Chapter Forty-Three: Making the Grade

Mr. Negativity
guest-starring Deadpool!?!
The End of the World As We Know It: Part I-3

Charles shut the door behind Joe as his friend went off to find a job. Then, double-checking that the blinds were pulled across the window, he closed his eyes and embraced the tingling sensation that transformed his body into Mr. Negativity. The Nega-Bands appeared from wherever they hid, gleaming in the few rays of sunlight that made their way through the blinds. Charles didn’t need to shower or shave that morning, as his human body always returned rested and clean after a transformation into Mr. Negativity. Charles looked again at the pile of luggage Joe had packed the night before, which now rested in the corner of the boys’ hotel room. He took a deep breath.
“It’s now or never,” he told himself. Charles drew the power of his Negative Zone body into the Nega-Bands, where the energies were easier to control. Then, very carefully (don’t want to blow up the hotel), he began to let some of the portal power seep from his body, sliding very carefully along the edges of the leather bags the Supercools had no room to deal with. It was done. Charles opened his eyes, only then realizing he’d closed them at all. Then, with a quick burst of motion, he stretched his waist and shoulders as far out as he could (much further than any normal human can), and with an audible pop!, he drew the bags into his Negative Zone body, where they would stay, safe, until presumably he would be able to release them. Charles felt a slight rumbling in his chest as the bags slid into place; something else was moving somewhere in the Negative Zone. It wasn’t a new feeling, or an especially dangerous one. Charles looked back at Kyle, who was still sound asleep. Kyle can handle check out duties himself, Charles figured. And it wouldn’t hurt for me to get going, either. He stepped to the window and, when he was sure no one was looking, stepped out of the window, aiming first straight up into the air, and then as best as he could manage, toward Boston, and the Massachusetts Academy. With the Nega-Bands increasing his flight speed, he would be there in no time at all.
As he neared the school, Charles sank below the tree line, then dropped to the ground in an out-of-the-way corner within visual distance of the school. He popped back into his more human form and pulled the small bag off his shoulder. There, in the woods, Charles dressed for his interview. He had opted to wear the standard Massachusetts Academy uniform Joe had “scavenged” after their last visit. Once he was finished, Charles repeated his earlier trick with the one leftover bag, and made his way through the forest to the front gates of the Massachusetts Academy.
“Nice outfit,” Emma Frost smirked as he arrived at the front gates. A brown trenchcoat bundled her from the chilly fall air. “But something tells me you’re not here to apply for enrollment, are you?” Charles shook his head no. “Well, come on in to my office, and you can tell me all about it.”
As they stepped into Emma’s beautiful headmistress’ chambers on the Academy grounds, the White Queen pulled off her trenchcoat and hung it on the nearby rack. She was wearing, as she almost always did, skin-tight white clothing. Contrary to their original agreement, Charles had already begun explaining his proposal, and she seemed intrigued.
“I think that sounds like a fine idea,” Emma said. “We certainly can use the staff now that the Academy’s expanded, and it wouldn’t hurt for our ‘special’ students to have one more teacher who knows about their... unusual circumstances.” As she spoke, the White Queen casually pulled off her suit’s jacket.
“And frankly, I wouldn’t mind putting you somewhere where I can keep an eye on you and your friends.”
Charles burned with embarrassment and anger.
“Well you don’t have to be such a dick about it!” he shouted. Emma just looked at him, astounded.
“Excuse me?” she asked. She looked flabbergasted.
“Fine!” he shouted. “It’s not like I’m an idiot, you know!”
“What is the matter with you?” Emma shouted. “I’m going in.” And with that, she forced her mind into Charles’. A moment later, she returned. “Fascinating,” she said. “You have a second mind resting comfortably within your own, just as you, too, reside in his. It’s the most unusual sort of telepathic bond I’ve ever seen, and frankly, it was entirely too muddled before I got there.”
“Was?” Charles asked.
“Yes,” Emma said, completely unapologetically. “I’ve just done the telepathic equivalent of cleaning your room- neatly sorting his thoughts from your own. Frankly, it needed to be done. I’m surprised it’s taken you this long to trip over one another’s emotions.” Charles closed his eyes, and concentrated. Joe? Are you there?
“Fascinating,” he agreed. “Thank you, Ms. Frost! I-“ Emma held up a hand to stop him.
“Wait,” she said. “You’re about to thank me a lot more. The Massachusetts Academy is a prestigious school, and one who’s reputation I take very seriously. I can’t just hire some young man with no formal education to be a math professor here.” Charles face fell. “However,” the White Queen continued, “I would very much like to keep you and your friends at hand, especially so that you can tell me more about this unique bond you seem to have developed. And I most certainly could use extra teaching staff. And so, I propose that you come to work for the Massachusetts Academy as a student instructor, working mostly with our ‘special’ class. A year, two a most, spent hard at work on developing your teaching skills should qualify you for an honorary degree in Education from the Xavier School of Higher Learning, our sister institution. In addition to the salary you will be paid, you and your friends will be invited to live in my departed sister’s penthouse lodgings in New York City, effective immediately. Would that be acceptable?” Emma smiled. She knew exactly how acceptable that was. Charles stammered for the right words.
