A/N: Thank you so much to everyone who has read this story so far! I have, like, 0 idea of how telepathy works, even though I've read the Wiki about it like 10 times, so I apologize for any errors I have made. Now, since I've started watching The Flash, I was thinking of doing a cross-over with that particular show, featuring our favorite moody teen, Ellie Phimister. I'll let everyone know once I've fleshed out a proper plot. Enjoy the new chapter - Reviews, favorites and subscriptions are appreciated!
The moment the jet touches down, Colossus is already striding down the ramp. Ellie takes her time sauntering out of The Blackbird, popping a piece of the protein bar into her mouth. Her eyes take in the scene with a wince. Ellie walks over to Colossus, picking her way over tangled limbs and sheets of twisted metal, careful not to step on the patches of dried blood that cover the asphalt. Some of the puddles are still slick and shiny, and all Ellie can smell is smoke, acrid chemicals, burning plastics, the pungent smell of ammonia and charred flesh.
The pain almost doubles her over. It feels like hot pokers piercing her eyes. Flashes of each person's life plays like disjointed movie trailers in her mind. Ed is getting married in a week. Ryan golfs to get away from his wife. Stefan's little sister has been in a car accident, and is in critical condition. Ellie sees fronts of houses in every economic bracket, a horse barn, the sterile whiteness of a hospital room. Ooey-gooey macaroni and cheese, the slick fullness of egg noodles sliding down her throat, the heat of a family's secret recipe for red sauce that will never be passed on. Ellie tries to breathe through the nausea and pain, desperately trying to recall Miss Frost's classes.
"In some situations, people can project so intensely that you don't have to focus to read them. The key to stopping the influx of memories is to block them out. Put up a mental shield, so that you won't have to experience their pain, or their memories."
Focus, Phimister, focus, Ellie thinks, rubbing her temples. She tries to relax her shoulders and force oxygen into her uncooperative lungs. She visualizes a door, the twin polished doors that lead to the X-Mansion. She pulls them firmly shut, and locks the door for good measure. Her head clears and her heart calms. Her breath comes back; the pain recedes like a tide going back out. No more images and memories assault her mind, and her shoulders droop in relief, like flowers at dusk.
Colossus eyes her worriedly as she stumbles over to him. If her gait is a little unsteady, or her expression too pinched and wan, he doesn't comment. Ellie tries to focus on the task at hand, swaying ever so slightly as she looks up at Deadpool – Colossus had ranted angrily about the Mercenary on the way to the Cross Town Expressway, calling his actions 'reckless' and 'irresponsible'. The mercenary is at least a head taller than her, dressed in tacky red spandex with black accents.
"And you are?" Deadpool so rudely demands, and Ellie gives him the stink eye.
"Negasonic Teenage Warhead," She trots out, her words short and clipped as she pops a piece of protein bar into her mouth.
"Negasonic Teenage – What the shit? That's the coolest name ever!"
Deadpool's loud exclamation catches her off guard. She's expected him to make fun of her codename like Kitty Pryde had during their very first meeting – "Wow, we are so running out of codenames" – and she has to bite down on her bottom lip to hide her smile. She shrugs, not really able to reply with a mouthful of nuts and chocolate.
"So, what? You're like, his sidekick?"
It is Colossus who answers with a jerk of his chin. "No, trainee."
"So, lemme guess. X-Men left you behind on, what? Shit detail?" Deadpool shoots back, waltzing past the pair and over to the only survivor from the car crash. It isn't a pretty picture; the man's face is a swollen mass of blood, and he has been impaled to a wall, presumably to keep him from running away.
But surprisingly, he isn't projecting as intensely. Not a single twinge of pain in his thoughts. Amazingly enough, Ellie feels nothing . . . Nothing at all from him. Narrowing her eyes, she tries to delve in deeper. A face pops into her own mind – a man, his entire face marked with pocked, ridged scars. He might have once been handsome – in a rugged, Ryan Reynolds kind of way - but it is hard to tell under the wounds that make his flesh look like melted wax. The man is dressed in red spandex. Red spandex – Ellie flinches. The sensation that hits her is akin to a door slamming in her face. Suddenly, she is back in her own body, clenching her fists in a white knuckled grip. Slowly, deliberately, he raises his head. Stares right at her with a very nasty grin on his face. An icy fingernail skims down Ellie's spine.
