Thank you to all my lovely reviewers and followers. You guys are so motivating! Here is the next chapter. Hope you enjoy! Happy 12/12/12
Chapter 7
The discussion with the voice in my head is abruptly interrupted by the voices on the outside of my head. Wade is looking at me like I'm the crazy one, which is both ironic and slightly disturbing. I immediately wonder how long I was staring off into space, talking to the Cajun in my head. Man, I really need to find out what this guy's name is. It's important to have names for all the voices. Keeps things organized.
Colonel Sanders has come back into the room and has apparently been talking to me for some time. Oops. I glance over at Erik who seems to find the situation very amusing, but underneath that condescending smirk I can see that I've given something away. Shit. I think he might know that I'm "linked in."
"I see that you seem to be recovering well enough." That's Janet, damn it. "What can you tell me about your abnormal brain readings?"
I look at her incredulously. Well, at least I know they are too stupid to have been monitoring our most recent conversation. Good to know. They suck at this!
"Nothin'. Didn't know I had an abnormal brain. What's the prognosis doc? Is it a tumor?"
Wade goes for it…Dork.
"It's nad a tuma."
Passable imitation of Arnold Schwarzenegger. I clap. Wade smiles. Sanders growls. Really? Who growls? My cat growls, but only when he's horny…Ew, Sanders, keep that to yourself!
"Really, I didn't know I had abnormal brain waves. I thought my brain waved just like everyone else, ya' know. Elbow elbow, wrist wrist?"
Wade cracks up at that but Janet and Sanders do not look amused. Figures. At least no one's hit me with anything yet so I continue.
"Mr. Wilson has been so kind as to catch me up on why he needs to be 'stabilized' as you say. Now, I'm sure you already know that I'm a psychologist…(blank stares, really?)…or not. Okay, I may be a psychologist but I'm not licensed and I'm not really sure what you want me to do with Wade's brand of crazy."
Wade smiles and I smile back and say, "Besides, I'm kind of a fan." His grin gets bigger and I don't even chance a look at the wonder twins i.e., Sanders and Janet.
"That being said, it sounds like the metastasizing tumors are the real issue. Am I right?"
"That is the immediate issue, yes." Janet has a sour look on her face. Her mousey brown hair is pulled back into the most stereotypical overworked doctor-bun I have ever seen. There's no way this girl is ever making it on to Gray's Anatomy. Her eyes are hard as she regards me and I'm starting to wonder if they were expecting me to be some all-powerful super mutant. I hope that's not what they were expecting. Lemme check.
"Were you expecting me to be some kind of all-powerful super mutant?"
Never let it be said that I don't say what I'm thinking. Janet and Sanders have the good grace to look chagrined at my identification of what is clearly becoming a serious flaw in their plan for world domination. At this point, I really want to ask which of them is Pinky and which is the Brain, but I restrain myself…barely.
"Okay kiddies. I can get started on the 'cancer' issue and see if I can make any progress. Are we working on some kind of timeline here? I've never done something like this before but I would like to know approximately how much time I have before G.I. Joe over there starts pistol-whipping me again for 'motivation'."
I so put that in air quotes and then rub my hands together like Mr. Miagi. Cancer on…cancer off. How hard can it be, right? Guh, I'm so screwed.
Sanders and Janet both looked shocked at my easy acquiescence to their plan. So does Wade for that matter and I reach over to squeeze his hand. Not gonna punish the pretty boy because his bosses are poster children for anti-breeding initiatives. Erik looks at me with his patented evil genius calculating stare. That's impressive…Gandalf.
"I want to see progress by the end of the week or we may find ourselves without a use for you anymore."
Sanders attempts an evil smirk with this but seriously, we're all in a room with Magneto. Sanders doesn't have the mojo to pull it off and ends up looking a bit constipated. I also keep that comment to myself…for now. I bet Wade would love it. I can tell, me and this kid, we could get in a whole lot of trouble together. Sanders appears to want a response, so I oblige.
"Sure thing. Any other requests?" Why the hell did I just ask that? Mystique clearly wants to face-palm and I don't blame her. I was doing so well!
"We'll keep it to curing cancer for now, sweetheart. If I think of anything else, I'm sure you'll be the first to know."
