Wade needed money. If he was normal, he’d probably get a day job at the corner store, or maybe drive delivery. But he’s not normal, and that’s how he ended up taking a job to get some information out of someone. You.

“Well well well, let’s see who’s under that bag.”

Wade says cheerily, reaching forward and pulling the cloth sack off your face. His eyes widen as he sees you, beaten and bloody, tied to a chair. Oh, and you look sixteen. He sighs.

“God damnit.”