[Blood & Tears: Phase 31] Going to War
Logan meets a Nate, Hope gives her people the sit-rep.
warnings: Movieverse (as-yet unnumbered Earth version; NOT Earth-616/Main Comicverse) with bits of the Wolverine Gameverse and B&T ficverse mushed onto it. incredible amounts of AU and technobabble. innuendo. mild violence. language: pg-13 (primetime tv plus s***, f***, and g**damn).
pairing: Logan/Wade (with hints of Nate/Wade).
timeline: other than "right after The Auditor," doesn't matter.
disclaimer: i doesn't owns the movies or the characters. or the assorted objects of pop culture reference.
notes: 1) ummmmmmm idk? XD;; i just realized i hadn't posted it this morning, so i'm kinda rushing it out before bed. lemme know if you need something explained.
visit The Fateverse Glossary for terms, concepts, Nodes, and important people.
Going to War
It was weird enough to find out that Wade’s brain really did wander through several dimensions every week, but being dragged along for the ride is taxing Logan’s patience. The timesliding process is unpleasant, the constant overload of technobabble makes his head hurt, and people keep pointing guns and swords at them (he’s got a hole and a bloodstain in his shirt, thanks to the blond guy that Wade’s ogled about a dozen times now).
Apparently, this Hope kid is a common factor in a lot of dimensions, because Wade seems to know her well (knew the older one at the Database, too). For the whole walk from where they slid in, they chum around like old friends. Logan tells himself it’s silly to be jealous of a teenage girl when Wade is so clearly smitten with him, but he can’t help himself. Hope has an easy way with Wade, knows how to make him laugh, understands all the nonsense about the Network. So Logan trails along in the back of the group, berating himself and listening for anyone likely to try to blow them up.
Occasionally, they pass people in futuristic white uniforms who pause to salute before hurrying on their way.
There are armed (and armored) guards flanking an important-looking door. Questions are asked, DNA and chronometric signatures are scanned.
“We don’t have the BT bundle logged in our secondary database,” one of the guards says. “So I’m afraid they’ll have to wait here until proper clearance can-”
Hope jabs a finger at the guy’s chest. “Listen, jackass, there’s five guys out there somewhere trying to re-tune each and every one of us and get their hands on Kali. Two of them are from the AP bundle, and I know we have that in the database. I’m the goddamn Auditor now, so you just let me and my friends pass before I shoot you in the foot. And I’m in a bad mood, so if you hold me up after that, it’ll be the knee next.”
“I’d listen to the gal,” Clint advises. “Her dad could snap you in half with his mind.”
Logan can smell misgiving on the guard, but he’s clearly afraid of Hope.
Slowly, Wade reaches out and claps a hand on the nervous guard’s shoulder. “I’ve got some bad news to deliver to Nate. If you’d like to deliver it yourself, I can stay out here.”
Without another word, the guard steps aside and opens the door (card, hand-scan, retina-scan).
The room on the other side of the door is big, filled with monitors and uniformed nobodies and important-looking people in suits or labcoats or regular clothes. In the middle is some kind of conference table with a big holographic projector built into it, showing what looks like a readout of the compound with the extent of power loss marked.
“Hey, look who I found!” Clint says loudly to the room at large.
A big guy breaks away from the knot of people strategizing at the table.
“Oh, joy,” Wade mutters drily. “Jamie, I think I mentioned that my usual boyfriend is seven feet tall and half metal.”
Logan grunts. “I think I remember something about a gigantic ego.”
The big guy is some indeterminate age between thirty and seventy, with white hair and pale eyes. He smells like steel and worry, and he folds Hope up in a hug that practically screams ‘concerned parent.’
Wade smells hostile; it makes Logan tense and wary.
“If you’re gonna worry that much,” Wade drawls, “you should probably keep a better eye on her. Maybe try a leash.”
The big guy glares at Wade (Logan shifts his weight at the sudden reciprocation of hostility). “Who the hell do you think you are?” he demands, moving between Wade and Hope.
Wade tilts his head and throws Forecaster from one hand to the other. “Oh, honeybear, how many of the people you know hate you almost as much as they love you?”
“We haven’t met,” the guy bites out.
“Where are my manners? Wade Wilson BT562-Omega, the Traveler. And we have met several times, via brainslide. You didn’t even notice the difference, by the way, which may make you eligible for the title of Multiverse’s Worst Husband.” Wade chuckles, but Logan doesn’t smell anything like amusement in his scent. “And your awesome hubby has recently taken on a distinct likeness to modern art-the princess here has a little spleen on her elbow, and I think that’s some grey matter on her collar. That was right before the molecular dissolution thing.”
Logan picks up the speeding heartbeat, the drawn breath, the tensing of muscles-the guy is fucking fast, for being so big, but Logan is probably faster.
But before he can stick a claw in the guy’s arm (and before the guy can plant a fist in Wade’s jaw), there’s a flurry of even faster movement, the hummingbird-rev of Wade’s heart, and Wade’s there, blocking Logan like the idea of fighting back is foreign. His face shows something like anger, and his scent reveals startled fear.
“Jesus, Jamie!” Wade hisses. “If he’d wanted to hurt me, you never would’ve seen it coming.”
“He sure as hell wasn’t gonna hug ya,” Logan spits back in confusion.
“We were expecting him to react badly to the news.” Wade reaches back, touches the big guy’s metal arm like he’s making sure the guy’s still there and in one piece. He takes a shaky breath, but doesn’t turn around. “Nate, you moron, I didn’t mean I did that shit. You’ve got yourself to blame for that. EB221-Beta. Now, you two haven’t met-Jamie, this is Nathan plus-a-few-hundred-names Summers; Nate, that’s my extremely overprotective boyfriend, James Logan.”
