Release, Part Two

by Tangerine

"You know, I wouldn't do this for anybody but you," Warren said, frying pan in one hand, spatula in the other.

"I should hope not," Betsy replied, still grinning from the view. "If I caught Ororo or Jean with you, like this, I may jump to the wrong conclusions." She sipped her tea and leaned back to read the front page of the New York Times. "Nice apron, by the way."

"Ha, ha, it was the only one I could find, and the last thing I needed was to spill something hot all over me. The results would have been disastrous." Warren was surprised he managed to say that with a straight face.

"I think you naturally attract the colour pink, as horrid as it may be."

Warren raised an eyebrow. That was new. "How so?"

"I'm sorry I'm the one who has to tell you this, but that other costume you had? The blue and pink one?" Warren nodded. "Apocalypse wanted you to be his Angel of Death, yet he put you in pink and blue. That alone raises some questions about dear old Apocalypse."

Warren paused and thought about that a moment before smiling at the idea. "You may have a point. I never thought about that, but it was pretty ugly costume. I'm ashamed I stayed with for so long."

"Not as much as I'm ashamed I'm still wearing that blue monstrosity. I really should get a new one, but I like the reaction I get with the thong." Betsy sighed deeply. "I suppose I just can't win."

"Betts?" Warren's voice seemed a bit strange at that. "How do you like your eggs?"

"Cooked, I suppose. I ate a raw one back in finishing school, threw up over everything, quite embarrassing that was. Why?"

"How about en flambe?!" Warren frantically looked for a lid or water or something. The frying pan was flaming, singing the ceiling, and the eggs were mere cinders now. Betsy jumped up quickly and threw her tea on the fire. It hissed out, and an incredible look of relief spread over Warren's face. "I don't think we'll be having eggs today." He sighed and pushed the remains of the charred eggs into the garbage.

"That was exciting," Betsy mumbled, sitting back down. She poured herself another cup of tea and continued to scope the newspaper, stealing glances at Warren every now and then. He bent down, routing through the cupboards in search of cereal, and Betsy grinned. "Keep up the good work, blue buns."

"I'm going to pretend I didn't hear that," Warren called from within the dark confines of the cupboard.

"Fine." She looked up just in time to see Jean, Ororo and Rogue land on the balcony. "Did I happen to mention I was going shopping today?"

"No. Why?" Warren feared the answer and slowly pulled his head out of the wood kitchen ensemble. Quicker than Betsy had ever seen him move before, he was out of the kitchen, down the hall and into the bedroom without even using his wings.

"Hello," Betsy greeted the fellow X-Woman as she opened the balcony door for them.

"Was that Warren?" Jean asked, looking in the direction he fled.

"Perhaps the more important question, sugah, is where did ya get that absolutely adorable apron. If Ah could just get Remy inta one of those, the world would be a better place for it." Rogue looked off into space dreamily.

"Perhaps Warren will be mad we came early. He did not appear to be dressed for company." Ororo smiled then sniffed slightly. "What is that interesting smell?"

"Burnt eggs. Tea?" They graciously accepted and sat down, chatting about recent events at the mansion when Warren re-emerged into the kitchen, strutting about as an male would in a room full of women.

"The clothes-less wonder returns," Jean announced with an elaborate gesture of her hands. The others just laughed, trying with no avail to hide their grins.

"I had an apron on," Warren protested, and they only laughed harder. Warren grumbled but sat down. "It was Betsy's idea. I was only being nice." He tried to look wounded, but the more he thought about it, the more the whole dreadful situation lightened. The next half an hour passed quickly.

"Remember, it's your turn to vacuum. I'll see you at the mansion," Betsy murmured, kissing him passionately. Rogue and Ororo had the grace to blush, but Jean just smiled. They giggled all the way out the door.

* * *

The vacuum whirred loudly as Warren slid across the floor. He might as well get the dreadful chore done before he had to go the mansion. The music blared loudly in background, and Warren sang in a voice anyone rarely heard.

