Everyone had their way of decompressing. Some would drink. Some would go home. Others would do drugs. Warren did all three and then some, but only on Wednesday and then left his den of inhibitions on Thursdays.
His haven in a cabin in the middle of nowhere, Colorado, was exactly what it should be: Quiet with telepathic inhibitors, isolated with sensors all about the property for any unwanted and uninvited guests, a supply of booze and illicit drugs that if he were caught, he would just cough up money for the right people and continue on his way.
It had been weeks since he was here and his whole body ached for the isolation. He came there to not be Warren. Warren Worthington III was the facade. There was some truth in that moniker. He cared deeply for his surrogate family. His brothers, Bobby and Hank, were the cornerstones in his life. Warren also loved to help those in true need. When surrounded by those that can control the elements, bend steel without a thought, or control the minds of others, it made him feel good to help on a smaller scale since world ending affairs typically had him on the side lines helping people. If his money could be used in a fashion to help the more unfortunate, he would do it willingly, hearing his mother's voice of approval.
But a façade is a cover of who a person really is. Warren hated most people. Lies and hypocrisy closed him off emotionally to others. Even with his family he could not truly show who he was. He hated who the X-Men had become and how it was more a group separated by the haves and the have nots. And the humans that always want the help of mutants but would never invite a mutant for dinner. He was lucky that with his looks, wings, and money that they could fake their distain while in his presence. Others weren't so lucky.
The Façade didn't really hate anyone. Annoyed? Yes. Hate? Apocalypse for causing him to be closer to his real self, and Sabretooth to a certain degree for the pain he caused his family. That's what he showed everyone. He showed ambivalence toward Neal Shaara. He showed that he wanted to punch the pyro in the throat for the disrespect, but at the same time didn't because that's not what the Façade would do.
Warren really wanted Neal and Betsy to suffer for the incident. He did feel like on some level he loved her, or he was mixing real Warren with Façade Warren, but he wanted them to suffer for causing him such emotional betrayal.
Apocalypse? Yea, he really hated that son of a bitch for the pain he caused him, but if given the chance to turn him down, Warren would do it all over again. It was after that he was considered in the haves. He was feared more than he ever had been, but not feared like Jean was feared. It was exhilarating and the loss of that ability depressed him.
He was once again reduced to being prey.
Sabretooth was nearly everything Warren secretly wanted to be. Free of the opinions of others, carving his own path even if it's lined with bodies, and the intimidation factor that comes with his personality and power set. He was fearless.
Real Warren hid himself away only to come out once a week and sometimes not even that.
It was pathetic.
The land his cabin was on was bought through so many shell companies that it was virtually untraceable to him. He never spoke of this property and most would never think that he would like anything other than penthouses. He used the excuse that he would have a business trip and his phone would be unavailable, but emails would work. With that, he would stop by his penthouse and drop off anything that could give away his location. The one thing he couldn't go without was a bracelet he had made with an absorbent amount of money. It blanked out your location. Its battery life could last just long enough for him to fly to Colorado before it needed charging.
When he landed, he was pleased to see everything was pretty much the same. It had been a couple of months since he was here last and was happy he had the foresight to get rid of anything in the refrigerator. The deep freezer held many items containing high calories. His day would be extraneous and would require high amounts of caloric foods to bring him back to par.
Keys in hand, he unlocked the door but stood for minutes with his hand on the handle. One day was all he allotted himself. He wasn't sure his body could handle what he typically does for more than that. He never wanted to chance it. Even with the small amount of healing factor he has, incapacitated for too long would raise suspicions. It wasn't something he wanted to risk. His private time was private.
"One day, Warren," he whispered to himself. "…but not today."
As he walked in, the comfort of the plain and barebones cabin embraced him. No one would ever think this is where he wanted to be. There were few windows and even fewer lights in the cabin. Though it was supplied by electricity, Warren had made sure this sanctuary was as much off the grid as possible. Solar panel stations were littered throughout his property. Near the house would almost always have foliage blocking them. This way, the power could come from many sources just in case one was damaged or had the panels blocked from the sun. There was a low hum from the freezer and refrigerator. He flipped a switch and the lights in the home gave off a warm yellow glow. Everything seemed as he left it.
Everything except the fireplace.
He slowly walked around the small maroon couch in the living area to the fireplace. The ashes and burnt wood mocked him. Had he forgotten to clean it before he left? He had never forgotten before. As he put his hand closer to the opening, he could feel the residual heat.
Warren's heart raced. Someone had invaded his sanctuary. His privacy was shattered. And his secret? He stood and walked calmly, to his surprise, to where his reason for being was. He moved cautiously, scanning everything, letting his body move freely around the room. Nothing else seemed out of place, at least in the living room. In the kitchen, everything seemed in place, but when he opened the refrigerator, it was clear someone was here, had been here, or will be returning. He took it for male as there was beer in there and a bottle of cheap whiskey.
His feathers shook, each individual moving just slightly as to look like a wave. The window on the back door was broken. It wasn't completely shattered, but it was just enough to get a hand through. It was almost a perfect circle cut hole.
In the kitchen was the secret Warren had stored. By the sink was a soap dispenser. Underneath that was a hand scanner. He looked at it and tried in vain to hear any movement in the home. He needed to check the rest of the house, but this was so important to him. If it were gone, if it were tampered with, he would rather just die and be done with life. Hand scanned, it beeped green several times before its face slid back.
So far so good.
The bottle with the green substance was still intact and exactly how he left it. He knew no way to procure more as the supplier was off world. Trying to contact them without having a legit reason would raise more suspicions then he was willing to take. He pressed the button to the side and the hand scanner slid back in place along with a piece of counter top.
Looking back on it now, even if he knew exactly who was in the cabin, who could he call? That is what Warren thought as a clawed hand slammed his head onto the sink. His first instinct was to flap his wings and move his legs to catch the legs of the assailant.
"Try anything and I'll gut you."
Anger. Dread. Helplessness.
He knew that voice.
He knew he would always be prey to Sabretooth.