By Desert Nomad
Teresa hustled back to the practice area, pulling up her leg warmers. To tell the truth, being a professional Celtic dancer wasn't nearly as fun as she thought it would be. The practices were long and hard, her accent was no longer unique and Mr. Flatley was sort of...eccentric. Even worse than Cable. At least at X-Force, her friends had been there. She missed them. Strange as it seemed, she missed them. Maybe I should--she began to think, before she was interrupted.
"Okay, people, it's back to work!" Michael called out.
"Already?" a girl complained. Terry thought her name was Colleen. Michael narrowed his eyes at her.
"What d'ye mean, already?"
"Well, sir, we've been practicin' fer fourteen hours, an' we've had barely more than a half-hour o' break, total..."
"We need to be perfect, Ms. O'Brian," Michael said stiffly.
"But sir, 'tis only tap dancin'!"
"CELTIC FOLK DANCING! NAE SAY THAT WORD IN ME PRESENCE AGAIN! Now, out wi' ye, Ms. O'Brian! Ye're fired!"
Terry swallowed. Yup, this place was nothing like home.
It was rare that Wade Wilson enjoyed his work this much. Assassinations were interesting. Extortion deals could be amusing. Mime exterminations brought along the rare joy of providing service to the community. But the fact that someone had actually paid him to blow up the latest performance of Riverdance, that obnoxious, Irish tapdancing show, well...it was too good to be true. He laced explosives along the struts of the catwalk as the audience began to trickle in. He shouldn't've started earlier, but the client wanted the job done tonight. As he finished, the house lights were just going down. Deadpool pondered whether to save the explosion for the finale, or to toast 'em after the first act. As flute tones filled the air, and dancers paraded onto stage, Wade winced. First act, he decided. Suddenly, his eyes widened behind his mask as he recognized the third redhead from the left. "Holy moral dilemmas, Batman!" Wade exclaimed. He tapped his fingers thoughtfully on one of the struts, trying to decide what to do. Then something under his finger beeped. Deadpool glanced down at the timer that was now counting down from three minutes. "Oh, fudge."
"I hate this song," Cable grumbled, reaching for the radio.
"No!" Shatterstar barked. "It is the Spice Girls! Are you intending to terminate the melodious strains of 'If U Can't Dance'?!"
"Yes."
"I knew we should've gotten the van without the radio," 'Berto sighed.
"Terry loved this song," Jimmy pined.
"No, she didn't," Tabby interjected.
"Well, she had the cd."
"She also had a Lovin' Spoonful cd, the definitive They Might Be Giants collection, Blondie's Greatest Hits, and the Bread Anthology. Terry tended to buy music on a whim."
"And now she's off dancing in a river, somewhere," Jimmy continued as they drove through the busy New York streets. Or, more accurately, crawled through the busy New York streets. "Look. Riverdance is at that theater. It's like a sad and twisted metaphor."
"Ain't that a bunch of loony, tap-dancing, Irish people?" Ric asked.
Somewhere, deep in the bowels of Tabitha Smith's mind, something went "click!"
"Cable, would it be bad if someone happened to misconstrue the meaning of Riverdance?"
"How so?"
"If someone said 'I'm joining Riverdance,' and one interpreted that as 'I'm going to go dance in a river.' Would that be bad?" Very slowly, Cable turned around in his seat.
"Tabitha..."
"Yeah. I thought so."
Shuffle, ball, change, shuffle, ball, bloody 'ell, this sucks, ball, change, shuffle, shuffle... Teresa's mind sped rapidly. Her legs were numb, and she was beginning to feel blinded by the lights. As she stared up into the strutwork of the ceiling, she thought she caught a glimpse of red and black. Now I'm hallucinatin', she thought to herself. Never shoulda touched Maureen's special Irish brownies.
Meanwhile, Wade Wilson's mind was also racing. On one hand was the score, plus the added bonus of seeing a bunch of tapdancers get blown sky- high. On the other was the woman he loved. However, he couldn't figure out a way to save the second without achieving the first. Oh, heck, he thought to himself. I don't think Terry would appreciate seeing her pals blown up. And then Wade did something heroic.
"WHAT DO YOU MEAN, TERRY 'MIGHT'VE' SAID SHE JOINED RIVERDANCE?!"
"Big guy, for future reference, I really prefer it when you keep your voice below 130 decibels," Tabby winced. Cable stared at her. "Okay, so I screwed up. How was I supposed to know Riverdance was some sort of show?" Suddenly, Cable swerved the van around, jumping the divider, and subsequently throwing every member of X-Force who wasn't wearing their seatbelt (namely everyone but Shatterstar) to the floor.