Her legs quiver like Jell-O, and Ellie moves to sit wearily on top of the hood of a Chevrolet; it is relatively unscathed, saved for a dent in the hood and a blown out tire. Her feet dangle about a foot above the ground, drawing attention to her painfully short stature of five feet. She feels like she's just gone ten rounds with a T-Rex; her limbs ache and a headache lances her temples, but she isn't so out of it that she can't shoot back a snarky retort. "So what does that make you?"
"Pretending you're not here, Negasonic Teenage Warhead. Can we trade names?" The Merc with a Mouth punches the man in the face, and his victim spits out a wad of blood.
Gross.
Pointedly ignoring Deadpool, Ellie mutters, "Can we go?"
"Look, I'm a teenage girl." Swishing his hips in what is clearly supposed to be a seductive manner; Deadpool pretends to flip his hair, sashaying over to Ellie with a high-pitched, sugary sweet falsetto. "Oh, I'd rather be anywhere but here. I'm all about long sullen silences, followed by mean comments, followed by more silences. So, what's it gonna be, huh?"
Deadpool bends down to look her in the eyes, until there is only a whisper separating their faces. With a tilt of his red, spandex-covered head, he demands, "Long sullen silence, or mean comment? Go on."
Ellie's eyes meet Deadpool's; except, she stares into circles of white spandex, right where his eyes should be. The aches and pains ring a mental bell, reminding her that using any more of her powers might be fatal. As usual, Ellie ignores the warning, and tries to get inside Deadpool's head. She frowns. She can't get a read on him. Everything is fuzzy, and Ellie can't make anything out. Like sheets of water sluicing down a window pane, the inside of Deadpool's head is unclear, as much of a mystery to her as the man outside is. Like a tuning fork being stuck, a hum vibrates, gradually growing louder in volume and intensity, until Ellie can make out a phrase, repeated over and over again -
GET OUT GET OUT GET OUT -
There's a loud crack, and Ellie gasps, surprised to be back in her own body. It's odd to feel the heavy sensation of her arms and legs again. Someone seems to be hammering on her left temple from inside her skull. Ellie shakes her head to clear it; feeling fuzzy and disoriented. She's been able to get a read on anyone, able to sift through their memories for at least a few minutes before they realized she was in their head, but never before has she encountered a block of this nature.
After a minute or so of 'long, sullen silence' in which she tries to recover use of her vocal chords, Ellie admits sourly, ". . . You've kind of got me in a box here."
"Ah-Ha!"
Triumphantly, Deadpool shakes his hips and punches a fist in the air. Ellie watches him, dazed, and more than just a little tired. Sharp pain slices through her head, agonizing enough that Ellie whimpers. Using the sleeve of her jacket, she mops up the thick, red gush that doesn't seem to stop. Her hand trembles. She hopes Colossus doesn't notice.
"Negasonic!"
Oh, yeah. He's seen the blood.
"'M fine Colossus," Ellie says thickly, tasting iron in the blood that trickles into her mouth. "Can we just go home?"
Casting her one last anxious glance, Colossus' attention, for the time being, returns to Deadpool. "We can't allow this, Deadpool. Please, come along quietly."
"You big, chrome, cock gobbler! Are you really going to fuck this up for me? Trust me, that wheezing bag of dick tips has it coming! He's pure evil!" He flings a piece of scrap metal at Colossus, who mutters, "That's not nice."
Deadpool pauses mid-rant, flinging a hand out for emphasis. "Besides, nobody's getting hurt!"
The sickening crash has Ellie twisting around in her seat. She barely has time to catch a man's terrified expression, right before he crashes onto the road in a tangle of limbs. Ellie flinches. T.J. is planning to ask his pretty neighbor out. She tastes cream coating her throat and feels slick Mee Pok noodles sliding down to a pleasant fullness. She stares dryly at Deadpool, looking as deadpan as she possibly can – the effect is ruined slightly by the fact that she has to keep a firm hold on the bridge of her nose to staunch the bleeding.
"That guy was already up here when I got there!"
"Wade, you are better than this. Join us, and use your powers for good. Be a super hero!"
