Chapter Text
Date: November 11th, 1991
Location: Olympia, Washington
Thirteen-year-old Wade Wilson sat huddled in the sprawling attic of the Wilson Estate, a mausoleum of dust and forgotten memories. Rain lashed against the windowpanes, mimicking the storm brewing within him. It had been a week since the "accident" – a conveniently timed "business deal gone wrong" that left his father, Thomas Wilson, six feet under.
His mother, Hailey, had transformed overnight. Gone was the suffocatingly cheerful woman who force-fed him broccoli casserole and made him watch endless etiquette videos. In her place stood a steely-eyed commander, radiating an aura of power that left a metallic tang in the air.
Hailey Wilson, CEO of Wilson International, was no stranger to the ruthless world of corporate warfare. Now, in her eyes, Wade was just another asset to be optimized.
A sharp rap on the attic door startled him. "Wade! Get down here! We have work to do!"
The voice, laced with the same saccharine sweetness that once held a sliver of affection, now sent shivers down Wade's spine. He clenched his fists, a surge of anger momentarily masking the hollowness in his chest.
Descending the creaking stairs, Wade found himself in a sterile, high-tech laboratory. Rows of gleaming weapons lined the walls, each adorned with a strange array of scopes and targeting devices.
Hailey, dressed in a tailored power suit that seemed to swallow her small frame, stood behind a massive monitor, a cruel smile plastered on her face. It reminded him of Charlotte Pickles, the bossy blonde from his favorite cartoon, only a million times scarier.
"There you are, Wadey-poo," she chirped, her voice dripping with forced affection. "Today, we're testing the Mark XV prototype."
Wade swallowed, a metallic taste rising in his throat. He hated this "testing." Since the trauma of the "accident" had gripped him, his vision had changed. Colors seemed brighter, sharper – like someone had cranked the world's saturation to max. At first, it had been overwhelming, but then he realized he could see things others couldn't. Tiny details, minute cracks in surfaces, the intricate dance of dust motes in a sunbeam. Doctors explained that the stress of his father's untimely death had caused the effects of his once dormant X-Gene to surface.
Hailey saw this not as a freak accident, but a potential weapon. Thus, the "testing." This week alone, he'd spent hours staring down the barrel of various firearms, his vision straining to focus on the ever-evolving prototypes strapped to them. Focus that should have been better spent on coping with loss.
"Alright, pipsqueak," Hailey said, shoving a modified assault rifle into his hands and tussling his hair playfully. "Let's see how those fancy eyes of yours handle the new thermal scope."
Wade cradled the heavy weapon, a cold sweat prickling his skin. He raised it, aiming at the target across the room - a humanoid silhouette projected on the far wall.
The heat signature pulsed before him, a vibrant orange against the cool blue background. He could see the intricate network of veins beneath the surface, even the faint heat signature of a trapped fly buzzing near the target's head.
"Well?" Hailey snapped, her smile fading as impatience flickered in her eyes. "What do you see?"
Wade's mind raced. He could tell her everything, reveal the grotesque details his enhanced vision picked up. But something held him back. Maybe a flicker of defiance, or perhaps the lingering ghost of the love he once held for this woman.
He shrugged, forcing a nonchalant tone. "Looks good, Mom. Nice and clear."
Hailey's smile returned, a predatory glint in her eyes. "Good. Now, hold steady. We need to calibrate the zoom function."
Wade gritted his teeth, bracing himself as the world telescoped inwards. The details became overwhelming, the heat signature fragmenting into a million shimmering pixels. A wave of dizziness washed over him, nausea churning in his stomach.
A shot rang out, the recoil slamming into his shoulder. Pain lanced through his arm, but it was the echoing silence in the room that truly terrified him.
He lowered the rifle, his gaze falling on the monitor. The target remained untouched, a single bullet hole marring the cool blue background a few inches to the left.
Hailey's smile had vanished, replaced by a cold fury. "Useless!" she spat, her voice laced with venom. "Just like your father."
Wade flinched at the words, a bitter fury welling up inside him. He may not be strong, or brave, but he wasn't useless.
Wade took a deep, shuddering breath, the metallic tang of blood coating his tongue from Hailey's harsh words. Useless. The echo of it bounced around his skull, momentarily drowning out the whine of the lab's ventilation system. He wouldn't let her win. This wasn't about proving himself to her anymore.
With newfound resolve, he raised the rifle again, aiming not for the target on the wall, but for the framed photograph of his parents perched on a nearby table. The silver frame, he knew, had a hairline crack near the bottom left corner, a barely-there blemish invisible to the naked eye. He focused his enhanced vision on it, a map of imperfections unfolding before him. He identified a weak point – a microscopic fracture where the metal met the glass, just above the ornate script that read "Thomas & Hailey, 1978."
The bullet wouldn't shatter the frame or the glass completely. He didn't want collateral damage. He wanted a message, precise and deadly. Hailey's image, frozen in a radiant smile on their wedding day, served as the bullseye. He adjusted his aim a fraction, accounting for the slight parallax caused by the scope. The tip of the diamond necklace she wore, glinting under the harsh lab lights, became his final point of reference.
With a finger squeezing the trigger, the world telescoped inwards. The report of the rifle echoed in the sterile lab, a stark counterpoint to the pounding in his ears. He lowered the weapon, his gaze flicking to the photograph. A tiny spiderweb of cracks now radiated from a single, perfectly round hole where his bullet had pierced the center of Hailey's chest in the picture. No stray fragments of glass, no damage to the frame. Just a silent, chilling message delivered with pinpoint accuracy.
Hailey, who had been about to unleash another tirade, froze mid-sentence. Her eyes darted between the rifle and the marred photo, her face a mask of dawning comprehension. "You…" she stammered, her voice cracking.
Internally, a cold voice narrated the data, a scientist's report drowning out the storm of emotions. "1.3 centimeter lens variance at 3.75-times magnification, faulty mold used when set. Mother." Wade met her gaze, a newfound steely glint in his own. He may have been a scrawny thirteen-year-old, but with his enhanced vision and a growing sense of defiance, he had just shown his mother exactly how "useless" he wasn't.