Chapter Seven : Flip

If there was one thing that Logan's ungodly early training sessions had done over the years, it was instilling an incredible muscle memory into one Scott Summers. In the split second that it took him to register the stranger's presence in the room, he had already shot off an ocular beam and vaulted behind the marble island of the kitchen. Rogue wasn't far; she rested her back against the cool surface, looking antsy. Emma joined them, the lightweight fabric of her nightie fluttering as she drew herself into a crouch. It was incredibly distracting.

"So, which one of us is Lucy?" Rogue asked as Scott popped his head up in order to shoot off another blast.

A blast that was easily deflected by the intruder's swords. The Institute's alarm was sounding; he just had to hold the guy off for a minute, until reinforcements arrived. But the guy was capable to dodging and refracting laser blasts - it wasn't going to be easy.

"Like I know?" he asked back, his voice tainted by his frustration. "I haven't made any new enemies lately, you?"

"When was the last time I left the house, Ricky?" Rogue countered.

"You can leave it in pieces if you want," came an eerily cheerful voice from above. Scott glanced up. The intruder, clad largely in red, was crouched on top of the island, now bending his head over the edge so it hung right in front of Scott's. Scott pulled down his glasses and shot the stranger in the face. The force sent him sprawling into the refrigerator, and Scott jumped to his feet, dimly aware of a rush of footsteps coming towards the kitchen.

"Nice shot," Rogue said, breathing heavily.

"Not nice enough," Emma cut in, icy blue eyes focused ion the heap of a body now crumpled on the kitchen floor. It was moving. Not moving, rising. And laughing?

"Not bad, kiddo," he said, springing up jauntily and cracking his head back into place. The sight made Scott's stomach churn. It had been twisted almost entirely around. "At least try and put up a fight."

He advanced, swords crossed in front of him. Scott attempted another hit, but again, it was refracted into a wall.

"Emma," he called, voice authoritative. "Get rid of the swords!" He could see her hands moving her temples in his peripheral vision, and he hoped that she could do something, and fast. Rogue was moving, but it wasn't towards him. Scott tried to evaluate the situation; he was reasonably sure that he could take the man in hand-to-hand combat, but the swords were another story altogether. With those out of the way, he might stand a chance.

But he needed Emma to do something first. Anything.

She hadn't expected to be called out. She hadn't expected to be involved in some ridiculous battle. But she was pretty sure she knew who "Lucy" was, and the thought alone had set her off her game ever-so-slightly.

Quite plainly, she wasn't prepared for this. She'd skipped her Adderall dosing; after a weekend free from the drug, her heart had felt normal again. She hadn't bothered to retake it when she got back to the Institute. She could try and force something - but what could that do? Scott expected telekinesis where there was none.

Adaptation.

Distraction.

Penetration.

She didn't allow her eyes to close as she raised her fingers to her head and focused her mind on the intruder. She could pick up the thoughts of a school in crisis, of a crowd of students and teachers hurrying to the kitchen. They were close, but they weren't there yet.

She attempted to strike his brain, to paralyze his mind and subsequently his body, to send him reeling into the pain of a psy-bolt.

But there was nothing tangible in his mind. If her eyes hadn't been open, they certainly would have done so. His brain was a morass, a seething pit of everything and nothing, of pop culture references and burritos, and single-minded violence. It was loud, it was dark, and the flashes of bright, whiplash thoughts that fought her own confused her, forced her mind out. There was no room for her intrusion, no tiny niche from which she could work.

And he was getting closer with every step.

Rogue heart thudded against her ribs, but she forced herself to remain logical despite the surreality of the situation unfolding before her eyes. Scott was being attacked by a man, clad in a full-body costume holding two swords, who had swung in through the now-broken kitchen window spouting outdated I Love Lucy references. Emma Frost was currently frozen in place beside her in what looked like bridal lingerie. And nobody seemed able to stop him.

She couldn't sap Scott, not when he was in the middle of battle. She debated touching Emma, to try and working with some of the telekinesis that seemed to be failing their newest member, bit regardless of the effectiveness of the blonde's powers, it would still leave them a person short.

