The second fateful meeting of our heroes. How does Cable think it goes? Better, or worse than the first?

Morning started for Cable with more weapons prep and a little de-hangovering energy drink he always carried around with him. Mostly for other people, but on the occasion he needed it himself, he was glad he had it.

Today was a day where having a clear head would help. Like most days, but extra so this day. After all: a super max, mutant-convict-moving convoy wasn't gonna be easy to break into. Especially not while it was rolling through the middle of the city. But that was also where Cable'd get his best, clearest shot at the kid. Because the guards would be more distracted, looking for danger in every direction well enough that it would take a while for enough of them to notice his incursion for them to have a chance at stopping him.

Cable had it on good authority —namely the inane, incessant news coverage coming at him from every angle— exactly which location the prisoners were being moved to. That made it a fairly simple matter to put his ability to read a fucking map to use and figure the most likely route the convoy would travel.
Then it was simple strategy to get himself perched in the perfect place for intercept and 'disposal'. Extreme prejudice warranted.

So he hid, and he waited, and when the convoy approached, his muscles, techno and organic alike, bunched and he hopped that train with barely a hitch.
Unfortunately, something that he hadn't accounted for was waiting for him, between the rows of convicts: an extremely lucky, exceedingly skilled in hand to hand, woman who'd beaten him to the punch.

What Cable wondered, as the athletic aficionado somehow maneuvered herself into an improbable configuration around his neck, was why in God's name he'd now had to fight two completely separate people for his right to kill the monster who'd ravaged his world. It was their Future too. You'd think someone would have gotten the hint by now.

"You go girl!" Cable heard from the open back of the transport, not far off.

The lady hanging from his neck exchanged words with the interloper while Cable focused on finding a way to pry her off before he started suffering oxygen deprivation. Thankfully, it turned out an unnecessary worry on his part.

When the choking pressure around his throat let up and the born brawler with the righteous hair bounced for the front of the vehicle, Cable turned to assess the new threat.
Hm. Mostly red, a dash of black, and one hundred percent dead if he tried to get between Cable and his ending of the evil mutant who'd terrorized his timeline.

When the red bodysuited weirdo who was probably working with the woman who'd —even though she didn't look military— actually somehow stood a sliver of a chance against his years of combat training and experience in the field stepped forward, it was straight into an instinctive salvo from a pistol Cable rarely remembered drawing. It just came to his hand when it was needed.
Which it turned out, was indeed now. Because this freak was most certainly a mutant of some kind. What with the way he was able to cut through or slap away the first few rounds with the swords he pulled from holsters on his back. Then, his body ate the rest of them when he started just waving his shiny sticks around seemingly without any purpose. Like he was trying to show off as opposed to stopping the bullets.
Weird.

"Look, sugar plumb, I love getting shot at in front of the open back door of a screaming metal death trap just as much as the next spandex clad antihero, but maybe we can find us a pen and paper and make this much easier?"

"Make what 'easier'?" Cable asked. Reloading his pistol on autopilot while he wracked his brain to place that oh-so familiar voice.

"You giving me your digits."

Wait, Cable thought as his fingers spasmed around his gun. That annoying cadence; that flirtatious attitude. It couldn't be. The guy from the prison was dead, so...

"Pretty sure you were just trying to give me your number, sweet cakes. And I was trying to take it down, but I'm pretty sure my katana got in the way and-"

Before Cable realized it, he'd shot another handful of holes through the zombie at the back of the transport. Then found himself transfixed as the red clad sound-alike pinwheeled his arms and just barely stopped himself from falling out the opening to the busy street behind. And his second doom.

When Red didn't fall to his gruesome death, Cable remembered why it was he was there in the first place: to stop a decades long, murderous, flaming rampage before it started.
Too bad he'd allowed himself to get distracted by the clown in the caboose though, because now the guy was flush up against him and asking some non sequitur about whether nine follows six.

Cable knew that, when in a confrontation with dangerous types, one of the best favors you can do yourself is make the lowlife know you're in charge. So he let out a low growl and took control of the situation by telling the ruffian exactly what for.
"Fuck off, you red waxed piece of Swiss cheese," he said, realizing near the end that his pistol was sandwiched thoroughly between his and his... opponent's thighs.
He couldn't squeeze off a round without chancing shooting his own leg, and if that happened, there was no way he'd ever succeed at his mission. So no pistol till he broke that clinch.

When the gibbering guy crushed against him seemed most distracted by his own words, Cable snagged the closest hand he could get a hold of, and summarily snapped the arm in a couple places. Having remembered that that had been ever so slightly more effective than shooting the guy, back in the prison anyway.
The dislocation at the end was a nice touch and bought him the extra seconds he needed to reach the cell and- Damn it!

"Looking for someone?" Asked a two hundred pound red sack of wasted resources from where it'd launched itself onto his back.

"Yeah. Not you, asshole," Cable gritted out as he compensated his stance to account for the sudden extra weight.

From there, they tussled, Cable might've stabbed the guy, the guy might've wrapped him up like a mummy in his powerful embrace; it was all a bit of a high octane blur.
Probably the thing that blurred it all out the worst though, was the world ending crash that sent the entire transport over the brand new edge of the freeway and down to a cinder block and concrete grave. One Cable had to extract himself from and was going to be picking pieces of out of his servos for no less than a week.

Though he knew the peace keepers —'coppers' in this time, he believed— would be there at any given moment, Cable took the time for a few recuperative breaths and allowed himself to survey the scene.
It was a horrible tragedy. The citizenry wouldn't be able to use that stretch of roadway for as long as it took modern repair technology to put it back together again and by the looks of things: that was going to be a while.

His eye was also caught by the worrying shimmer of a sizable pool of dark liquid which sat alone amidst the wreckage. Along with a few feet of what appeared to be human intestines and other sundry scraps of viscera.

It looked suspiciously like someone had been gutted there. And, seeing as there was no indication of a body having been dragged off and hidden, Cable took an educated guess as to the who in this situation.
But, knowing the spandexed weirdo the way he was getting to, wasn't a stretch to figure they'd be seeing each other again. Soon.

Time to take some preventive measures.

Poor Cable isn't catching any breaks with this. Hopefully he figures out soon that he doesn't need to be cruel to be kind! Wade likes him just the way he is!