"She wanted to test her husband, she knew exactly what to do. A pseudonym to fool him, she couldn't have made a worse move. She sent him scented letters and he received them with a strange delight!" He belted out, dancing happily with the vacuum. "Just like his wife, but how she was before the tears, and how she was before the years flew by, and how she was when she was beautiful, she signed the letter...!" He did a gallant leap through the air, and landed on the other side of the cleaning device. He swayed it about passionately. He flailed his hands about madly, moving to the music. He looked like an idiot, but he didn't care. He gasped in a breath and continued, ". . . All yours, Babooshka, Babooshka, Babooshka-ya- ya!"

He landed on his knees and looked up, expecting to see the invisible audience he was preforming for. He was sorely disappointed. Betsy and Rogue stood there, both with amused expressions. "Betsy forgot her purse," Rogue explained, while Betsy grabbed it from the table. "Ah had no idea you were so musically inclined."

He was dying. Within the span of forty minutes, he had managed to totally humiliate himself. His face burned purple, but he lifted his head proudly.

"Ah would love ta see the nude version of that," Rogue commented, "or maybe Remy would be willing to perform that for me, with that cute little apron." Betsy smiled as Rogue's mind buzzed with ideas.

"Goodbye again, luv," Betsy said in all seriousness, but the minute the door closed, her loud laughing betrayed her.

* * *

By the time Warren arrived, he was actually looking forward to the training session. The morning had been enough for him. He just wanted something normal.

He walked down the Danger Room and looked to see if anyone was there to greet him. They weren't. Instead, he headed to the change rooms to quickly get dressed. He opened his locker only to see a fluorescent pink apron staring him in the face. He sighed, for information travelled fast in the X-Men. He quickly dressed in uniform, and then returned to the Danger Room.

"You're late," Scott said coming up behind him. Warren sighed inwardly. Lecture time. "When I say seven o'clock, I mean seven o'clock, Warren. I'm not going to rearrange my schedule just so you can goof around all morning."

"I wasn't goofing off!" Warren protested. "I'm here, aren't I? Okay, maybe a bit late, but I had to vacuum." It came out sounding like a whine though Warren had not meant it to be.

"Vacuuming?" If Warren could have seen his eyebrows, they would have been raised.

"Vacuuming."

"That's all?" Warren gave him an odd look at the suspicious tone. "I seem to have heard a radically different story from Jean. Nude cooking? Warren's hit parade? The last thing we need is for you to get arrested for disturbing the peace and indecent exposure!"

Warren blushed. "Nobody could see or hear me. I pay enough for that apartment, I should hope it's soundproof, and furthermore, what I do in the privacy of my home is my business. If I want to walk around naked in an apron, I have every right to do so!"

"I just want you to be careful. With the FOH running around half crazy because of Creed's assassination, and Operation: Zero Tolerance, we can't afford any trouble. Next thing you'll be telling me is you've been ticking off FOH members for fun." Scott glared like only a zealous leader can, and Warren looked to the ground. "Please, Warren tell me you're joking."

"It was just some moron on the phone this morning. I sort of made fun of the guy. It was harmless. The guy was spouting death threats for Heaven's sake. What was I supposed to do?"

"Hang up."

"Well, yeah, maybe I could have done that, but ah, to hell with this. I'm sorry, I'll be more careful next time, though I still can't believe you're getting mad at me for this." Warren pouted for a while and Scott sighed deeply. "How long is this going to take?"

"Maybe an hour if you hurry up," Scott said. "Just try to survive as well as you can in there. I'll start you on lower difficulty levels and work upward. Remember, the object of this is to see how well you are in combat with these wings. I've turned the safeties off; and I'll be watching." Scott walked into the control room. "You ready?"

"Yes," Warren yelled up. He was nervous, he shouldn't be but he was. He'd been through these sessions before, but he never had to prove himself before. He was painfully aware that his wings didn't exactly make him the most powerful X-Man around. He hadn't been much of a fighter before Apocalypse, and now with his old wings back, he wasn't sure he could even be of any help as a superhero.

He stood, battle ready, waiting for whatever was coming to come. Several battles drones appeared and began shooting at him. He took to the air without a second thought. His wings beating rapidly, he swept around them, directing their gunfire towards them. An old strategy but one that worked nonetheless. The drones blasted each other out of their misery.

"Level Two," Scott announced from the deck.

