|||||Not Elvis, but it should be||]|
What do you call the second-last chapter? The Penultimate chapter? Well, this is it. I quite like this one, because I tied up a few loose ends, and there's lots of fourth wall breakage. For previous chapters of this Cable/Deadpool Highschool AU fic... 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12.
“Weasel, Weasel! We have to get out of here!”
“Leave me alone to die.”
Outside of Marvel High, Bob was unsuccessfully trying to get Weasel a safe distance away from the school. There were alarms going off, students dashing about everywhere, teachers shouting for organization, and a general chaotic ruckus. Throughout it all, Weasel sat at the ground and stared at the sky. Bob was seriously getting worried.
“Oh, do you want me to turn up the volume on the Elvis music?” asked Bob, “Let you wallow in your jealousy?”
Weasel looked around at Bob, and merely said, “Wow, that didn’t sound like you at all.”
“C’mon, it’s dangerous out here,” said Bob, “I’m sure Wade’ll come and talk to you soon, I told him you were feeling a bit, uh, third wheel…y.”
“You told him? You told him? You didn’t tell him about the file on the computer, did you?”
“Um, no, I wasn’t trying to-“
There was a loud crash as the roof collapsed. There was a sudden stunned silence as everybody looked around, and soon there was loud voices and shouts, as the students started to panic even more. Bob gasped.
“Omigawd, Wade went back inside—“
Weasel looked back, a little worried but said, “He’ll be fine. Nothing can hurt him.”
Wade was saved not by his healing powers, but by Nate’s telekinesis, which shielded them from the collapsing of the roof. Nate pushed the bricks and dust off of them, and they crawled out, watching as objects started to circle Jean.
“It’s too early,” muttered Nate, “It wasn’t supposed to happen yet…”
Wade patted Nate on the shoulder and said, “Don’t worry, I wasn’t expecting the end of the Writer’s Strike so soon either. I like reality tv.”
“Wade, listen to me,” said Nate, “for two seconds. I’m from the future.”
“I know, I read your comic,” said Wade.
Nate ignored him and continued, “I was sent back to prevent the Phoenix Force from causing Jean Grey to go, er, catastrophic. She was supposed to go crazy when she was in college, but recent events just shifted the timeline. I need to stop her, but in order to do that I have to reach her... the item I need is back at my apartment.”
“Then why don’t we bodyslide?”
“She’s causing too much destruction; I need to stay here to make sure she doesn’t kill anyone.”
“Curses,” said Wade, shoving a fist into his hand, “If only we had some other form of teleportation!”
“I can help,” said Kurt Wagner, who had been there most of the conversation but had not been mentioned by the author for dramatic tension.
“Hey, you haven’t even turned up since the first chapter!” protested Wade.
“Wade, it’s this little pendant shaped like a bird, it should be inside my copy of Hitchhiker’s…”
“You hid something in your copy of Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy? That is so cool! I love you!”
Another crash caused Nate to wince, but he still smiled and said, “I love you too. Now, my apartment is #201, in #87 Lee Lane.”
Kurt nodded as Wade grabbed him by the shoulder and said, “C’mon, my blue Chekhov’s Teleporter.”
They disappeared in a puff of blue smoke, and appeared outside the door of Nate’s apartment. Wade decided to not mention the implications of this development concerning the way Kurt’s powers worked in the comics. He pushed open the door which was surprisingly open, though Wade thought he saw a glimpse of blue sparkles around the lock.
“Is this your friend’s apartment?” asked Kurt, peering around the door, “It is very clean.”
“’Cause there’s nothin’ in it,” said Wade, carelessly tossing Nate’s few belongings all over the place, “Aha, here’s the thingamajig. Let’s go.”
Kurt grabbed his shoulder and they teleported back. There was a large telekinetic battle going on in the air that used bricks and chairs from the school as missiles. Kurt looked around and spotted his friend Warren Worthington III, who had released his bright white wings and was avoiding flying chalk erasers.
“Warren!” cried Kurt, just before he was knocked out by one of the weapons of choice.
“Well that’s really inconvenient,” said Wade slyly, “Lucky you’re here, eh?”
“Why are you looking at me like that?” asked Warren, a little frightened by Wade’s expression.
“Nate!” shouted Wade seconds later as Warren flew him up, “I have the thingy!”
Nate looked around with a thrilled expression, and cried, “Great! Throw it to me, then distract her!”
“How?” Wade shouted back.
“You’ll think of something!” said Nate with a wink as he caught the deux ex machina.
Wade distracted her the only way he knew how, and for delicacy, and to keep this fic friendly-rated, I will not divulge the specifics. Let us just say that if Jean was in her right state of mind, she would probably be scarred for life. As it is, Nate managed to successfully get the necklace around Jean’s neck.
Jean collapsed, unconscious, and Nate floated down. Everybody was exhausted. Cyclops was unconscious, as was Emma Frost, even though she wasn’t even there. For some odd reason, most of the students had blurry memories of the events and couldn’t quite explain it to the authorities. Mr. Xavier kept on glaring at Nate, who lay on the ground and stared at the sky. Wade lay with him and contemplated how useless his cookies turned out to be. Suddenly, Nate sat up and looked at Wade.
“Wade, you should talk to Weasel,” he said.
“I know,” said Wade, not saying much as his thoughts had moved on to the way Nate’s hair fell across his face.
“But, before you do, I have to tell you something.”
“Expose away,” said Wade.
“I have to leave. I was supposed to nullify the phoenix force, and I did. I have to back to the future.”
“No way! You have to stay here so we can watch porn and have more slashy adventures!”
Nate fell back onto the ground, and snorted. He loved the way Wade talked.
“If I hadn’t met you, maybe she wouldn’t have turned so quickly. But if I hadn’t met you, I wouldn’t care so much about leaving.”
“Thought that sort of thinkin’ was best left up to bad history scholars.”
“You really should talk to Weasel, now that all the cards are on the table.”