Ellie, for one, thought that Magneto had a better chance of asking the Professor out on a date. Colossus' lecture – or rallying cry – bounces harmlessly off Deadpool's ears, like acid rain running off the tightly sealed stomata on a leaf. Instead, the Mercenary picks up a stray piece of metal and cackles wildly as he flings it at the man pinned to the wall. Yeah, total hero material, Ellie thinks sarcastically.
"If I ever decide to become a crime-fighting shit swizzler, who rooms with a bunch of other little whiners at Neverland Mansion with some creepy, old, bald, Heaven's Gate-looking motherfucker... on that day, I'll send your shiny, happy ass a friend request!" Ellie still can't get a read on Deadpool, but she can clearly see the cloud of irritation surrounding him, pulsing against her like heat from a bonfire. "And until then, I'm gonna do what I came here to do! Either that, or slap the bitch out of you!"
"Wade –"
"Hey!" Ellie calls out, her eyes fixed on the man who removes the sword from his shoulder in one quick yank. He is on his feet and running before she can even blink.
"Zip it, Sinead!"
Ellie tries again. "Hey, Douche-Pool!"
This time, he actually turns around, pointing a finger at the man who isn't there anymore. "And I hope you're watching –"
His gasp of horror is almost comical. Ellie can feel the mingled shock and anger – but mostly anger – radiating off Deadpool, along with a curious tinge of despair. If she'd been able to read his thoughts, she might be able to piece together the reasons behind his volatile emotions, but seeing as how she's greeted with a blur when she tries, that is out of the question.
Colossus holds his hands up to pacify Deadpool. "Quite unfortunate –"
Deadpool's head swivels back and forth, from the empty spot and over to Colossus, before he lets out an angry yell, and goes for a right hook to Colossus' jaw. It would have given her mentor a nasty bruise – if he didn't have iron skin, a fact which Deadpool seems to have forgotten. Deadpool falls to the ground on his knees, his wrist flopping limply like a sack of skin, and Ellie cracks a smile.
"Wade, please –"
"Cock shot!" Next up is a hit to Colossus' nuts, which affects Deadpool more than it does to Ellie's mentor. There is a sickening crunch, and if Ellie isn't so grossed out by the fact that Colossus' scrotum is being used as a punching bag, she might have pulled her phone out to record it for prosperity. "Oh, your poor wife!"
"You really should stop –"Colossus warns.
"All the dinosaurs feared the T-Rex." Both wrists broken now, Deadpool falls back on his legs, aiming an axe kick at Colossus. Another crack later, Deadpool is lying on the ground, squealing in pain like a stuck pig. "Oh! Ah! I promise this gets worse for you, big boy!"
Ellie laughs. Colossus doesn't. "This is embarrassing. Please, stay down."
"You ever hear the one legged man in the ass kicking contest?" Deadpool makes a valiant effort, getting back up on his feet – foot - with some difficulty.
"Do you have off-switch . . .?"
"Yeah, it's right next to the prostate, or is that the on switch –"
"Enough!"
Ellie giggles. Deadpool is flung a good four feet away, glass shattering and buckling as his spine meets with the windshield of a car. Moaning and groaning, Deadpool doesn't seem the worse for the wear. Colossus marches over, clipping a handcuff to Deadpool's wrist and securing it to his own hand, in case the man in the spandex tries to make a break for it.
"Let us go talk to the Professor."
"McAvoy or Stewart? These time-lines are so confusing . . ."
Ellie tunes out Deadpool's nonsensical ramblings, and hops off the car. She wobbles, and nearly trips over a decapitated head. She looks away, stomach churning, and her legs buckle as a wave of dizziness floods her. Ellie shakes back burning, twirling fatigue. I have got to get to sleep earlier.
"I'm fine," Ellie says again, in response to Colossus' look.
"Negasonic, you should stop using your powers." Colossus warns, but drops the subject with a frown. "No more –" He waves his free hand around, trying – and failing – to describe her telepathic abilities.
"Yeah, yeah," Ellie mutters, right as her legs give out and she collapses to the ground.
The last thing she hears is a sickening squelch, and Colossus' exclamation of disgust, right before her eyes flutter shut.