With that ominous comment, Sanders, Janet and the Commandos Four leave the room and I take a moment to observe. Each of the commandos has the big guns, along with what appear to be a standard issue military sidearm. One of them is toting a taser = rude. They each have a knife tucked in to a boot. Their BDU's are pure black with tac vests to match. They really look like something straight out of a movie.
They must not be worried about Magneto getting his sexy back with all that metal they're sporting. And they don't seem to be overly cautious about identification-controlled entrance and exits, which means they've counted Mystique out of the mix as well. Honestly, I don't really know why I keep counting them in but my instincts are screaming at me that those two have more to offer than the average human. I'll keep that thought to myself for now, at least until I have supporting evidence.
I let myself tune in again and reach out to my cussing Cajun. I abruptly realize that I don't know how to summon him. Awkward…
"Um, Mr. Cajun voice in my head…are you still there?"
Smooth like silk, that's me.
I hear a chuckle in my head and feel a rush of relief that I haven't lost this strange but somehow necessary connection to the outside world.
"I am here, cheri. But you, you are in a bad way. Three Mile Island, it is no place for mon petit chaton. Are you in a safe place, cheri?"
"Um, not really. We're in a base and they want me to cure cancer by the end of the week, which I can't do by the way, but I implied I could to buy us time because I really do think they'd kill me if they realized that I'm not much use to their plan and I don't even know what day it is so I don't really know how much time I have because I passed out for a while because they tased me which sucked and then threw me in the Trouble Truck and then hit me in the head with a rifle butt and then punched me and then I passed out from dehydration and I still don't feel good and I'm scared. Help?"
That was the most bizarre mental rant I have ever had. I really hope this Cajun guy is real because it's kinda nice to be able to talk to someone else in my head and only have one person hear my crazy at a time.
I feel suddenly overcome with rage, worry and a fierce desire to protect. It takes me a moment to realize that these emotions are not coming from me, but from my unknown Cajun and I can't help but feel comforted by his desire to defend me.
"Ma petit, this is no good. I will get some help and get you out. You said 'we.' There are other mutants with you, cheri?"
I smile to myself at his decisive response and don't bother to spare a thought at what this might look like to the other three corporeal people with me right now. That secret is out; I'll deal with the fall out after I've arranged the getaway car.
"Yes, Mystique and Magneto are here but they were 'cured' so I don't think they'll be much help at this point. There's the mutant they want me to help, Wade and they keep calling him Weapon IX or Deadpool."
"Mon dieu, Weapon IX lives? How is this possible…no matter. You must stay away from him, ma fée, he is very dangerous. You must not help him. He was created to hunt and destroy mutants. He will hurt you!"
I look at Wade. He just looks like a regular puppy on meth to me. His glittering brown eyes are watching me with an innocent curiosity that I really don't think he should be capable of. I'm not stupid. I know those muscles aren't just for show and he did say earlier that his weapon of choice is a katana. Still, a mutant hunter? I wonder if that was the programming he spoke of earlier. Is that what the Weapon IX program is all about? Creating a super mutant to hunt down and kill the rest of us? Holy Shit!
"Holy Shit!"
I say that out loud and it echoes in the cavernous concrete tomb.
"Who are you talking to?" Wade asks, his head cocked to the side like the RCA dog. So cute!
I hazard a glance at Erik and Mystique and briefly wonder how long I've been the center of attention. The thought is quickly chased away by my Cajun's warning. Seconds ago, I hadn't seen a single thing wrong with helping Wade get a grip but now… I don't know.
What if by getting him "back on line", it really means that the Weapon IX programming will kick back in again. Can I run the risk of trying to help him, only to have him turn on the three of us? The reason behind Erik and Mystiques presence suddenly hits me like a fist to the gut.
After I "fix" Wade, they'll want to test him out. And who better to cut him loose on than two of the world's most notorious anti-human mutant crusaders. Oh my god. They're here as lab rats; pigs for the slaughter. My nausea from earlier returns in a rush and my head throbs with the reality of our situation.
