Deadpool Cab Novels & Stories

They crossed again until they came to the side of the road. While panting and catching his breath, Shawn took out his Glock gun and confronted a cab. He then pointed his weapon at the terrified driver and instantly raised his hands. James opened the door next to him and pulled the driver out. He and Shawn entered together and closed the door. "Pick up your car at apartment building 324 Rush Valley, Harlem!" said James to the taxi driver. Shawn instantly rushed to the car, leaving the taxi driver behind. The man was confused that someone had stolen his cab.

She smiled faintly and began typing a reply when— SCREEEEECH! A white Toyota Corolla jerked in front of the cab, tires screaming on asphalt. The driver swore and slammed the brakes. Before Helena could process it, two masked figures jumped out of the Toyota. POP! POP! Gunshots tore through the air. The cab driver slumped forward onto the steering wheel—blood blooming across his chest. Helena screamed. “NO! HELP!” One of the masked figures smashed the cab’s side window. Glass exploded everywhere.

She walked out of the café, hailed a cab, and climbed inside. "Good evening. Where to?" the driver asked, his voice polite but neutral. Delilah gave the address, leaning back against the seat. "Alright," the driver said, adjusting the rearview mirror. He wore a face cap pulled low and a nose mask that obscured most of his face. Delilah noticed a live news broadcast playing softly on the car’s radio. The voice of the anchor filled the cab. "Reports of abductions and robberies continue to rise in Ashwood City," the anchor announced. "Authorities are urging citizens to remain vigilant, particularly when using ride services."

"She’s waiting for the morning report to finalize the liquidation." "Then she’s going to have a very long night." I walked toward the armored transport waiting in the loading dock. It was a matte-black beast, scarred by fire and debris. I climbed into the driver’s seat. Caleb took the passenger side, his hand resting on the grip of a heavy-duty sidearm he’d stripped from a guard in the subway. "The engine is loud," Caleb warned. "I’m not trying to be quiet." I turned the key. The engine roared, a guttural, mechanical sound that shook the dust from the ceiling. We pulled out onto the main artery of the city.

I break down sobbing, and collapse onto the seat as Mailin gets in beside me. “It’s alright,” he whispers, and puts a comforting arm around me as I sob into his jacket. “It’s going to be okay.” But it’s not. It will never be okay again. “Charles De Gaulle airport, now,” Duplass orders. The SUV pulls out of the alleyway and merges into traffic on a larger street. I’m sandwiched between Mailin and Duplass in the back seat; the other two guys are riding up front. “Christ, what a soap opera,” Duplass mutters. I try to ignore him, but he makes it impossible. “You and your thug of a boyfriend really know how to turn on the waterworks.”

Carl drove swiftly and expertly through the oncoming traffic. At times, he even had to drive the wrong way to avoid the delays. Some of the swerves were extremely dangerous and left the drivers around him flipping him the bird. Wade Johnson was in a world of his own. He didn't give a crap about a beggar’s corpse but the specifics left him intrigued. After a long journey, the car arrived in front of an abandoned tunnel. A bunch of police cars and an ambulance stood by the entrance of the tunnel. The place was cordoned off with yellow police tape. Wade got out of the car and walked towards the crime scene. A rookie tried to stop him from entering but another cop who recognized Wade told the ro

she opened her eyes when her car hit the garbage bin and he pulled up the handbrake and she stopped car by pressing her feet on clutch and brake. "Fuck you" she cursed him and got out of the car to see the damage and she was observing how bonet of her car and one headlight is crushed. He too came out of the car and then he heard the siren of police van, he smirked. "Who was driving the car?" Rough voice of police officer reached her ears and she turned back to look two policemen standing there and one police van was parked behind them. "Sir I am Manik Malhotra and she is my driver" Manik said in his swag and shook his hand with police officer.

I told the cabby, who was wearing a nose mask and a baseball cap. “Nice to see you too, Angela Jackson,” the cabby said in a hoarse, terrifying tone that made me tremble. My heart leaped to my throat when he took off his cap, revealing the bloodshot eyes of Alberto Miles Lucas. I opened my mouth several times, but no words could be formed.

Caleb muttered. He turned back to look at us. “Now, I know you two are famous for causing trouble. I’d suggest you don’t. My friend here is a crack shot, and let me tell you right now, if we don’t get to sell you, nobody does, if you catch my meaning.” My mouth went dry. There was nothing in those dead eyes. No mercy. No remorse. Nothing. “Understood,” Caleb said. “Good.” He faced the front again. The Jeep descended into silence. I gripped Caleb’s hand for dear life as we went down the highway, then off-roading into the woods.

It was the same woman she saw at the bar and the stairs. Before she could try thinking of what she was doing in her house, shock jolted her when she saw four Black Rolls-Royce Sweptails speed into the car park of her apartment, Casper and his bodyguard including Cathan and Caleb, stepping out with speed and elegance. It was a beautiful blend that made her gape that she forgot the danger she was in.