|Fic: The Epic Cable and Deadpool Time Traveling Fic (Part I) (Cable/Deadpool) PG-13
||[Aug. 10th, 2008|02:23 pm]
Cable x Deadpool
Title: The Epic Cable and Deadpool Time Traveling Fic (Part I)
Characters: Cable & Deadpool
Rating: PG-13 (language)
Word Count: about 2,900
Disclaimer: Marvel pwns us all. And Cable and Deadpool.
Notes: This fic brought to you by gestalt1 and thief_chili And by copious back-and-forth commenting.
The whole Secret Invasion thing has finally been sorted out, in a slightly stupid, ret-con-y way that Wade in no way approves of. But he got to blow things up, and he had a pretty good artist working on that arc (Way is still no replacement for Fabian though...), so all in all, he can say he's happy. And not too many people died, and all the Skrull replacements were rescued from the spaceships, so whoop-de-doo, all is right with the world. It kinda makes him wish things were fucked up again. This...this is boring.
Dude, nothin' to do today; he's just stuck back in Manhattan, sitting on the purple couch (What? Purple couches are manly, dude. Manly like scooters!) and the phone ain't even ringin'. There's nothing good on TV (well there never is except when Bea's on, but he kinda wishes there was, today) and he's gone through four boxes of moo shoo pork and a bucket of rice from the take-out place down the street just to have something to do. (Man, that's lame. Makes me sound like a crazy pregnant woman or a depressed emo kid. Who's writing this shit?). He's got a pile of fortune cookies stacked like a mini-pyramid on the coffee table, and heck, what's one fortune cookie on your girlish figure when you've just eaten enough MSG to knock out the whole of Long Island?
Wade cracks the nearest cookie and stuffs it in his mouth before checking out the fortune:
Today, the voices of the past will greet you in joy and adulation. Your lucky number is 12, and your lucky color is blue.
Wade shakes his head. They really ought to let the guys who come up with this crap out in the sun more often.
He leans back in his chair and starts flicking through the channels. It would be a sin if Bea Arthur wasn't on at least one show somewhere on cable at all times, so by that logic, he just needs to find it. Well, either that, or get his butt over to the broadcasting station and start kicking ass until they put her on again.
"Strange disturbances in the skies over New York today..." one newsreader is saying as he jumps through the news channels.
"Don't caaaaaaaare," Wade drawls. Still no Bea. It's a crime, really it is.
"The mutant team the 'X-Men' were on hand..."
Wade narrows his eyes at the mention. They could at least have let him keep the Marvel Girl uniform. But whatever. That part of his life is over. No crazy Mutant-Messiah-Jesus messing with his life, and that's the way he likes it. Really.
Wade puts down the remote for a minute to grab another fortune cookie.
"By all reports," the newsreader continues, "mutant weather-witch Storm was responsible for the high winds and jagged lightning flashes near the lower West Side half-an-hour ago; but more disturbing were allegations that the cause of the altercation was rogue activity by the alleged "field leader" of the mutant group, best known as Cyclops."
Wade snorts. "One-eyed angst cushion," he mutters. "Probably gone crazy in the head, all, 'my wife, my clone, my diamond lover, I don't know how to choooooose!' As if we didn't all wish we had his woman problems. Huh, although it would be hard to choose...firey or frosty, who'd be most fun?"
He reaches to change the channel, just as video footage flashes on the screen. Storm, flying high above the trees; Cyclops, for some reason trying to blast her with his optics, and--a flash of steel and white as someone tackles the Emo Optic Wonder to the ground from the corner of the screen. Wade's hand pauses halfway to the remote.
It can't be. No. Way. Nate is dead, and he's just starting to see things. Too much MSG; it must be. The glimpse of metal is gone again. He wishes he had shelled out on TiVo so he could do a quick rewind-and-pause, ‘cos that can't have been what he thought it was.
The newsreader drones on, but he's not really listening anymore. He leans back, staring off into nothing. He should...go investigate this. Yeah. Not that he cares if Glowy-Eye is back. Obviously. But he should go check anyway. Just in case.
Wade glances at the TV again, tuning back in, but the newsreader is on to something else now, no more mentions of X-Men or mutants or anything helpful (not that he's really that interested. But anything to pass the time).
Suddenly, he's reaaaally feeling the need for a walk. Yeah. It's nice out. A cool breeze. A good stroll around the block and down the street and over to the lower West Side might be just the thing. He hitches up his favorite boxers, the ones that say "peeking duck" with ol' Donald looking mischievously up towards the crotch, and strolls over to his clean uniforms. ...His relatively clean uniforms. OK, so he hasn't done laundry in a few weeks. Whatever, no one's gonna take notice of the slight eau de Deadpool when they see him walking towards them with his sais out.
You would think folks would be more wary of spandex-clad people walking the streets, but then, Wade reflects, the Marvel public never has been very smart. Or they're just used to it by now. Plenty heroes in NY. Villains too, though he can't really count himself into either of those groups. He's just the friendly neighbourhood merc. Well, maybe not so friendly, but that isn't the point.