“Thank you,” was all he could manage. Emma’s reply was cut short when the window behind her shattered open, spraying glass across the room. Just behind the glass shards came an acrobatic figure, dressed in red and black tights. He landed on the back of Emma’s chair, throwing her head forward into the desk, then flipped off the back, and landed crouching on the desk, a large gun pointed directly at Charles’ head.
“Hello,” the man said. “My name is Deadpool. Can you say ‘Deadpool’ boys and girls?” Deadpool looked Charles up and down. “Who are you?” he asked, poking Charles in the nose with his gun barrel.
“Assistant teacher,” Charles replied, still trying to decide whether or not Deadpool was a threat.
“Riiiiiiight,” Deadpool said, winking. “Nudge, nudge, say no more.” He looked back at Emma Frost. “Picking them young, are we, Cher? Oh, that’s right, you can’t answer me, what with your bleeding to death and all.” He turned back to Charles. “Now, tell me right now where the girl is, or I assure you, I will... make... you... turn... into... a... universe?” Mr. Negativity put a hand on Deadpool’s gun. It disintegrated into itty, bitty pieces.
“That’s Mr. Universe to you!” Mr. Negativity shouted. His backhand knocked Deadpool back through the hole he’d made a moment earlier. As soon as he was certain Ms. Frost would be okay, Mr. Negativity followed onto the campus grounds. Deadpool already had another gun ready.
“Look kid,” Deadpool said, “I just got over this thing. Something even more bizarre, frightening, and oddly arousing than the time I walked in on my mom in the shower, okay? So don’t mess with me today! You wouldn’t like me when I’m angry.” He sprayed a stream of bullets into Mr. Negativity’s body.
“What is it you want here, Deadpool?”
“Ah, my adoring fans. I see my reputation precedes me, Space Case! Tell you what, let’s get to the next paragraph with battle stuff, and then we’ll get to the exposition, deal?”
“What are you talking about?” Mr. Negativity asked. He swooped in close, and grabbed a handful of what was supposed to be Deadpool’s costume. Instead, a whole handful of Deadpool’s flesh oozed through his fingers. “Gross! What are you?”
“I’m Batman. I know, I know. You’d think it’s flesh, right? But it snot! I’ve been doing a lot of that lately. Oozing, I mean. Really kills the party mood, most times. But some chicks think its kind of cool. Rawr.” Deadpool kicked Mr. Negativity in the chest, pulling himself free. Mr. Negativity returned fire with a few more Nega-Blasts, but Deadpool somehow managed to avoid them.
A crowd was beginning to form around the two combatants as students left class to find two superpowered types duking it out in the middle of the Quad. From the corner of his eye, Mr. Negativity saw one of the members of Generation X. “Syn-“ he called, before realizing that he couldn’t give away his identity. He flew in a loop around Deadpool, feinted another blast, and a few seconds later made his way back to where he’d started.
“Kid!” Mr. Negativity yelled, pointing at Synch. “Run in and check on your teacher.” He gestured toward Emma’s chambers. With his attention diverted momentarily, Mr. Negativity missed Deadpool’s next attack- a tossed grenade. The weapon fell into Mr. Negativity’s body, where it detonated harmlessly.
“Damn it!” Deadpool howled. “Why don’t you play fair?” He jumped at Mr. Negativity, catching the hero squarely in the face with both feet. Mr. Negativity plowed into the ground. Deadpool, still standing on Mr. Negativity’s face, wiggled his hips and pointed his fingers in the stupidest little dance Charles had ever seen. “Yeah, baby- felt that one, didn’t ya?!? I rule!”
“Dishes sew whom Ellie eighteen,” Mr. Negativity mumbled. For a second, he maliciously considered slamming the Nega-Bands together and letting the Scavenger deal with this mess, but even though his friend’s thoughts were still carefully shielded, Mr. Negativity knew that would be a bad, bad idea.
“What did you say?” Deadpool asked. Mr. Negativity grabbed the mercenary by his ankles (carefully not squeezing them too tightly), and tossed him into the air. By the time Deadpool came back down, Mr. Negativity was on his feet, and caught Deadpool once more by the ankles. This time, he proceeded to bounce Deadpool face-first into the ground- once, twice, three times, four, five.
“I said, ‘This is so humiliating,’” Mr. Negativity answered. “But I was talking about you.”
“Ow,” Deadpool said. “Ow. Ow. Ow. Ow. Ow. Whee! Ow. Ow. Ow. Ow.” Finally, Mr. Negativity stopped.
“Now,” he said. “Are you ready to talk?”
“Oh God,” Deadpool whined. “I think you broke my kidneys.”
“Why did you attack the school?” Mr. Negativity insisted.
“Terry,” Deadpool said.
“Who’s Terry?”
“Terry- Teresa O’Rourke- Siryn. I went to check up on her and her X-Force pals, and they told me that cat witch with a capital ‘b’ had slit my pookie-ookie-ookums’ throat. And I knew if I’d suffered that kind of traumatic injury, I’d probably run home to Daddy. I mean, Banshee’s lost his ability to speak- what?- like seventeen times now? It just frigging ridiculous! Plus, they’ve got band-aid face, whassisname, who blew his whole neck off. So I know she came here, and I want to know where she is.”
*She is not here, Wade.* Synch’s voice pounded into Deadpool and Mr. Negativity’s brains. *I’m synched with Emma now, and I’ve telepathically scanned the campus. She was here a couple of days ago, but then she left again, headed for New York.*


