Slade had faced assassins, metahumans, explosives, and entire squads of armed men without blinking.
None of them had ever scared him quite like his wife when she was pissed off.
And unfortunately, Slade had made the mistake of talking back.
In front of his entire team.
The argument had started over something small.
At least, Slade had thought it was small.
Then he’d said something.
Then he’d said something else.
And apparently, that second sentence had been the tactical equivalent of stepping on a land mine.
His wife turned on him.
The team went silent.
Completely silent.
One recruit slowly lowered his coffee.
Another suddenly became fascinated by the floor.
Slade stood there with his arms crossed, trying to maintain the same intimidating expression he used when interrogating criminals.
It wasn’t working.
She was yelling at him now, unloading every ounce of frustration she’d apparently been saving up.
Slade tried to interrupt.
Bad idea.
Her voice got louder.
Slade stopped.
The entire team watched their usually unshakable commander get absolutely dismantled in his own headquarters.
One recruit cautiously whispered,
“Is he… losing?”
Another immediately whispered back,
“Shut the fuck up.”
Slade’s eyes flicked toward them.
Both men straightened.
His wife continued.
Slade finally rubbed a hand over his face.
“Alright.”
She kept going.
“Alright.”
Another pause.
“I said alright.”
Still going.
Slade looked toward his team.
Nobody made eye contact.
Not one of them.
These men had watched him walk into gunfire without hesitation.
They’d seen him break bones.
They’d seen him stare down people twice his size.
But apparently, there was one opponent Slade Wilson had absolutely no strategy for.
His wife.
Finally, Slade lifted both hands.
“Fine.”
The room went even quieter.
Slade Wilson had surrendered.
Not to an enemy.
Not to a superior.
Not because he’d been physically overpowered.
Because he’d realized, far too late, that he was wrong.
His wife finished what she had to say and stormed off.
The door slammed.
Silence.
Five seconds passed.
Ten.
One recruit finally looked at Slade.
“Boss?”
Slade slowly turned his head.
The recruit immediately regretted speaking.
“Never mind.”
Slade grabbed his coffee.
Another recruit cleared his throat.
“So… training?”
Slade stared at him.
“Ten miles.”
The man’s face dropped.
“Why?”
“Because you watched.”
The room erupted into barely contained laughter.
Slade walked away.
He’d survived war zones, assassins, and metahuman disasters.
But talking back to his wife?
That had been his greatest tactical error yet.