"Alright, Barbie—you want to dance? let's dance."
(Come on Barbie, let's go Barbie, Ah Ah Ah Yeah!)
Shut up Bracket…
Without waiting for a reply, Wade lunged forward. His claws clashed with hers in a flurry of sparks and metal, the impact sending vibrations up his arms. She was fast—faster than anyone he'd ever fought before—but Wade wasn't playing it safe.
He squared off with Lady Deathstrike, his claws sliding out from his knuckles with a metallic snikt. For a moment, the mansion felt too small to contain the fury bubbling inside him. The mansion was falling apart around them, alarms blaring, and here he was, stuck playing hero. Again.
Well, anti-hero, you only doing this for the kids and your family…
(And the plot!)
And the plot.
Lady Deathstrike tilted her head, her eyes cold and calculating, as if she were sizing up her prey. Without a word, she lunged, her claws a blur of deadly motion.
Wade sidestepped, then teleported behind her in a flash of shadow, but Deathstrike was fast. Like, too fast. She spun with inhuman precision, claws slicing through the air, barely missing his throat.
Wade ducked, his heart pounding in his chest, adrenaline surging.
"You're fast," Wade quipped, catching his breath, "but can you dodge this?" He lashed out with his own claws, slashing at her midsection. She blocked effortlessly, their claws clashing with a sharp metallic ring.
Wade teleported again, this time appearing above her, dropping down with a vicious kick aimed at her head. He flung her across the hallway like she weighed nothing. Lady Deathstrike crashed into the wall with a thud, but before she could stand out again, one of Stryker's soldiers—who always shooting him whenever they can—actually could finally shot Wade's head in the back, interrupting his fight with Lady Deathstrike.
"God fucking dammit! Not again!" He shouted at the soldiers. "Excuse me, my Lady, I need to take care of something first. I'll came back for our date! Don't worry!"
He then teleported away from Lady Deathstrike, only appearing behind the soldier who shot him.
"Oh, hey!" Wade greeted the unsuspecting goon with a grin, wrenching the gun out of his hands. "Mind if I borrow this?"
Without waiting for an answer, he spun the rifle around and fired into the soldier's own chest, sending the guy toppling backward. Wade barely had time to admire his handiwork before another soldier came at him from the side. Wade swung the butt of the rifle at the guy's head, then sliced at his arm with his claws for good measure.
"Two for two!" Wade chuckled, kicking the soldier down. "Who's next? Wooo! I'm on fire tonight."
Don't get too cocky…
(Look out!!!)
Another two soldiers charged at him. Wade teleported again, reappearing behind them and swiping one of their pistols, popping off a couple of rounds into their legs before finishing them off with a quick swipe of his claws.
Two more down.
He swiped his claws through the air, knocking another soldier's gun out of his hands before driving his claws into the man's chest. "Seriously, Stryker!" Wade yelled, tossing the soldier aside. "You hire these guys off Craigslist or something? Because I'm not impressed with the quality."
(We could hire gunman from Craighlist?!?!?)
It's a sarcasm, Bracket…
Stryker, standing a safe distance away, didn't react. He just watched, his face a mask of cold indifference. Wade could feel Stryker's eyes on him, dissecting him, analyzing him. It made his skin crawl. Uurggh, never again.
(Creeps!)
Yeah, he definitely in P.Diddy parties or Epstein Island list!
Lady Deathstrike was back in an instant, her claws slicing through the air once more. Wade barely dodged in time, flipping backward to create some space.
"I gotta say, babe!" Wade panted, a bit of his cocky swagger faltering, "you've really got that whole 'silent, deadly assassin' thing going for you. I respect that."
She didn't respond—of course she didn't—and lunged at him again. Wade met her halfway, claws slashing through the air, both of them a blur of metal and fury. They clashed again and again, sparks flying as their claws met. Wade teleported, trying to catch her off guard, but she was ready every time.
"You know what?" Wade panted, his eyes narrowing at Stryker. "I've had enough of this."
He teleported again, this time aiming directly for Stryker. Wade reappeared inches away from him, claws raised, ready to end it all.
But before his claws could come down, Lady Deathstrike was there—again—blocking him with her own claws, the force of the collision sending a shockwave through his body. Wade staggered back, growling in frustration.
"Really?!" Wade shouted, throwing his arms out in exasperation. "Can I get five seconds with the guy, just to— I dunno—stab him a little? C'mon, that's fair, right?"
Lady Deathstrike lunged again, and Wade barely had time to block. Their claws clashed in a brutal dance of metal and fury, sparks flying with every strike. Wade could feel his body slowing down, his teleportation growing sloppier with every passing second. He was running out of steam. And all the while, Stryker just watched.
As the fight dragged on, Wade could feel the fatigue setting in. His teleportation was getting slower and shorter distance. He couldn't keep this up forever.
Well, you are not Captain America after all.
(Maybe don't overdo on the teleportation, we still haven't got the hang off that thing.)
Yeah, remember last time? We almost turned into a jellyfish!
(Having your inside out also not cool too!)
Just as he was about to launch another attack, Lady Deathstrike swiped low, catching him across the chest with her claws. Wade stumbled back, blood seeping through his shirt.
"Okay, ow," Wade muttered, clutching his chest. "That one hurt."