“There, now don’t you feel silly?” Mr. Negativity asked.
“New York, huh? Well then, so long, suckers, and thanks for all the fish!” Deadpool pressed the smiley face buckle on his belt.
Everyone stared at him. He pressed it again. And again. And then again and again and again and again and again. “You sank my battleship!” he sobbed. “My teleporty belty fun thing doesn’t work anymore.”

Mr. Negativity put his hands in the air. “Play along, Deadpool, and I’ll fly you to New York myself,” he whispered. The mercenary nodded a quick nod.
“And that’s our show for today, ladies and gentlemen!” he shouted, putting his hands in the air. Deadpool began taking sweeping bows as Mr. Negativity checked an imaginary watch. “Remember, Boston isn’t too far from New York- and super-battles can spill over into the area. Had this been an actual emergency...” he pointed a finger at every one of the students in the crowd. “Any one of you might be dead. I’m sure your headmasters will have a lesson for everybody tonight in Superhuman Emergency Drills. And the next time we come back, I’ll expect to see some better results, okay? Okay. Come on, Snot Boy.” He grabbed a piece of Deadpool’s uniform, and sailed into the air. Everyone in the crowd just looked embarrassed.
“...next time.”
“...have known it would be a test.”
“...right, you know. We...”
“...Academy.”

“Not bad,” Deadpool said once Mr. Negativity had dropped to a more reasonable speed. “Not bad at all. Ever considered doing mercenary work?”
“Ever considered doing Emergency Superhero Drill Fake Battles?” Mr. Negativity asked.
“Aaah! Giant metal face!” said Deadpool.
“Boo,” said the giant metal face. Charles’ reaction was instant and primal. Something in the back of his mind panicked, and forced its way through the mental screen Joe put between their two minds. He sent only one word: “Danger.”
A net fell atop the two heroes, and pulled them down to the ground. When Mr. Negativity and Deadpool stood to their feet, they faced Mr. Sinister’s private army- the Dark Riders.
“Apocalypse ascends,” said Gauntlet.
“The Twelve are gathered,” said Barrage.
“The last days of all X-Men are here,” said Foxbat. And then, they attacked.

