of an extremely large and sophisticated building. He offers me his arm, courteously saying "Milady," with an earnest eye roll. I repress a chuckle at his obvious displeasure of having to act this way, and then begin to feel concerned about it. If he doesn't like acting this way, then why are we entering a—

          "Ah, you must be Mr. Malone's guest with his plus one, Mr. Ayton?"

          I glimpse at the man in front of me, and while he appears properly dressed, it's not a tuxedo like I presumed, but just a suit like Wade's. What is this? A slightly less dressy kind of ball?

          Hold the phone..... did that man just say.... Mr. Ayton?

          "Yes, that would be me. How can you forget a face as charming as this?" I almost face palm at Wade's reply, cordially smiling at the man and laying my free hand on the arm Wade has hooked with my own. "Yes, that would be us."

          When the man finally spares me a glance, he almost splutters on the spot. "M-Miss Aveline?"

          I hospitably grin. "That would be my last name, yes."

          He immediately steps aside, bowing as he gestures in. "W-Welcome the both of you."

          Wade and I offer nods of gratitude, and once we're out of ear shot, he sighs in relief. "You're better at this than I ever have been. Usually I just come in guns blazing.... Well.... Swords slicing...."

          I cock an eyebrow, attempting to play innocent towards his ulterior identity. He aids me out of my coat, hanging it on a rack before we enter an elevator and ascend at least sixty floors. "You what now?"

          He hushes me, winking and pleading "Just whatever happens tonight.... Play along, and it'll be over before you know it. Now if you excuse me, I have another date with a possibly more psychopathic person than I am. Just get a table or walk around. Stay in the public's sight though." And before I can even bloody well blink, the elevator doors have opened and he's taken off towards the other end of the restaurant.

          I groan. "Once. Is it wrong to ask for a normal date just once?"

          I take in the interior of the luxurious restaurant, glad I wore what I did. I was planning on wearing jeans and a designer top – because you know, according to Jordan I can't have any normal tops – but no, if I wore that in here, it would have been social suicide.

          The entire restaurant is a Greek themed with the marble pillars and the contained merlot grape vines wrapping around them. Not a single leaf is out of place. All the tables are spread through the giant floor, a lot lined up next to the outer walls of the building which are once again large window walls, offering a sensational view of the lights and New York streets way below at night.

          "Miss? A table for one or will your date be here shortly?"

          I turn to face the waiter, scowling once my eyes land on him. My eyes flare like braziers, and undoubtedly my face has gone a frustrating shade of red.

          "Chase," I hiss quietly "what the hell are you doing here?"

          War the Horseman stands before me with a straight back and head held high, adorned in a common ornate waiter's suit, his hair for once not a mess but gelled back, and a very realistic fake moustache decorating his upper lip. He must have gotten Liam to design his costume.

          Liam is the head of the Parkcorp make up, costume and designer department. He does everything make up and fashion related, readying Jordan and the rest of the Parkcorp director's board with their appropriate outfits and suits for the day or special event. We only talk to him face to face when it comes to outfits and costumes for the Horsemen, which he dutifully takes care of. Not many people know of our identities, but we've known Liam since High School. We took care of a few people who bullied him long ago, and once he neared death because of bullying gone wrong. In return, he's aided us ever since.

          "Chase?" He inquires in feigned perplexity, a farce French accent twisting in his tone "Who is this Chase you speak of Madame? My name is Gaspard. I shall be your waiter this fine evening. Now I repeat myself Madame, table for two or one?"

          I smile wryly, a vindictive essence shining through. "Two if you must," I snort snobbishly, deciding to be as difficult as possible for him. He is not ruining and spying on my damn date.

          "Oh," I add on, holding an elegant finger up as he directs me towards a table "and it must be a window view. Not too center because the height can make me dizzy, but not too far to the left or right because I mustn't appear as if I'm some commoner."

          I see a small spark of irritation spark through his eyes, yet he remains composed like the persuasive actors we have trained up to be. "Of course, Madame."

          My heels click against the magnificent obsidian colored marble flooring, treading up a couple of steps before reaching a beautiful table for two right next to the window, a position accurate to my request. I stand there staring at him as he does the same, then I clear my throat and scold "Sir, if you would be so kind to pull my chair out so I can sit. Honestly, good help is so hard to come by these days."

          His eyes close for a moment, and his French accent strains when he draws the chair out, allowing me to sit down and he pushes it back in. "My most sincere apologies, belle dame."

          I scoff. "You keep this up and you'll end up losing your job."

