Angel & Wade | Wednesday Morning (backdated)

[x-deadpool.livejournal.com]

After stewing about almost having to kill North, Wade decides it's time for some stress relief and asks Angel if she'd like to learn some new and interesting things.


It was a trademark of Angel's personality that she didn't question it when Wade texted her telling her to collect gasoline, motor oil, a glass bottle, a rag, and Styrofoam and meet him in the Danger Room. Not that she wasn't dying of curiosity. But it was Wade, and he always had an endgame so Angel just rolled with it. Whatever they were doing, she was sure she wouldn't walk away disappointed.

After what'd happened with David the day before, Wade had needed time to decompress. And once he'd decompressed, he needed to blow something up. It was the way of things. Like nature taking its course. Birds flew, fish swam, Wade Wilson blew shit up. Heading to the Danger Room, he hoped Tabs had gotten his text and was there already. He met Angel in the hallway. "I should've asked you to get more than one bottle," he said, eyeing everything she was holding. "Here, let me take some of that."

"I can go snag a few more if you want," Angel offered as she handed over some of the admittedly questionable supplies. "I just dove into the recycling, shouldn't be too hard."

Wade smiled. "And maybe some more rags, as well. But you brought plenty of motor oil and gasoline. You are definitely my favorite pyro. If you can get the bottles and the rags, I'll check with Tabs to make sure we're set for the Danger Room."

Angel saluted, returning Wade's smile with one of her own before she turned to run back up the main part of the mansion.

Five minutes later she was back with ten more bottles and a bunch of rags. "The items you have requested have been located and delivered, oh great explosives master," she said happily as she made her way into the Danger Room, adding the bottles and rags to the supplies already spread out on the floor. "Tabitha give us the go ahead?"

"Yup," Wade said, gesturing up toward the window where Tabitha was watching their progress from the controls. "So - what we're gonna learn today is your basic Molotov Cocktail. We've got everything we could need here - the Styrofoam is optional, but I'll explain about that in a few minutes. What do you know about Molotov Cocktails?"

Angel cocked her head, a curious expression taking over her face. "Um...they're homemade bombs and I think one might be the reason Mr. Summers has the fake eye and the scars, but those are just rumors I've heard and obviously I've never felt the dying need to ask anyone who would know. Past that, not too much."

Quirking an eyebrow at the mention of Summers' false eye and the possibility of a Molotov Cocktail being involved, Wade waited for Angel to stop speaking, then nodded. "Okay, so the gist of a Molotov Cocktail, it's purpose, if you will, is to be destructive while also being easy to make and use. Traditionally, they've been employed by many different groups, particularly those wishing to cause havoc in urban areas. You can use alcohol as well as gasoline for it and the motor oil isn't necessarily required, but we're going to use it today because it's fun." He grinned. "Any questions so far?"

"Just one - when the FBI arrests me for building explosives in the basement, you're going to break me out, right?" Angel questioned with a bit of a cheeky grin. "Other than that no, no questions."

Wade snorted. "Like I'd let the FBI find you building explosives in the basement. Jeez. Everybody knows you build the good stuff in the attic. Nobody ever looks there." Gesturing toward the accouterments before them, the mercenary picked up a bottle. "Now, for today's lesson, we'll be using some general measurements. Fill the bottle halfway with gasoline, then one fourth with motor oil. Before the motor oil, though, we're going to break up some of this Styrofoam so we can dissolve it in the gas. Like I said earlier, this is basically optional - the Styrofoam, once dissolved, will thicken the gasoline and make it stick to whatever it lands on when the glass breaks. It'll also work with the motor oil to keep it burning longer."

Angel rolled her eyes, trying not to giggle as she picked up a bottle of her own. "I'll keep that in mind. Of course, there's so much junk up in the attic I don't think we could fit even a small bomb up there, never-mind get ourselves up there to build one." She picked up the gasoline, carefully filling her bottle halfway and keeping a cautious eye to make sure not even a drop of gasoline spilled over. "So basically the Styrofoam makes for a bigger boom?" She guessed as she finished with the gasoline, stopping to do a quick check and make sure nothing had gotten on her before going for the Styrofoam.

