Call to Action

"What the hell are you laughing at?" Francis asks the moment Regan and I step into the room; face red with rage and what looks to be masked shame. Earlier, his screams had been child's play, but it's about to change. There's nothing I hate more than sticking up for someone and finding that it's a mistake.

"You," I snort, unable to help the snickering as he pulls at the cuffs keeping him in place, "you're hysterical, Barton." I turn to reset the security codes; once I leave, nobody goes in or out without Regan's say so.

"Why are you even here? Don't you have a girl to fuck or a party to crash?"

"Nope," I grin, only this time it's not amused, "I'd be a little nicer to the guy that decides if you go back to Cade in pieces though."

"What the fuck--"

I cut him off, by jerking the chair back and allowing his arms to hold the strain of sudden surprise, "Austen gave Regan a lot of credit, but you were right. She does like to torture people, but not just because she's a mutant." I look up to admire her; she's long changed out of her dress and into her favorite uniform: black leather that splits up the front and leaves little to the imagination. Her weapons are missing, but the faded M that belonged to her father's costume sits on her belt. "She's insane on her best days."

"Can't do it yourself, can you Frost? Then again, what would you do? Paint me a picture?" He mocks, head turned to look back at me. "Or would you continue to shake me around a bit? Show me more of that temper you have."

I grab the back of his shirt and shove him forward, table shaking under the sudden weight. "Because you're not that lucky, perks of being a Barton I suppose." I force him down again, fingers tightening and pulling until his shirt becomes a noose. "I read the report, what Cade did to your sister. Our roles were reversed and that was my sister? I would have slit his throat in his sleep. But you must be a better person than me."

I let go of him and step back, kicking the chair toward his back. It hits him, but he doesn't move, stunned. Regan is the one that steps forward and moves it and Francis, pushing him back so he's sitting. "Come now, birdie. I'll make it gentle," she promises, smoothing her hands over his hair.

"No," I decide, yet mockingly, "you are a better person than me, Francis. You thought earlier was bad, your little new found memories and fear of a sharp knife…no, Francis, I'm going to fucking break you. Let's see what you're made of, unmade and spread across the floor."

He lifts his head in horror as my words finally catch meaning and it dawns on him what's about to happen. "You wouldn't dare. Fury would destroy you." He threatens and I shake my head. At Regan's nod, I clamp my hands over his mouth and put an end to his talking.

"You're in no position to be telling Fury anything, but it's not him you have to be worried about Francis, it's me." Regan purrs. ""It was so sweet of your sister to give me the benefit of the doubt. I almost feel bad …earlier was only a taste. There's a reason they call me Lady Mastermind. Now let's hear that pretty scream again. Four sets of birds, three sets of broken wings, I've always liked matching sets." She comes across the room in an instant dragging their eyes to meet, "Now be a good birdie and start speaking, use little words and many of them, but pick wisely because if they're useless."

The moment his eyes fade to match her own, I let go, unwilling to dive headfirst into whatever nightmare she's plaguing him with. Suddenly he lurches forward, arms pulling at the cuffs, a scream spilling from his lips. Regan twists her hand back toward me, allowing a catch of her illusion to fall through.

"You were supposed to keep her safe!" Barney leans against a wall, bleeding and dying. His arms are full of Austen's body, twisted and barely recognizable. "You couldn't even do that, you worthless piece of shit."

"Uncle Barney, I ..I.."

"I don't want to hear your excuses," he dropped Austen's body and swung his bow up. Francis stumbled back, tripping over another body. The costume was unmistakable, as was the head that lay feet away. "You killed your sister...

Francis moans, head buried in his hands and I make a cutting motion with my hand, "save your sister, Francis," Regan rocks forward so her mouth is closer to his ear, "where is Cade?" Her fingers stroke over his hair. "Tell me where is, tell me, Francis, and everything will be okay."

He moans again and I lean forward, "give him a breather so he can talk."

"Go away, Raffaello." She replies, pointing toward the door as she twists Francis' hair in her fingers, grinning all the while. "Well, Francis, I guess you never loved your family at all. Let's see them die again, shall we? Maybe this time you were just too slow."