“Summers,” Logan snorts. “Figures.”
Summers has the grace to look sheepish. He slowly holds out his hand to shake. “AR091-Eta.”
“BT-something-I-don’t-remember,” Logan replies, grudgingly shaking Summers’ hand.
“BT511,” Wade puts in.
Summers gives Wade a long look. “I’m sorry, Wade. It was wrong of me to jump to conclusions.”
Wade looks back at the guy. “Good God, Nathan Christopher Etcetera is apologizing. This must be a warning sign that the universe is about to phase-level.”
“Very funny, Wade,” Summers sighs. “You, ah…look well.”
“This?” says Wade, pointing to his face. “Nah, this is a projection. But I’m not decomposing, and I’m not riddled with sores, so I guess that’s a step up from most universes. And you’re looking gracefully aged, Priscilla.”
Summers offers a thin smile. “Those were my husband’s exact words on the matter. I’m beginning to see why I didn’t notice your little ‘visits’ to our timeline.”
“Hope could tell the difference,” Wade says.
Logan can smell shame and pain from Summers now, and shifts a step closer to Wade.
“To be fair, I’ve known Wade more than half my life,” Hope tries, patting her father on the arm. “And I’ve got the mutant powers doing the intuition thing.”
“Well,” Summers says, and swallows thickly. “You came all the way to our branch of the timestream, which certainly doesn’t neighbor yours. Most Wades wouldn’t have a plan, but I know ours would, and I have a feeling you do. Before you walked in, all we knew was that there was an unauthorized lateral slide, some things exploded, and then there was a sudden loss of power in D Block.”
Wade smells uneasy, off-balance. He shifts his weight and takes a step closer to Logan (their knuckles brush). “I’m not usually a Wade prone to planning,” he mutters. “Until Effcee fiddled with my hardware, I did a lot of unpredictable brainsliding, so I guess I didn’t see much point to assuming I’d have more than five minutes in any given life. But…yeah, I kinda have a plan this time. It’s really weird trying to do the planning thing again after twenty-some years. And it’s really, really weird for you to talk to me like I’m a sane grown-up, Nate.”
Summers looks perplexed. “How else would I talk to you, Wade?”
“Like I’m a retarded funny-farm escapee?” Wade tries, shifting closer to Logan again (their shoulders bump, and Logan settles his hand at the small of Wade’s back in reassurance).
“I must have an awful lot of very asinine counterparts elsewhere in the timestream,” Summers declares with an unhappy frown.
“Honey, you have no idea. Anyway, I’ve met some of the baddies attacking us. I kicked Evil Spidey’s ass once, so I’m pretty sure I can do it again. Evil Nate and Evil Cap killed me dead, but now that all of me is here-y’know, instead of just my brain-they’re in for a nasty surprise.”
Logan notices a group of people approaching from the table: a skinny man in a labcoat, a tired-looking brunet with a goatee, a muscular blond who has to be Captain America, and a young woman with a long fluffy tail (and who smells like nuts).
“Oh, God, keep her away!” Wade yelps, hiding behind Logan. “I’m not evil! I’m so not evil! Okay, questionably semi-amoral and lovably sociopathic, yes, but not evil!”
“Problem, darlin’?” Logan asks bemusedly.
“I have a phobia of squirrels,” Wade says. “And Squirrel Girls and their sharp little claws. Almost as bad as the phobias of clowns and cows.”
“Um, Wade?” Hope ventures, arching an eyebrow at him. “Doreen’s a senior member of the Avengers, and she actually started a Wade Wilson fanclub. She probably won’t hurt you.”
“The word ‘probably’ is not very reassuring. D’you have any idea how much those claws sting?”
The skinny guy waves a hand. “At any rate…the Auditor was, unfortunately, our official leader. I’m sorry to say that we don’t really handle combat situations well without him, and we haven’t had a slide-based breach since I recalibrated our phasic shielding almost five years ago. If you’ve got a plan, we’re all ears. What can we do to help?”
Wade points. “You must be Richards. Go sit quietly in a corner and don’t invent things.”
“That’s a little harsh,” says Captain America.
“It’s not,” retorts the goateed man next to him. “Aside from keeping Reed from ripping dimensional holes or turning us all dayglo orange, what can we do to help?”
“We need you to imagine you’re evil, bitter, undersexed, and female. And then think of how you’d go about attacking this place. Because Evil-Chick-Tony is lurking, and thanks to Bishop, she’s got her hot little hands on Archimedes. While you’re at it, see if you have any weapons for disabling and/or killing Cap and Wolvie.”
The guy heaves a sigh. “Let me guess, the sliders are a team of evil versions of the Avengers.”
“Mostly right,” Wade says. “Five baddies. Nate, Cap, you, Spidey, Wolverine. Nate’s gonna be the sticking point, I think. It might be easier to try and distract them long enough to steal Archie and timeslide them somewhere. Not that I won’t completely enjoy trying my level best to utterly annihilate Evil Nate. I have a lot of pent-up anti-Nate sentiment in the first place, and he made my precious princess cry.”
Hope clears her throat, and smells distinctly sheepish. “Yeah. Well. Can somebody get me a wet-nap or something? I seem to be covered in the atomized remains of one of my parents. Let’s see you not cry. Everybody settle in, get snacks, do some tech show-and-tell, and I’ll have Kali pull as much information as possible on our enemies.”
Logan’s stomach growls at the mention of food. “Snacks. Definitely. This dimension-hopping thing happened before I could grab lunch, and I didn’t exactly get a chance to order a sandwich when people were pointing guns and knives and swords at me.”
“I did say sorry about the sword,” Clint reminds him. “In my defense, it wasn’t aimed at you and I’m not used to missing my targets.”
.End.
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