It was hard to believe that his week had started out so normally. Monday morning had been no different at first. Just like any other morning lately, he had popped out to the store to grab the random things his pregnant wife had wanted. Bacon, apple juice, and some Ben and Jerry's had been among the requests that day.
He could feel his phone vibrating in his back pocket as he left Shaw's. He pulled it out of his pocket to see that it was his wife, asking for flaming hot Cheetos in addition to the things he had already purchased. Sure, anyone else might have been annoyed at having to go back inside to acquire something else, but he didn't mind. His wife was the one dealing with all of the physical and emotional changes; the least he could do was support her by getting her the food she wanted. Besides, he couldn't remember if she had wanted Cherry Garcia or Chunky Monkey, so going back inside to get the latter just in case would probably save him some tears (not his own).
It was when he had started typing his response that he felt numerous hands grabbing him from behind. His phone had flown out of his hands as he was pulled into the small alley next to the grocery store, and even his strength didn't seem to be helping him escape from the death grip on him. Without looking, he could count at least eight men, which meant meant there were likely more.
Things had been so calm lately, at least as far as the supreme big bads were concerned, that Wade and Jack were starting to think it might remain that way. Leave it to his BFF Thanos to let them feel that sense of calm before shaking things up. Maybe Thanos wasn't the one responsible for the guys that were currently besting him, but Wade liked to blame him for things in a Thanks, Obama sort of way. He had been caught off guard, unprepared for something like this. It had been nearly six months since something big had gone down; as much as he thrived in chaos, he had grown accustomed to the feeling of being settled. Not many in peak shape could fend off this many men. Maybe he could take pride in the fact it had taken so many to best him or that he had been able to kick at least two of them in the face before they'd opted to grab his legs too. He probably would.
Before he knew what was happening, he felt cold metal being slipped around his neck. And then the prick of a needle. Drugs wouldn't work on him. His healing was too strong. But as he began to feel its effects, he realized the metal around his neck was somehow preventing his healing factor from kicking in. He was vulnerable in a way he hadn't been in quite sometime; even if he didn't have said healing in the weeks everyone didn't shift, there had yet to be a need for it.
Was this what terror felt like? A numbness taking over and the knowledge that he was powerless to do anything about it? For so long, he had been without fear to the point that cows were the first thing he'd mention when asked. Now, he realized that his greatest fear was exactly this: being powerless to fight, powerless to protect his family. They could have been going after Harley at that very moment, doing the same thing to her as they were doing to him, and there was nothing he could do. They had him, and he had no clue what they were going to do.
When he finally came to, his immediate instinct was to search the faces of the others in the room for his wife. To see she wasn't among those taken was a small comfort, but only a small one. He was in here, and she was out there. Though he knew she could handle herself, he knew she would willingly put herself in harm's way once she realized that he was missing. Which, given her craving for those Cheetos, had probably already happened.