          After he's pushed me back in, he rounds the table so I can better face him. He appears passive and placid, but Chase was named the Horseman of War for a reason. An entire battlefield rages behind those eyes, and I know for a fact that he's seething underneath the act. He has no right, no right at all. This is my date, and it's completely and ridiculously childish that he's acting this way. Surely Lucas wouldn't allow him to—

          Wait...... he wouldn't..... would he?

          No.

          No no no no no no no no no no no no no no NO.

          A tight, laboured smile pulls at face, and I turn to Gaspard. "So, if Larry is here, Curly and Moe can't be far behind. There's no way Lucas would let you out of the penthouse. He's here with you," I rub my face exasperatedly with both hands, my elbows on the table as I begin to more so murmur to myself now "brilliant. This is going splendidly. Why can't you blundering idiots just let me have a nice night out for once?"

          Chase persists to stay in character. "Madame? Have I upset you in some way? It was not my intention—"

          "Fetch me a glass of your most expensive wine thanks," I request, deciding that playing the guilt trip card wasn't going to go anywhere anytime soon.

          He bows elegantly. "Right away Madame."

          As he scurries off, I scour my surroundings for another waiter, my eyes landing on one who just finished serving another table. "Waiter!"

          He turns to me, scampering over and assuring "Miss I will send another waiter to tend to your—"

          "Oh no, I'm overly enamoured as far as the restaurant goes, my only problem is that waiter over there," I point over to Chase who currently has his back turned, the new waiter following my gaze "he's been implying vulgar and lewd suggestions all night so far, and earlier on I could have sworn I witnessed him drug another woman's wine glass. Surely you don't allow such behaviour in a grand establishment like this?"

          The man instantly splutters, yet manages to clear his throat and momentarily glare at Chase's back. He turns to face me, an apologetic smile gracing his features. "No we do not Miss. I must apologize for such behaviour, I will see to it immediately. How about a complimentary entrée? On the house."

           I endow a gratified smile unto him. "That would be lovely, thank you again good sir."

          He nods, stalking over to a few security guards and pointing to Chase, whispering a few things into their ears. Of course, in reality they don't stand a chance against him if he fights, but he can't fight now or he'd attract more attention to himself. The other waiter is undoubtedly going to inform all other staff members as well.

          One down, two to go.

                    ******

          Twenty minutes has come and gone, as well as a delectable entrée and a few glasses of wine.

          No Lucas, Wade or Jordan though.

          I swirl the crimson alcohol around and around in my glass, eyes examining the exquisite restaurant. Lucas is smart, he'll most definitely be harder to discover and be rid of. Jordan though.... How does Jordan think in missions like this...?

          Pfft, that's an easy one; he doesn't.

          My gaze skims over a few decorative plants, until it finds itself fixating on a moving one. What the hell...?

          The plant plops itself down against a wall, and suddenly, the plant procures a pair of binoculars, the large leaves rustling as the binoculars shift around. Well, I found Tweedle Dimmer, which only leaves Tweedle Dimmest after having gotten rid of Tweedle Dim.

          Seizing my clutch purse, I fish my phone from it and instantly hack Jordan's own phone, observing the pot plant and winking at it once I've finished doing so.

          Nothing occurs for a few moments, when suddenly Jordan leaps from the plant shrieking, decked out in cliché burglar/spy gear, including all black beanie, black spray paint around his eyes to make him look like a racoon, black knitted woollen long sleeve, black skinny jeans and oh.... Black combat boots.

          No one recognises him – thank God – but he instantly gains the attention of the security guards. He sheepishly smiles at them as they approach, then loudly says "Whaaaatttt? How did I get here? Psh, I must have has one crazy night last night...." They don't falter as they intimidatingly continue to advance on him, so he noticeably swallows before squeaking "That would be my que. Exit stage Jordan!" That being said, he sprints out of the restaurant, using the stairwell instead of the elevator. A good six follow after him, barking orders at each other as they try to capture the 'unknown' criminal suspect.

          I smirk victoriously, my glass meeting my lips once again.

          Two points to Stella. Almost set, game and match.

          My phone vibrates on the table, and I swipe it open to see a message from Lucas:

          Child's play is over; I wish you luck in discovering me – LD

          My lips twitch further.

          It isn't luck, you know that Lucas. It's skill – EA

          I can almost see the sly grin forming on his lips.

          Of course it isn't, and I'm glad you're perceptive enough to recognise that. Lovely touch with overheating Jordan's phone by the way. Well, I best dispose of my own, unless I desire you to track me down using the GPS you 'subtly' installed last Thursday – LD

          "Dammit," I curse under my breath, tapping my phone in thought with my index finger. What to do what to do what to do..... If I was a genius like Lucas.... What would I do...

          Ping!

          That was a light bulb going off inside my head, just in case you were wondering.