"What are you doing?" Bobby exclaimed.
"We're rescuin' our deputy leader."
"Ohmigod, where'd that guy come from?"
"What's going on?"
"I can't see, why'd we get these crappy seats anyway?" The theater was filled with assorted whispers, comments, all the way up to shouts as Deadpool dropped onto the stage.
"Okay, folks, um, this place is gonna blow in a few minutes, so, uh, grab your popcorn and get. Bye. See ya. Auf Wiedersehen. Come again. Buh-bye..."
"What in th'name o' th'IRA d'ye think ye're doin'?!" Deadpool turned to face an irate, red-faced Michael Flatley.
"Evacuating. 'Cause face it, these are the only fans you're gonna get, you might as well let 'em live. Oh, all you Irish cuties better am-scray, too." Under his breath he mumbled, "tapdancing guys deserve to be blown to Kingdom Come, but we might as well save the babeskis."
Most of the Riverdancers started to run, Terry just buried her head in her hands and mumbled "Why me?" Then, Mr. Flatley had something to say.
"None o' ye are goin' anywhere! Th'show MUST go on!!" Deadpool snorted.
"Yo, man, I thought I was psycho, but you, sir, have reached new depths."
"Riverdance stops fer no-one!"
"Ooo-kay. Well, I'll just be taking my girl and skedaddlin'. C'mon, Ter."
"I..." she started.
"Don't ye dare leave!" Flatley warned. Terry's glance darted between Wade and Michael.
"I..."
"Terry! Who dragged you off to foreign countries to dismember your relatives? Who accidentally deleted the hard drive of your big X- Computer thingie? Who made you go to that hockey game where you got hit in the forehead with the puck, and you got that cute little scar?"
"Well..."
Wade's jaw dropped. "Terry! I'm your pal! I don't want you to get blown into Lucky Charms! What's this guy ever done for you?!"
Terry set her jaw. "Nothin'. I'm coming with ye, Wade." She hopped off the stage.
"Good riddance!" Flatley yelled. "Get outta here! We donnae need ye!" Terry glanced back at the stricken faces of her fellow Riverdancers.
"Oh, c'mon, folks! Donnae give up yuir lives! Everyone's left, anyway." A few people started to slow down.
"If'n ye leave, ye're defyin' Celts ev'rywhere!" Flatley bellowed. The tapping resumed.
"People! See the forest fer the trees! The man abuses ye, doesnae even care fer yuir lives..."
"...Is going boom in under a minute," Wade added, glancing at his watch.
"If ye quit, ye're fired, an' ye git no more monthly newsletter or free potatoes!"
"Proclaim yuir freedom! Rebel!"
"And all proclaimers can follow me right out this door..." Deadpool said, watching the seconds tick down.
"Anyone who cannae take a wee bomb scare isn't Irish!"
"Fine! Get blown inta cranberry sauce! See if I care!" Terry started to stomp out, Wade close on her heels, when the door of the theater blasted inwards.
"We're here for Terry Rourke," Cable intoned threateningly.
"You, too?" Wade grumbled. "Too late!"
"Yeah, give 'er up, you tapdancing loser!" Meltdown snapped. Michael Flatley's face went from scarlet to purple.
"IT'S CELTIC FOLK DANCIN', YE BLEEDIN' FOOLS!" He leapt off the stage, and lunged at X-Force. The Riverdancers, seeing their chance at freedom, raced out the back door.
"C'mon, Red, that thing's gonna blow in 2...oh crap." And with a loud bang, the theater exploded into a hurricane of streamers, confetti and Silly String. Teresa glared at Deadpool, streamers trailing off her head.
"Wade?"
"Um, I guess I got the other bomb mixed up with the party bomb for Al's birthday. I think I need to go home, now."
X-Force sat around the mansion's living room, scarfing pizza and slurping Jolt cola.
"Good dinner, Terry," Rictor announced.
"Thanks," she said.
"I'm so glad you're back!" Warpath added.
"I know. Ye've already told me. This is the seventh time."
"But I am."
"...slam your body down and wind it all around..." Shatterstar sang along to his Discman.
"Who knew taps were so sharp?" Cable grumbled, rubbing the newest bump in his nose.
"So, Terster...'ja miss us?" Tabby finally asked.
Terry ruminated for a moment. "Yeah. I think I did."
The End