Scott and the attacker seemed suitably preoccupied with each other, and Rogue seized the opportunity to jump to her feet and grab a heavy copper saucepan from the dish rack. She swung it hard, like a baseball bat, hoping velocity was on her side. She was never one for physics.

It crashed into the side of the intruder's head with a sickening crunch, producing a sizeable dent where the skull had collapsed inwards. He turned his head, one sword still held up to Scott's throat, in order to look Rogue in the face.

He was laughing. Uproarious, loud, untamed laughter, like he had just been tickled.

"Not bad, Kid," he said. "But too bad for you, I'm not going down just yet. I'm needed in the next couple of chapters."

"What?" Emma asked archly.

"What does that even mean?" Scott said in total confusion.

"Who the hell are you?" Rogue demanded, looking on in horror as the dent in his cranium seemed to pop back to normal.

"Deadpool," snarled an all-too familiar voice from the door of the kitchen.

Snkt.

Wolverine.

"Wolvie, baby, how ya doing?" Deadpool asked cheerfully, leaning on one of his swords. He twirled the other one in his fingers like a baton. "Long time, no see! How're the wife and kids?"

"You know this guy, Wolverine?" Bobby asked incredulously.

"You're married?" was Sam's question.

Logan shook his head as he dropped into a crouch, claws fully unsheathed. "Unfortunately, we've crossed paths before."

"But not in this series," Deadpool added, moving the tip of his sword to point directly as Scott's throat. "Generally we stay within the comic realm. But it depends on what canon you're following, I guess."

"Vhat's he talking about?" Kurt whispered. "I don't get it."

"Ignore him, Nightcrawler," Wolverine ordered. "He's nuts."

"Admittedly so."

"He also won't shut the hell up, so don't encourage him."

"Oh no, keep encouraging me. It's good for my self-esteem." Deadpool nodded his head vigorously.

Wolverine could feel the vein in his temple throbbing as he barely suppressed a snarl. How Deadpool had managed to work his way through the Institute security system was beyond him - he'd gone through it personally, several times, and had been confident that it would keep out any other intruders. Evidently, someone had gotten a little trickier, a little faster, a little better, since the last time they'd met. He'd had significant trouble getting rid of him last time - no way the kids stood a fucking chance against a hitman.

"You're looking a little frustrated. I can see your vein from here. Does the regenerative ability work on aneurisms? I've never had the time to try it."

"You won't get the chance to know," he raged, launching himself forward. Summers had the good sense to get the hell out of the way as Deadpool jumped up with equal speed. The two men collided in midair, grappling at each other. Wolverine could feel hands reaching around his neck, and retaliated by sliding his claws into the other man's lower abdomen and sliding them upward, grimacing at the smell of blood as the flesh yielded to adamantium. They struck rib, and he drew them back before his feet hit the floor. The entire process had taken no more than a few precious seconds. It wasn't long enough.

Deadpool landed on his feet, tucking in his entrails as his skin started to stitch itself back together. Somewhere behind him, Wolverine could hear one of the students - Jamie?- trying not to gag at the sight.

"This itches, broski. Not appreciated at all." Deadpool reached for the swords in his back holster and held them before him, crossed like an X. A traditionally defensive formation, but one that Wolverine knew could be used offensively by someone with enough skill, which Deadpool unfortunately had in spades.

"Maybe I can cool it off?" called out Iceman, as a beam of ice flew through the air and froze the assassin's feet to the ground. Beneath the mask, his expression looked pained.

"Really?" he asked, driving the tip of his sword into the ice with enough force that it shattered. "You're a walking freezer, and that's the best pun you can come up with?"

"Leave the kid out of this, Deadpool," Wolverine cut in, shooting Iceman a death glare from his peripheral vision. "He ain't involved in this."

"Neither are you," Deadpool chided him, wagging a finger in his direction. He could see Rogue and Scott sneaking up behind him; he signalled to them with his eyes that they should advance no further - it would be suicide. Scott had the sense to hesitate. The set of Rogue's chin seemed a sure indication that she wasn't going to listen to him.