Two bolts of scorching heat blazed from Barrage’s arms and into Mr. Negativity’s chest. Mr. Negativity didn’t flinch. Gauntlet’s weapons roared toward the same target, with the same effect.
“The time of testing is at hand, mutant!” Gauntlet cried.
“Okay, again, I am not a mutant,” Mr. Negativity said. “And, I’m clearly passing this test with flying colors, if you know what I mean.”
Barrage and Gauntlet simultaneously screeched in rage. Not that they could do anything about it.
Meanwhile, Deadpool was contesting with Foxbat. The Inhuman’s claws flashed, slicing a hole down Deadpool’s uniform, and beyond that, through his chest. Deadpool looked down at the gaping wound torn in his flesh. He looked back at the monster’s giant claws. Then back at his chest again.

“That ain’t no knife,” Deadpool laughed. He reached behind his back, and pulled out a very, very large machete. Foxbat shrieked like a tiny little girl, and ran off in the opposite direction. He ran straight through Mr. Negativity’s crossfire, and was struck by a stray heat-blast from Barrage. Twin blasts from the Nega-Bands knocked out Gauntlet and Barrage. Mr. Negativity and Deadpool turned to face the hulking form of the last Dark Rider.
Deadpool took one look at the monster facing him, and began drumming on his knees. The big man flexed, and with a loud POP!, a half-sized man came squeezing out from between his shoulders. Deadpool began humming under his breath. Mr. Negativity had to ask, “Um, your mutant power is to make midgets pop out of your back?” Deadpool began playing his imaginary trumpet. The big man grunted, and three more little men sprang from his back. “Heebah-hubba-hobba-hubba,” said Deadpool. Suddenly, Mr. Negativity remembered the big man’s name. At the same time, the big man was caught up in a burst of arrogance, and cried out his own name just as Deadpool finished his song.
“Tusk!” all seven combatants screamed at once. The big man swatted Mr. Negativity aside with a powerful backhand, while his four little helpers piled on Deadpool.
“Gah!” Deadpool screamed. “I’m being set upon by a swarm of midgets! Why does this keep happening to me?” The little men didn’t answer, they just kept poking Deadpool with their impossibly stubby fingers. “Gah!” he cried once more.
Mr. Negativity flew back into the battle with a determined look set on his face. He roared straight at Tusk’s massive form, pouring more and more speed into his charge with every passing inch. Tusk set his stance firmly, and braced for impact. The two met one another with all the force and inertia of a hypothetical physics problem. Another midget went squirting out Tusk’s back as the two prime combatants each took a moment to recuperate from their powerful meeting.
Deadpool drew his very big gun, pointed it, and pulled the trigger. One little midget’s brains went running down his boots. The other three shrieked, and began biting. “Gah!” Deadpool cried, dropping his very big gun.
Mr. Negativity was the first to recover. He scrambled to his feet just moments before Tusk could, aimed his arm at the Inhuman’s face, and let loose a powerful Nega-Blast.
“Ga-“ Deadpool screamed, before being interrupted by a midget’s tiny fist jammed into his mouth.
“Urk!” drooled Tusk, dropping back to the ground with a heavy THUD! His little midget friends waved goodbye, and faded out of existence. Then, like a defeated video game nemesis, Tusk, too, disappeared, taking the bodies of his fallen comrades with him. Then, to Charles’ amazement and relief, Deadpool vanished, too. A familiar feeling washed over Charles, and though it was largely comforting, it made Charles feel very odd, indeed. He could sense, somehow, that a monumental shift in reality had just taken place, though he couldn’t identify precisely how he knew. He looked around, and though the trees of upper New York state still stood in the same spots they had moments before, Charles knew that Deadpool and the Dark Riders had no place in the world in which he now stood, brimming with Negative Zone energy.
“Oh dear God,” he said. “I’m home.”