           I tap away on my phone once again, messaging my AI Aidan and inquiring:

          Aidan, would you be a dear and scan over the digital footage and signature of every person's mobile within a two block radius of this restaurant? Lucas would have avoided security cameras, he's not stupid, yet he couldn't possibly avoid all the phones within a two block range – EA

          His reply is instantaneous.

          Not a problem Elle. Enjoy your date with the psychopath.

          I scoff.

          If he decides to turn up.

          The wine glass kisses my lips again, my legs celestially crossing over one another. The blood red stains my lips as I daintily lower it to the table, my other hand reaching for a napkin to wipe the scarlet beverage from my lips.

          "Allow me."

           Mid-way, the napkin is swiftly removed from my hands by a man standing almost startlingly close behind me. He wipes the wine from my lips slowly, his warm breath increasing in heat as he moves his own lips closer to my ear.

           A whimsical expression overcomes visage. "I was beginning to wonder if you had crashed another Presidential party. Scar any little girls this time?"

          His cheek is almost flatly placed against my own from behind, enabling me to feel a mischievous smirk drawing his mouth up. "Unfortunately no, just a seven year old boy. Wasn't as thrilling as the first time around."

          He comes around, but doesn't take his seat at the table, just standing and admiring me from his spot next to it. I cast him an inquiring look. "You know, there are these brilliant objects called chairs. Peculiar things they are, but they seem to be very good for resting one's buttocks in."

          He chuckles, eyes glazing over to cloak his current emotions. What are you up to Mr. Wilson?

          Just whatever happens tonight.... Play along, and it'll be over before you know it.

          His words from earlier on end up ringing in my ears, and I ponder on what he was referring to. Nothing is ever simple with the acclaimed assassin Deadpool.

          "Chairs are mainstream and overrated, anyway, while you were out here alone – sorry about that by the way – I managed to get us our own private dining room. Best seat in the house," he offers me his elbow, crouching lightly to do so "will you accompany me, fair lady?"

          His charismatic and enticing expression causes a small flush to rise to my cheeks, and I nod with a weak smile in return, not trusting my voice at the current time. "Of course, good sir." We link arms as he aids me out of the seat, guiding me back towards the elevator after having stored away my phone and retrieved my purse.

          The elevator is once against bare, only the two of us occupying it. He presses his finger into the top floor button, a buzzer on the elevator sounding overhead. "State name and business," an unfamiliar voice demands subtly from the speaker, slightly startling me at the abruptness.

          "Jacob Ayton with plus one. Dinner date." His reply is smooth and sweet, as if slathered in honey.

          There's a pause.

         "Proceed."

          As the elevator finally begins to move, my phone buzzes in my purse. Retrieving it out as Wade twiddles his thumbs and surveys the elevator, arms still linked; I slide it open and inconspicuously check my message, noticing a reply from Aidan:

          He's on the 75th floor in the building opposite to your's. Shall I send him a little g'day? There's a laptop and a TV screen in the hotel room he broke into.

          A triumphant simper plays at my lips, and I text back:

          Do what you want Aidan, just let him know that he's been beaten – EA

          I tuck my phone away for what is hopefully the final time, analysing Wade who still hasn't spoken a word or looked at me since we've entered the elevator. Hhm, he's certainly up to something.... Maybe he's planning on pushing me from window without a bungee or a parachute—

          Dear God, why must I assume the worst from him? For all I know this could be some giant romantic gesture. I guess living the way I have for the past who knows how many years has given me trust issues, always suspecting the manipulative or most horrible motives.

          The doors linger open, revealing a large spacious room with an indoor waterfall yet keeping the Greek theme intact. But it's not exactly empty....

          Wade's hand meets the small of my back, grinning and directing me towards the other members of the room. My smile falters. "What's going on—?"

          "I've kept my end of the bargain, I suspect you'll do the same," Wade intervenes, neglecting me wholeheartedly.

          The man before me leers, and any normal human being would shiver at the provocative and sinister glance thrown at them. I, however, have to force a shudder.

          Play along.

         "Yes, of course Mr. Ayton," the words roll off his tongue coldly, his eyes reflecting his own black soul "I wonder how Mr. Parks will react once he knows we've played and sliced his favourite girl."

          My eyes widen to the size of Frisbees. "Say what now?"

Ehehehehehe ;) Come on, no date with Deadpool is going to be easy.... Speaking of which you can find a picture of him above.

So uh, sorry for such a late update... I really just didn't know how to go about writing this part... so let me know how I did if you have the time because I'm still unsure about it. Of course, all the good action is going to happen next chapter.

Not much to say here except you guys are awesome.... keep up the awesomeness! (yes, it's a word)

Thanks for reading and that's all for now, bye! :) xxx