You had become one of Francis's creations, or as he preferred to call them — his creatures. Ever since experimenting on Wade, Francis grew more confident in his work. Gathering a few of his minions, and snatching a handful of children—that was essentially the reason for your existence.

As you trailed behind your other teammates, two hands suddenly grabbed you, yanking you away. Before you could even cry out, Wade covered your mouth. "Gotcha!" he snickered. "Don't worry, I don't kill kids. You're safe," he added, attempting to reassure you, though it didn't do much to ease your nerves.

Now, in a rundown apartment, you sat on a chair by a small dining table, taking in your surroundings. To Wade's surprise, you hadn't screamed or resisted at all. The merc figured you must have grown used to such situations at a young age. Still, it struck him as odd—your nonchalant demeanor and calmness. Placing a glass of milk and cookies on the table in front of you, Wade settled into the chair across from you.

"So," he began, "care to explain what you were up to with your pack of rats, kid?" he inquired, taking in your appearance.