Ker-chug, ker-chug, ker-chug.
Warren gulped down beer without a care that he was only seventeen and nowhere near old enough to drink.
The school was especially strict about that sort of thing. Teenage Mutants were easily swayed by their emotions, and their powers could be extremely unstable. Alcohol and other stimulants were strictly forbidden.
"Well, well! The school's model student, the head of the student council's discipline committee, Mr. Warren, can really hold his liquor!"
Warren tossed aside the empty can. Ignoring Kurt, who had appeared from who knew where and was sitting by the window, he silently went back to fiddling with his electric guitar, making a horrendous racket.
"Ugh, what the hell are you playing?"
Kurt's deep-blue face twisted in pain. His complaint was drowned out by the chaotic, shrill notes, and Warren didn't react at all.
Bzzzt!
A puff of blue-black smoke burst into the air. The electric guitar's cable had been yanked out, and it gave one last feeble wail, like a hen held by the wings, waiting for the knife.
"Look at you. You're nothing like a 'pure white Angel.' A fallen Angel, maybe!"
Warren turned his head and stared blankly for a moment without replying. He set down the guitar and reached for the crate of beer, only to come up empty-handed and get a face full of blue smoke instead.
"Kurt, don't push it!"
Nightcrawler's lean, indigo figure slipped through space with ease. Warren angrily flapped a wing at him, but all he managed to do was scatter one cloud of smoke after another.
He pushed off with his legs and used his one uninjured wing to launch himself four or five meters into the air. Landing on a thick crossbeam, he chased Kurt as he teleported around, the two of them bickering