Lady Deathstrike advanced, not giving him a second to recover. She went for the kill, her claws aiming for his throat. But Wade wasn't done yet. With a burst of strength, he blocked her claws with his own, the force of their collision sending a shockwave through his arms.
"Okay," Wade growled, his voice low and dangerous, "this just got personal."
He teleported mid-swing, reappearing behind her and slashing at her back. She whirled, blocking his strike just in time, but Wade was already gone again, blinking in and out of existence like a strobe light, trying to get the upper hand.
"This is fun and all, but I gotta admit," Wade quipped, his breathing ragged, "this whole try to kill me thing is really putting a damper on what could've been a beautiful friendship."
(I don't think we could be friends, she a meanie...)
Really? A meanie?
(She got that mean girl vibes y'know!)
In the corner of his eye, Wade saw Stryker watching, still as calm and collected as ever. That smug look on his face was enough to reignite the fire in Wade's gut.
Stryker watched the whole thing with a cold, calculating expression. It was like he was enjoying it, like watching Wade struggle was all part of his twisted plan.
"You can't win, Wade," Stryker said quietly, his voice calm and measured. "You're just like your father—so much anger, so much potential. But in the end, you'll fall. Just like he did."
(What the fuck he's yapping about?)
Don't know don't care, just kill him already.
Wade clenched his fists, his blood boiling. "You don't know anything about me," he growled. He tried lunged toward Stryker but Lady Deathstrike block him everytime.
Wade's mind raced as he deflecting Lady Deathstrike's attacks, each clash of their claws echoing through the darkened halls of the mansion. But as he dodged and retaliated, his senses tingled with the feeling that something was amiss. Stryker's smug grin was plastered across his face, but Wade's focus remained on the fight at hand.
Just as he landed a solid punch to Lady Deathstrike's jaw, she snarled and came back at him with a vengeance, her claws swiping through the air dangerously close to his face. On the corner of his eyes, he caught a glimpse of Stryker slipping away down a shadowy corridor, that damnable grin still plastered across his face.
"Hey! Get back here, you fucker!" Wade shouted, but it was too late. Stryker vanished from his sight, likely trying to go the basement to get Cerebro, just like the plot of the movies. At least, the children were safe this time, the mansion? Not so much, but Chuck's bottomless trust fund will solve that.
"Why is it always the main bad guys that always run away first, huh?"
Because the plot said so…
(Because they are the main bad guys!)
And the author is milking this arc.
As Lady Deathstrike closed in on him again, he felt the walls closing around him. He had to act fast. This was turning into a losing battle, and he needed a Plan B—well D or F at this point—something explosive could do! He hopes all of the students and his family already far away from the mansion.
He already stalled long enough as the sun seemed to rise already.
"Alright, let's do this, They're probably already far enough," Wade muttered, with a few taps on the watch in his wrist, he set the countdown timer for a self-destruct sequence. "Sorry, mansion! You've served me well, but it's time to try these babies out!"
The timer began to tick down, and as he turned to head back, he saw Lady Deathstrike charging toward him, claws gleaming dangerously in the dim light.
"C'mon! Can't you see I'm busy?" Wade yelled, desperately trying to hold her off while making his way back to the main hall.
He could hear the rumble of the countdown in the background, but just as he thought he might have a chance, everything went dark. A deafening explosion shook the mansion to its very foundation, sending debris flying in every direction. The shockwave blasted Wade off his feet, sending him crashing against the wall.
Why do we always have to end it with explosions?
(Because its cool! Obviously!)
"True art is an explosion!!!"
When the dust settled, Wade groaned, pushing himself up from the rubble. Flames everywhere. He was completely exposed—naked as the day he was born and the day on his escape—thanks to the explosion. "Great. Just great! Hey author! I am still underaged! At least do some bullshit answer about my clothes or something!"
But as he looked around, he saw that Lady Deathstrike was still alive, but barely. The explosion had significantly damaged her, and Wade could see the unmistakable signs of her regeneration struggling to keep up.
Wade seized the moment, lunging at her. "Hey! Close your eyes creep! I am still underaged! Eh, you lost it? I am sorry!" he taunted. With a flamethrower he found lying around, he finished her off so not one of single cells of her could regenerated, leaving only her single adamantium skeleton.
"Bye, Felicia!" he said as he turned to navigate through the wreckage.
(Are you sure she will not comeback?)
That's is future us problems… But I don't think she will.
But just as he was about to feel a flicker of triumph, he realized that Stryker was long gone. "Ugh! That guy is the worst," he grumbled, shaking his head as he walked through the debris.
Once he'd managed to sift through the rubble, he stumbled across his secret stash hidden near the garden—an emergency supply of his usual gear. So, this is the bullshit the author prepared.
Whatever.
"Finally! My favorite suit, come to papa!"
He pulled on his suit, the familiar snugness of the spandex reassuring him even as he cursed the whole situation. Then, as he checked his cellphone, he couldn't help but smirk at the tracker he'd planted on his family.
"Let's see where everyone is," he murmured, scrolling through the app. "Ah, Mom and Dad are heading to Boston. Well, Boston it is!"
(OH! I always wanted to visit Boston! Can we get pizza on the go?)
It seems Pops is going to Bobby house, let's go there first!
With a determined grin, Wade looked around for one of Scott's cars or bikes that might still be intact in the garage. "Here's hoping I don't have to walk there," he chuckled to himself.