"Then what's you're business here?" She was getting closer. Stall. Stall.

"Just that. Business. Can't tell you much more than that without breaking confidentiality."

"Like you've ever cared, motormouth?"

"I suppose my detachment is an asset, yeah."

Frost was rising to her feet from behind the granite-topped island - what the hell was she wearing? - and attempting to sidle behind the hitman, behind Rogue, in order to edge around the perimeter of the room. She had gotten as far as Scott when Deadpool seemed to sense that she was there. He whirled around and his voice when he spoke, his voice almost awestruck.

"Please tell me you're actually eighteen," he said.

"Seventeen," she lied. Wolverine inched closer. "Sorry buddy, can't help you. I'm out of your league anyway." Her body weight shifted as she assumed a slightly defensive stance. Wolverine doubted that she would be able to keep standing if push came to shove - her heels were too damn high to be believed. He was so close, just another foot, and he'd be within arm's reach.

"Too bad. I've killed hotter." He moved so quickly that Wolverine's reaction was just a hair's too slow. Swords flashed in the light. A beam of ice shot from behind.

"Iceman, NO-" Wolverine roared, feeling the ice graze his foot. It slowed him down further. He couldn't afford the drop in speed.

A leather glove flew by him as Deadpool thrust his sword forward, and the assassin's body spasmed as he lunged. He fell off balance and twitched on the ground as though electric pulses were working their way methodically through his body.

Rogue.

The goth girl stood in front of Frost, one bare hand still extended before her as her knees started to shake. She had managed to touch the flesh exposed by the tears in Deadpool's suit. There was a tear in her shirt where the sword had just grazed over her collarbone, and Wolverine could smell the metallic blood as it seeped through. He couldn't see the bleed, but he knew it was there.

There wasn't much time before Deadpool recovered. How much there would be, he didn't know, but with the advanced healing factor, every second mattered.

"Get outta here," he ordered the students, turning to face them. "Go. Danger Room's the safest."

"There's way more of us'n him - we can stop him," Sam argued.

"Only one way to stop 'im, and you ain't gonna like it," he growled. "Get moving before he does." The urgency of his voice seemed to do it; they turned, headed down the hallway, hopefully to the Danger Room like he'd told them.

Deadpool was down for the count, at least temporarily. Now to move him somewhere safer, more restrained than the kitchen.

"Wolverine, do you know what's going on?" Scott asked, nudging the body with his foot. Frost stood beside him, one hand on his shoulder.

"No idea," he growled, shooting a look at Emma. "But I can guess."

"I don't like what you're insinuating, Logan," she replied coolly, crossing her arms across her chest and jutting out a hip. "I'm as clueless about this as you are."

"It must just be a coincidence that he shows up right after you do-" he started, feeling his suspicions rise. Something was off about her. He didn't trust how collected she looked, how she managed to be so stone-faced after what had just happened. "-and he just happens to know right where you are. This is Deadpool, kid, he's a fucking psychopath, but he doesn't make mistakes. So either you tell me what you're tangling with, or I'm going to have Chuck pull it out of your peroxide-brain."

He took a step forward, fully expecting some sort of offensive from Frost. Her jaw was set firmly, her chin tilted upward, and she rested one hand on Scott's arm as though closing them off from the sheer force of his rage.

He didn't expect it to come from behind him.

Logan caught the singing of the blade as it sliced through the air just moments before it cut through the position where his head once was. He whirled around, jumping backwards over Deadpool's body as Rogue let out a roar of anger. She wielded the sword with a surprising amount of confidence - he was sure she'd never covered that in her arms training. And he was resoundingly sure that the maniacal laughter that left her throat wasn't a good sign.

She lunged.

Faster, faster, faster, she was lighter on her feet than he'd ever seen her move. Her bladework was flawless; in the brief second of confusion, she managed to grab the second sword, and was backing him towards the wall.

At least Frost and Summers had the sense to get the fuck out of the way. They watched in horror from the now-shattered window. He could feel their eyes on him as he tried to measure the situation.