He heads over to the West Side. The sky is still looking pretty stormy, he notes. Those X-types are just lazy; can't even be bothered to get rid of the things they are responsible for. The weather forecasters must really hate Storm. She's still hot though.
Anyway, he's just taking a walk. It's not like he's going to look, or poke his nose around or anything. Maybe he'll stop off at the 7/11 for a few cans of Mountain Dew and a few bags of chips.
Ahh, Mountain Dew. Wade steps into the convenience store and heads towards the cold cases. (Cold Case - dude, that was a terrible show. I never thought I could be bored by serial killers before that!) Ooh, lots of Dew! And they've got Supernova, yay! Wade is so glad it won the hearts of Dew-lovers everywhere. None of that blue crap for him. He hasn't been too fond of almost any shade of blue since that whole One World Church debacle. Which he doesn't want to think about now. He grabs a couple of 'Novas and heads to the counter.
"How much?" he asks.
The guy at the register starts at the gravelly voice. "Uh, uh, free for costumes!" he replies, eyeing the masked man and his katanas warily. "No charge! Enjoy!"
Well, cool. Seems the spandex does have its uses, apart from just looking super-cool and showing off his chiseled physique. He stuffs the bottles into a bag, grabs a chocolate bar from the box sitting on the counter, waves a cheery goodbye to register-man and heads off again. He rolls up his mask over his nose and tears the candy bar open with his teeth. Mmm-mmmmm, chocolate.
The pretty bruise-colours above New York have faded by the time he reaches (just passing by, just passing by) the site of the 'disturbance’. He looks around, still munching on the last of the chocolate. He'd expected something a bit more...impressive. No sign of One-Eyed Emo Boy, or anyone else for that matter. Seems everyone's decided to hide indoors. Well, maybe he'll just have a little look around. Just out of curiosity, you understand. Not like he's looking for anyone.
Some little dude is standing on the street corner scribbling away in a notebook. Wade taps him on the shoulder and he turns around.
"GYAAAH!" the guy yells as he backs up, trips over his feet, and falls down. "Go away go away go AWAY! I've had enough of you masked freaks today!"
Wade shrugs. "Chill, freakboy. I'm not gonna stab you or maim you or nothin'. ...Well, unless you piss me off, that is. Or don't answer my questions. Or, come to think of it, make a face I don't like. So, y'know - what happened here?"
"Well..." The little guy is pretty much backed up against the wall now. "I got here about halfway through, so I'm not sure exactly what set all this off, but that leader of the X-Men, what's-his-name..." He gestures vaguely at his eyes. "The one with the visor. He had gone completely insane. Was rampaging around down here firing those lasers of his at the buildings, screaming something about a phoenix. I've no idea what that was about."
Wade nods, and motions for him to hurry up and tell the damn story. Exposition is all very well, but he doesn't want to be here all day.
"Uh... so then their big jet comes soaring overhead, and that African chick, Storm, comes out of the bottom of it, and another group of muties... uh, I mean... X-Men... They come running along the street and this massive battle starts up. There's lasers shooting everywhere, and lightning, and rain, and I mean, I wasn't about to stay out in the open, I'm not crazy, so I took cover in one of the stores."
Wade is getting impatient. "Yeah, yeah, yeah, okay so fighting, explody stuff. Did you see a big guy, really tall, metal arm, glowy eye? Hard to miss.”
"Oh, yeah, him." The guy says, relieved he can properly answer a question. "He came out of nowhere, I swear, he just appeared. Leapt at that Cyclops guy and took him down until the others could grab him. Then he just disappeared again."
"Whaddaya mean, 'disappeared'?" Wade asks, feeling inexplicably annoyed. "Like 'pouf' like a magic trick disappeared, or like, 'ran away down an alley crying like a pansy child' disappeared? Or, like, 'swooped off in a jet with those other mutant feebs' disappeared?"
"Look, man, I don't know. Like...popped out of existence disappeared. Although I think I did hear someone crying like a little child right before he went..."
"Huh. Well it probl'y wasn't Nate crying - never seen that big mook shed a tear but twice. Thanks, dude."
Wade wanders off down the street, glancing around and muttering to himself. "I coulda sworn he was--no one sees him for a year or more, and now--where the hell did he go?"
This whole thing is making Wade kinda pissed off. Who gave Nate the right to be all mysterious like this, just disappear like that - he had thought he was dead - and now 'poof' he appears, saves the day in that annoying way of his, and leaves again. What's he been doing all this time, that's what Wade wants to know. Big putz.
He finds a bench where he can sit down and drink one of his 'Novas. New York is pretty quiet after all the X-nonsense. "Well this sure is boring," he says aloud, swigging from the bottle.