Warren dodged the flying spikes that were coming towards his heads. He moved gracefully through the rings and bars, testing his reflexes. He avoided the large columns that sprouted at him from all directions.

"Level Three."

Warren quickly got out of the way of Pyro's flame and Blob's huge body as it fell from the sky. He had to use his brains for this one. Oh God, what brains?

He felt something hot hit his wings. Mystique stood behind him with a laser in hand. He flipped over backwards and kicked her hard in the head. She fell, much easier here than it would have been in real life. He charged Pyro, which sent the Australian man flying. The Blob grabbed his wing and impaled him into the concrete. Warren struggled to get free, but it was of no use; the Blob was beating him to a bloody pulp.

"Computer, end program!" Warren hollered as his head hit the concrete for the second time.

"Action not permitted. Security clearance one requested."

"Damn it, Scott! Stop the goddamn program!" He looked up to see him talking to Cannonball and ignoring him. Some instructor indeed. Through the pounding in his head and his bloody face, he tried to remember the code. What code? Security Clearance One, he didn't have that one or at least he couldn't remember if he had that one. They all tended to blur after awhile.

"Poor, pretty boy Angel." Blob laughed as he bashed Warren's face into a near by wall. Suddenly, Blob disappeared to be replaced only by air. Warren fell to the ground and immediately brought his hands up to his bloody face.

"Warren? Are you okay?" Scott rushed in, followed by Cannonball. Warren didn't answer. "It is your eyes? Dear god, are you blind? Is it a concussion? Your legs? Damn it, Warren, answer me!" Scott pulled Warren's hands away from his face as Cannonball grabbed a first aid kit.

"My nose! The goddamn program broke my nose. Thank you, Scott. That's just what I needed. Get away from me!" Warren yelled, shoving Sam away.

"Ah'm sorry, Angel, this is mah fault. Ah shouldn't have come ta talk ta him. Ah am so sorry," Sam rambled on. He offered Warren a Kleenex for his bleeding nose.

"No, it's my fault. I should have been watching," Scott apologised, pulling Warren to his feet. "Warren, I'm going to take you to see Hank. You might have a concussion."

"I'd be surprised if I didn't," Warren muttered walking towards the door. His voice sounded distorted and nasal. His whole face ached, and his arm throbbed. "This has just been one hell of a day." He had been able to live through the humiliation of the day with a smile, he had tolerated the bastard who called him this morning, but this, this had just destroyed the remainder of his good mood. Figures it would be the high and mighty Cyclops who destroyed it. It was just like him.

"I really am sorry," Scott said as he lead Warren by the arm to the infirmary. Warren merely growled in anger. His nose, his poor, formally perfect nose.

"Oh my, what has happened to our previously impervious bird of feather?" Hank bounded in. He grabbed a washcloth and stuffed it up against Warren's face.

"Scott broke it," Warren mumbled through the white rag. "He broke my bloody nose."

"Scott! I'm surprised at you. I didn't think you the type of person to go around breaking other peoples schnozes. Shameful!" Hank joked, grabbing a huge piece of gauge and stuffing it into Warren's nose.

"Ow! Jeez, Hank, that hurts," Warren whined, as Hank poked at his swollen nose. He was intentionally whining now. "It is okay? Will it heal?"

"I'll have to reset it, but yes. It may hurt to blow it for about a month, though," Hank said as he grabbed his nose between his fingers. "Warren, this shall hurt quite a bit. Do you want any medication?"

"No, just get it over with!" Warren said angrily. Hank bit his lip as he applied pressure on Warren's bridge. He moved it quickly and a loud snap ran out. Warren screamed shrilly, and mentally swore he'd get Scott for this.

"Sorry about that," Hank apologised. "Aspirin?" He offered the bottle to Warren, who gladly accepted. Warren popped two pills in. "Your face is pretty... mashed up, for lack of a better word. You most likely have a concussion. I want you to stay here and rest. I will monitor you and make sure you do not die."

"Thank you for being so blunt, Hank," Warren said sarcastically, lying down. He felt like sleeping now. His head was pounding. The medical bed was uncomfortable, but he didn't care. He was out like a light the minute his head hit the pillow.

[next part]

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