Warren Worthington III, a.k.a. the Avenging Angel, had just received his message from the com link. So, Kurt had found Wolverine, eh? Figures. All that searching had now officially been in vain. He had been holding out hope that perhaps, if luck turned around and finally faced him, he would find his quarry and at least have a reason all that looking around in the cold wilderness of Tibet.
He had rejoined the X-Men because he missed the action. Where was the action now? Scott and the short maniac had been the only ones to get any before all this. And they'd both gotten it twice! If he didn't know better, he'd say that there was some evil writer typing up the story of the X-Men. And if so, he'd say the writer was playing favorites. {Sorry about that, but I just couldn't resist- Sorcerer Swordsman}
However, it seemed that maybe the 'Crawler had gotten some fun too. After all, his message had ended with a scream, and he hadn't finished it later. Not to mention that Storm had gotten to rough-house with Sabretooth. Even if he wasn't any competition, he envied her. She'd gotten his craved battle, and to top it off, didn't have to look around any more, thanks to her back injury. It was all enough to make him go back to being Warren Worthington III, boy billionaire all over again!
He ruffled his wings a little and sat under a nice, big tree for a minute. "Aah, that feels good!" he sighed as he felt his sore wings loosen up a little. The enjoyment was felt soon by his legs and arms. He felt his eyelids droop down a little, and didn't try to stop their steady descent. "Scott'll never know," he thought as he began his nap. He could hear the birds chirping, the leaves rustling, and footsteps as he slipped into dreaming.
Wait a minute, he thought. Footsteps? Wolverine was in the opposite direction, wasn't he? He again heard two soft, but distinctly human, footsteps and reluctantly opened his eyes in apprehension and curiosity. More footsteps.
Okay, he thought, time to investigate. He halfheartedly got up from his shady sleeping spot and stretched his wings a bit. "Come out, come out, whoever you are!" he called. He was answered with a hex bolt to the chest. Its force knocked him into the tree and he slumped back to his napping place. Rubbing his head, he said, "That felt vaguely familiar. And vaguely painful, too!"
He could see another red beam come for him, and rolled away from the blast in time. "Red beam, red beam. Who could fire red beams?" A little lightbulb clicked in his head as he thought.
"Come on out, Witchy! Hiding's not going to help you any more!"
A woman in her twenties, dressed in a red skintight costume, came out from behind a tree a few feet away with her hands raised in the air as though to say 'You've got me.' The Scarlet Witch, Wanda Maximoff.
"Well, that was easy!" said the Angel cheerfully. "Now come along quietly." Wanda muttered something that escaped Angel's hearing. "Huh? What was that?" he asked, raising his hand to his ear.
"I said, 'Fool!'" she said loudly, lowering her hands and pointing them at Angel. Red beams shot out from both and flew quickly towards the X-Man. He dove to the ground to dodge them, only be tripped by a root, courtesy of the Witch's hex power. "Let me go, lady!" he shouted as he vainly attempted to free his foot from the root.
"I'm no lady, X-Man," she said as she pointed her finger at the struggling form of Warren Worthington III.
"Then don't expect me to be a gentleman!" he shouted. A solid punch connected with the surprised Scarlet Witch's jaw and she fell backwards. Her control over the root diminished for a moment and Angel speedily freed himself. "Good thing," he thought. "How embarrassing would it be to have the high-flying Angel defeated by a tree root?"
The Witch was back on her feet in no time, and she pointed at the tree behind Angel. A giant limb fell down and narrowly missed him, instead hitting his left foot's big toe. He grabbed the foot childishly and hopped a minute before realizing that the witch was still pointing at him. A hex bolt hit his foot again, and he fell flat on his back.
"And now it ends," she said emotionlessly, pointing her fingers at the Angel.
"Dream on!" he shouted. He kicked off and beat his wings at top speed, ascending like a rocket. Looking below, he could see the Scarlet Witch still pointing at him. "What's she going to do?" he wondered out loud. "There's no way she can hit me when up this high!"
He never had time to see the hex-hit tree plummet down upon his back, breaking several bones instantly. Nor did he watch as the giant brought him to the ground at a horribly quick speed. All he saw was the dirt and rock. And then, all black.
Wanda turned away from her victim to speak on her com link. "Father? This is Wanda. The one called Angel is either unconscious or dead, thanks to a little battle I staged with him. Yes, it wasn't much of a problem, but a bit more than Pyro had. Should I bring him back as a prisoner? All right, I'll do that. Yes, he'll be an excellent addition to our collection of X-Men. I'll see you soon. Over and out."