For no reason at all, Wade's thinking about that whole One World Church thing again. Maybe it's the pink Dew. (It beats the blue Dew, for sure!) He's remembering when Nate changed the world, blue to pink, and what happened after--
"Waitaminute!" he says, jumping up. "Hah, I know how to figure out if Nate really is back! Not that...not that it matters, really. Just professional curiosity, right? I mean, I gotta know what other potential mercs are swimming in my pool'a work, even if he did give up the guns-for-hire gig for awhile. I bet that's why he's back! Trying to horn in on my territory! Probably saw the way I kicked Skrull ass and got all jealous and shit. I KNEW IT. How dare he! That's it, I gotta go kick his ass now!"
Wade pulls out his katanas and takes a deep breath:
"Bodyslide by one."
Suddenly he's in a big lump of flailing arms and legs. There's screaming, and crying, and flashes of techno-organic flesh, and man, does this all feel very, very familiar.
"WAAAAADE!" roars Cable, as the two pull themselves apart into two bodies instead of one. "Why the hell didn't you bodyslide by two???"
Wade shrugs and looks at Cable, who's standing there with his hands on his hips looking just like the last time Wade saw him - big and buff and shiny, with that stupid glowy eye and the other one, bright blue with little scars radiating out like a child's drawing of the sun, and that ridiculously bleach-white floppy hair.
"I'm sadistic," he says with a nasty grin.
Nate rolls his eyes and looks disapproving, which isn't really much of a surprise. But that's when Wade notices the kid. He blinks. Well. That's surreal.
"Yo Nate," he asks, "Why the hell do you have a baby?"
Nate rubs the back of his neck, looking somewhat embarrassed. "Ah. About that..."
Wade crouches down to have a closer look at the brat. It's lying in a little cocoon of blankets on the table. Looking around, he guesses this must be where Nate's living right now. The kid looks at him with big eyes and tries to grab his finger when he reaches over to poke at it. Not a figment of his over-active imagination, then.
"She's... um. I'm looking after her." Nate explains, picking the kid up and cradling it in his techno-organic arm. Wade raises an eyebrow.
"She doesn't look a whole lot like you, does she?” says Wade. “I'm thinkin' if babymama told you she was yours, she was blowin' smoke outta her ass."
The tiny girl peers at him through the tangle of red curls that surrounds her tear-stained face. "Neigh?" she says softly.
"Also she may have been a horse." Wade snorts. "And here I thought I had weird taste in women."
"She's not mine, you ass," Nate grumbled. "And that's how she says my name."
"Well if she's not yours, why do you have her?" Wade asks. This is a perfectly logical question, he thinks.
"Because a lot of people were trying to kill her, and I was kind of the only option." Nate explains, allowing the kid to grab his other hand and start sucking on his fingers. Wade wrinkles his nose. Baby saliva. Ewww.
"Uh-huh," he says, "so you've been carting her around after you for how long now?"
Nate sighs. “About a year and some, now. We’ve been on the run a lot.”
He looks a bit worn, now that Wade thinks about it. He keeps staring at Nate. To see what kind of shape he’s in, of course. Assess his potential as a threat, maybe. ...Hair’s a bit shaggy, kinda like a sheepdog, heh; herding the kid around like one too, he thinks. Tiredness in his eyes... “You look like hell,” he says cheerfully.
“Yeah, Nate says ruefully. “ I bet.” He puts the rugrat down on the ground, where she wobbles to a standing position. With hesitant steps she wanders towards the table leg and holds on, watching Wade with those big eyes. Nate’s watching him too, his blue eyes steady on Wade’s mask. It’s kinda awkward.
“So...why’re you here, Wade?” he asks.
“I thought you were dead,” Wade blurts out, at almost the same time.
There's an awkward silence for a few seconds before Nate says softly, "I'm sorry about that, Wade."
"I wasn't, like, bothered or anything," Wade insists. "It would just have been nice to know, y'know?"
"Things were moving too fast. I meant to tell you, but I was too busy running... Wade, if you thought I was dead, why did you try the bodyslide?”
“Oh, that’s easy,” Wade replies. “I thought I saw you on TV today, and I knew if you were still around, you’d reconstruct the Professor first time you could, you sentimental mook. So I figured I’d give it a try, and if it didn’t work...well, then I’d be pretty sure I was just seein’ things.”
“I guess you know me too well.” Cable says, a funny little smile on his face. “Most of my tech is done for, but I managed to salvage a few things. I put the Professor back together as soon as I could manage it.” Then he looks more serious. “I am sorry, Wade. I should have let you know.”
Wade gives a disdainful snort. “Hey, like I said; I wasn’t bothered or anything. Just curious.” Nope. Not bothered in the slightest. Why would he care what happened to a stuck-up Mutant Messiah anyway? "Well, you're back now," he says optimistically.
“Yeah. I’m back. And actually, I could...I could kind of use some help. If you’re not too busy these days.” Nate looks inquiringly at him as the little red-haired ankle-biter starts wobbling towards Wade’s leg.
“What? The Great Nate, asking for help?” Deadpool looks around theatrically. “Is the sky falling? Is the world ending?”
“Well actually, it might be. If the people who want to get their hands on this little girl have their way.” He nods down at the little rugrat, who’s reaching for Deadpool’s leg. She touches him, and there’s a weird flash, and then--everything goes dark.