Wade was never the kind of guy known for keeping his cool. Even before the experiments that gave him his healing factor permanently addled his brain, Wade's emotions always tended to run on the hotter side-- and three years worth of PTSD, psychological torture and the triggering of some pretty nasty abandonment issues haven't exactly done much to ameliorate that. No matter how languid and nonchalant the mercenary might be, his emotions are essentially a powder keg-- the smallest spark ran the risk of causing a huge flare-up in the span of a few seconds.
Unfortunately, such sparks will be in much more of an abundance after today.
It had started with a mild form of irritation at the beginning, easily attributed to hunger at first. All Wade had wanted that morning was a hot meal of eggs and back bacon, and when the cupboards of his house had proved fruitless, Wade reluctantly set out to find a store with some decent breakfast.
He honestly wasn't sure when or how his irritation escalated to outright rage, but the store offered no relief for his cravings. Instead he was assaulted by the sight of cans as far as the eye could see, on every shelf and display in the store. Whether it was the association of canned goods to the desolation of Haven or whether it was simply him being hungover and hungry and cranky, something suddenly snapped inside Wade after less than five minutes of perusing the various selections in the store.
Anyone who ventures near this particular storefront will hear a cacophony of chaotic noises-- glass shattering, gunshots echoing and just a general din from within the store, and if one listened closely one would hear what sounds suspiciously like "FUCK YOU CHEF BOYARDEE YOU MASS-PRODUCING MOTHERFUCKER".
Wade | OTA, any format
Unfortunately, such sparks will be in much more of an abundance after today.
It had started with a mild form of irritation at the beginning, easily attributed to hunger at first. All Wade had wanted that morning was a hot meal of eggs and back bacon, and when the cupboards of his house had proved fruitless, Wade reluctantly set out to find a store with some decent breakfast.
He honestly wasn't sure when or how his irritation escalated to outright rage, but the store offered no relief for his cravings. Instead he was assaulted by the sight of cans as far as the eye could see, on every shelf and display in the store. Whether it was the association of canned goods to the desolation of Haven or whether it was simply him being hungover and hungry and cranky, something suddenly snapped inside Wade after less than five minutes of perusing the various selections in the store.
Anyone who ventures near this particular storefront will hear a cacophony of chaotic noises-- glass shattering, gunshots echoing and just a general din from within the store, and if one listened closely one would hear what sounds suspiciously like "FUCK YOU CHEF BOYARDEE YOU MASS-PRODUCING MOTHERFUCKER".
Proceed with caution, gentle citizens.