"You okay?" I ask, joining Austen outside. She shrugs, smoke circling her head and I wave a hand, "gimme a light then, Barbie."

"Don't call me that." But she produces a lighter from her shirt and I grin, flipping it through my fingers as I palm a pack of cigarettes out of my pocket. "What is Regan doing to my brother?"

"Do you really want to know?" I nudge her foot with my own, "c'mon, ask me about me. You know you want too."

“Out of all the things I was expecting from the spawn of Tony Stark, Art History wasn’t one of them.” She chuckles, “I thought you would be a doctor, an engineer; something that is surrounded by science. That’s what’s what be expected. The partying I can see, frat boy, that’s just Stark behavior all over it, but I’m surprisingly shocked about you being an art major.”

“I like to keep people guessing,” I shrug, smiling, taking a drag of my cigarette. “Besides, you’re not like your parents, you’re not running off to be an agent of SHIELD.”

“That’s different.”

“When you think about it, not really. Our parents do what they do, because they’re good at it and that’s what’s expected of them, we do what we do, because we like it.”

“And yet we’re both here.”

“I guess Fury didn’t get the memo.” I snort, knowing there’s a reason why Fury sent us instead of pulling one of the remaining Avengers. He could have even sent Sharon rather than let her play babysitter for the few hours we were on the Helicarrier.

“Did you send one out? I didn’t get it,” we both turn as Wade, now covered head to toe in black and red, and Martinique step out of the woods. Austen makes a started nose and I pull my arm around her waist as Wade drops down to a crouch. “How’s it going anyway, bossman? Ready for me to kill some fuckers? I mean, Cap’s out there and probably needs some help. We should save him before it gets ugly...unless you want me to make it ugly. I mean, Captain America, bossman, Captain America.”

Martinique makes a sound of disgust, “the fame whore needs help, when we’re done, we can talk.”

“Thanks, Marti.” She kicks her foot against Wade’s back as she walks past him, causing him to flail as he falls onto his hands. “Austen, this is Wade...Deadpool.”

I try not to smile as Austen crosses her arms defensively, stepping back and away. I should have known that with him in costume, he would be completely recognizable to her. “Baby Barton, here to help?” Wade has moved to his feet and has a hand offered, but she merely stares at him like he’s about to lunge and kill. He wiggles his hand toward her face and I knock his hand away.

“Leave her alone, Wade.”

“I’m not as bad as they say I am, I’m really quite a princess.”

“Deadpool, shut your mouth and help us.” Martinique has returned, Francis dragged between her and Regan.

“Oh my god…” Austen steps forward and I tighten my arm on her waist, keeping her at my side as Wade and Regan switch places. “What did you do to him?” Francis is a sight for sore eyes: nose bleeding, sweaty and pale. He’s shaking and his eyes are narrowed.

“Nothing,” Regan grabs Francis’ jaw and turns his head, “he did it all himself, didn’t you?”

Instead, he turns a dazed glare in my direction, “Who the fuck are you?”

“Ask Cade, he’ll tell you.” Regan shoots me a look and I ignore him, “tell him he missed the mark he was looking for.”

‘Fuck you.” He spat, pulling against Wade and Martinique’s arms.

“I think Lady M already did.” I snicker, “Deadpool, drop him wherever he’ll be found, Mastermind will give you the best location.”

“Sure thing, bossman. We’ll meet you at the next location.” He swings Francis around in his arms, ignoring the loud protesting and jogs off. “C’mon Mastermind, let’s go kick some ass.”

“I can’t believe I’m stuck babysitting Deadpool, I should be watching you,” she shoots a dark look in my direction, “I’m stronger than that spotlight greedy bitch.”

“You’re better at tracking,” I point off as Regan growls. I point after Wade and she turns on her heel, strutting after him as if she has all the time in the world. Austen bats my hand away, anger clouding on her face, “before you get mad and I explain ...want to find out where we’re going next? I was able to get a tracking patch on Cade.”

“Regan can fly the quinjet while you explain to me,” she points after Wade and Martinique, “how you know Deadpool. And what just happened. That was worse than picking for information, Jason, that was flat out torture.”