"Hello, Logan," she said, voice syrupy sweet and Southern, thick as taffy and equally cloying. "Wanna play?" She extended the tip of the sword and tapped him forcefully on the nose, leaving a gash that healed instantly.

"Not now, kid," he said, trying to catch her eyes. They stared at him, sharo and cunning and unrecognizing of his authority. The smile that stretched across her pale face was unnerving. "We gotta get you out of here. And I don't wanna hurt you."

"Too bad. I do," she grinned, every tooth in her skull visible. She swung, hard. He ducked faster, moved out of his corner and into the wider expanse of the kitchen. He needed more room to work.

She was Deadpool now - fast,. strong, and utterly insane. He knew that Rogue occasionally picked up personality traits of those that she drained - fuck, he'd dealt with the rage for two weeks after she had come into contact with Sabretooth, but at least she had been in charge of her mental capacity. Now, reason and rhyme didn't seem to have any bearing to her; she was fearless because she wasn't sane. She was fighting him - the single-minded tenacity with which she was striking towards him was far too reminiscent of some of his earlier memories involving the assassin.

"Put the sword down," he ordered her as they circled each other. She was in an expert crouch, matching his every movement. He couldn't get close enough to grab her weapons, and she seemed to be anticipating hi every move. The minute that they continued this pattern seemed the longest, most agonizing, minute of Logan's exceptionally long life. He was surprised, given Rogue's current personality, that she was able to stand it as long as she had. Deadpool himself would have long grown bored of wandering in a simple defensive dance. Maybe there was hope for her after all.

"This is boring," she announced, launching herself into the air. "I can't keep playing with you. I have work to do." She flipped, pushed her foot against the wall, and dove, point-first, towards Frost.

"What the hell-?" the blonde barely had a chance to react to the sudden change in Rogue's focus. Thankfully, he noted with a sense of relief and pride, Summers was still in top form. He managed to shoot off an optical blast that knocked Rogue into the fridge and rendered her unconscious, but not before her sword left a nasty gash in Frost's arm.

Wolverine strode over to Rogue, shaking his head as he surveyed her form sprawled over the tiles. He didn't know how long it would take for Deadpool's healing factor to kick in, but they needed to restrain her before that happened. He was certain that the emergency bungee cord was still under the sink where he had stored it - Logan, true to form, prided himself on being prepared for any emergency in any room.

"Give me a hand," he growled, and Summers helped lift Rogues body while Wolverine bound her wrists and ankles with the cord. She wasn't going to get out of that easily. Too bad he couldn't do the same for Frost, who hovered over them like a particularly vicious hawk.

"Are you sure she won't be able to get out of those?" she nagged, looking haughty despite her bleeding arm. "I really don't need another scar-"

He was going to give her one if she didn't shut up.

"-and really, the security around here could use some work, if some lunatic got in that easily. Scott, I'm so glad you were there-"

"Just keep an eye on Deadpool, Blondie," Wolverine cut in, hoping she would get the hint. She huffed, placed a hand on her hip, and pivoted around. Her flimsy night clothes fluttered around for a moment after she turned.," he said gruffly. "He's not coming back tonight."

"He's not here," she said, voice tight.

She had to be joking.

Wolverine stood up and bolted to the window, Summers no more than a foot behind him. Off in the darkness, he could see a small figure bolting over the fence. Two seconds, they hadn't watched him, and he was gone.

"Well, no point in standing around," he said gruffly, "he's not coming back tonight. Let's get upstairs. Hank's going to have a field day with you guys."

With that, he flung Rogue's still-lifeless body over his shoulder and made his way to the door.

Someone, and he was pretty sure he knew who, was going to have a hell of a lot of talking to do.

Author's Note: No real excuse for the months-long delay in the chapters beyond schoolwork- I've finally finished my undergrad, which allows me significantly more time to write. I've missed being a part of fandom, and I apologize to anyone (maybe all… half a person?) who may have been waiting with bated breath for this. Thankfully, I've started the next chapter, and I hope to have a short fic posted in the next few days.

Reviews and constructive criticism are much loved!