I turn away from Wade and rest my head in my hands. How has this become my life? Seriously, my six-figure student loans sound like a dream compared to this. I wish I could take comfort in the idea that I simply can't cure Wade, but the fact is; I just might.
There is such a thing as sonic surgery, my mutation is founded in the control and manipulation of sound waves and, given enough motivation, I might actually be able have an impact on the tumors. I don't know how much and I don't know how long it would last before new metastasized cells take the place of the old ones but…still. I could do this.
"Hey…hey, firefly?" Wade grabs my arms and tries to make eye contact. As much as I like looking at him, I don't know if I can right now.
"Hey, it's gonna be okay, okay? We'll figure this out. Everyone talks to themselves every once in a while. It doesn't mean you're crazy, right? I mean…well…it might but you seem pretty normal for a mutant. Uhh, I mean, you are just talking to yourself, right?"
I look up to see Wade eyeing me warily and Erik has started to chuckle. I would laugh with him but I know why he's here and suddenly nothing is really that funny to me.
"The Weapon IX program was meant to create a mutant hunter."
There, I said it. As predicted, the room is silent and Wade takes a step back.
"Who the fuck are you talking to?"
Wade looks nervous now but not in the way that makes me think he's been caught being naughty. Oh, Oh! Poor baby.
"Wade, I'm not a telepath." (I think?)
"Oh, well umm, that's good then."
"Wade?"
"Yeah?" Baby still looks so nervous. I don't blame him.
"Is that what the Weapon IX Program is for? Mutant hunting?"
He breaks eye contact and starts to walk backward, away from me. The hurt in his eyes is plane and it breaks my heart.
"You're not going to help me, are you?" He sounds resigned and I just…can't do that to him.
"I am going to help you, if I can. I guess what I'm really asking is, if this does work, and I do help you, does that mean your 'programming' is going to kick in and you'll kill us?"
"What?! No! No, I'm not going to hurt you. You get me back on line and I'll get us four the fuck out of here and that's it. I won't let them reactivate my programming. I just won't. I like mutants. Mutants are fun. Mutants are cool. Some of them are really hot like you and Mystique; though I do prefer you when you're blue (he turns to Mystique for that and she smiles and winks). I don't want to hurt my own kind. Actually, now that I look at you two, why the hell are you here?"
"I believe our young lady has figured that out before the rest of us." Erik gestures to me to explain. Fine!
"I think Sanders brought them here for you to kill in your practice run after your programming has been reactivated. I think they'll keep me alive long enough to make sure the cancer is really gone and that you are under control and then they'll order you to kill me, too."
Wade looks positively heartbroken at my announcement while Erik only nods his head in agreement with my assessment of our situation. Mystique, on the other hands, looks pissed. Like, rip someone's heart out, stomp on their corpse with Alexander McQueen stiletto's pissed. Hmm, it's a good look on her.
"You're hot when you're angry."
Really?! Out of all the comments I've kept to myself today, that's the one I let slip. Typical.
Wade barks out a laugh while Erik actually seems to snicker behind his hand, desperate to hide the smile that's forcing its way across his lips. I wait for my inevitable death by small, seemingly innocuous object, but it doesn't happen. I realize that I've closed my eyes and tensed up for the death blow and recognize how ridiculous that is. Tensing up will only make it hurt more.
I look up at Mystique to see her actually fighting back laughter. Oh thank goodness. Looks like I'm not going to die…yet.
"Anyway," I blurt out, hoping to avoid more ridiculousness (unlikely). "I'll give it my best shot but I really haven't done anything remotely like healing with my mutation and this place isn't exactly the Zen atmosphere in which I'm used to working with my abilities. As for who I'm talking to…well, I'm not telling…so…so there!"
I take the moment to turn back to my Cajun.
"Really dude, what the heck is your name. I really need to stop calling you 'my Cajun'."
"Ah, ma petit. You call me 'my Cajun'? I like that you have claimed me already. Perhaps, I will not give you my name and you will have to keep doing so, hm? Non? Well then, I am Rémy, Rémy LeBeau. But you can call me Gambit, ma cheri."
French Translations:
cheri = darling
mon petit chaton = my little kitten
ma petit = my baby
mon dieu = my god
ma fée = my fairy
Non = no