"Not bigger, necessarily," Wade said. "But longer. And more interesting. It does more damage that way. If you're just looking for a boom, you could use liquor or something. Cheap vodka would work easy. But if you want to, say, start a fire on a roof and make sure it burns long enough for the rest of the house to catch - use the Styrofoam." Which, of course, assumed you weren't a redheaded girl who could burst into flame whenever you wanted. But that was neither here nor there. "So dissolve the Styrofoam, then pour in the motor oil." The mercenary followed his words with a demonstration.

"Awesome." The tone of slight awe was hard to mistake in Angel's voice. Not that she was a pyro or anything - well, she was, but she wasn't one of those crazy people who liked to watch things burn just for the heck of watching them burn. She could appreciate a good fire, though, having caused quite a few herself. She watched with some amount of amusement as the Styrofoam dissolved into the gasoline. "Not that the vodka tidbit is doing me much good, fake IDs aren't exactly all the rage. Still, that'll be cool if I ever find myself cornered in a liquor store." She poured in the motor oil while she was babbling.

Wade snorted. "Seriously - you don't have a fake ID? Since when have they not been all the rage?" As he spoke, the mercenary slid the necessary items over to Angel and then worked on soaking a couple rags with gasoline once she'd finished half filling her bottle. "I'm not making promises, but I could probably help you out with that. Or ask one of my contacts really nicely if they'd be willing to help."

"I'm turning twenty-one in six months, I think I can wait," Angel replied with an eye roll softened by her customary grin. "All though I don't doubt your ability to get me a fake ID. So, gasoline, Styrofoam, motor oil. Check. What's next?"

"You're gonna be twenty-one in six months?" Wade looked askance at Angel. "You look like you're twelve or something, jeez." He shook his head, though. "Next you've got an option - you can tie the rag around the neck of the bottle, if you want, or you can stuff it in. Since we'd like to not spew gasoline everywhere when we toss it, we're going to stuff it."

"That's just 'cause you're old," Angel shot back, smirking. "Tell me, what was it like running with the dinosaurs? And yeah, let's avoid gasoline spewing everywhere - especially, ya know, on the girl who doubles as a walking match."

"Roxy the T-Rex was a blast but she kept trying to eat me. Ronny Raptor was kind of a pain and all the brontosauruses were pacifists, which was just boring," Wade said, stuffing the rags down the necks of his bottle and Angel's. "Now, my walking match, I need you to light one of these and I'll toss it so you can see how it works. Then you light the second and you can toss it, okay?"

"I bet that healing factor of yours really came in handy when Roxy tried to take a bite out of you." Angel was trying very hard to keep a straight face (and barely not succeeding) as she held out her hand. A blue flame sparked to life, dancing above her palm, and she held it over the bottle Wade held out to her, lighting the end of the rag. "Aaaaand ready for take off."

Wade left off all discussion of dinosaurs and took three large steps back, taking Angel with him by holding his arm out horizontally and catching her with it. Then he tossed the bottle in a high arc, watching as it hit the wall across from them and the glass shattered. The gasoline cascaded downward, the flames licking after them almost instantaneously and despite their distance from it, he could feel the heat.

Angel stepped back obediently when Wade's arm caught her, her fascination-filled eyes following the bottle as it left Wade's hand, arced through the air, its journey finally ending when it connected with the wall. A large, slow grin spread across her face as she watched the flames eat down the wall. "So cool," she finally breathed, the reflection of the flames dancing in her eyes. She was almost hypnotized.

"See how the fire's still burning? The Styrofoam makes the gasoline thicker - not like jelly, but just that little bit of substance to keep it from fizzling out too fast." Wade smiled, too, amused by Angel's reaction. "Once this one burns down, you should light and toss yours. Aim for a different section of wall."

Angel tore her eyes away from the flames, searching for a section of wall to target with her own Molotov. "So if there was no Styrofoam, how quickly would the flame die?" She asked curiously as, out of the corner of her eye, she watched the flames burn themselves out. She zeroed in on a spot an equal distance away from where she and Wade were standing and also far enough away from the mess of Wade's Molotov. She repeated the process of lighting the end of the rag on fire before mimicking the way Wade had tossed his bottle. The sound of glass shattering echoed through the room as the renewed heat washed over them - though Angel was more or less oblivious to it.

"Depends on how much gasoline you're using," Wade said. "It's a pretty fast burner. Part of its appeal is that it burns so fast and it follows itself. You can use it as a fuse, sometimes. Miranda Lambert, that gorgeous, country singing goddess, has a video where she does that. You should watch it. It's fun. But once it's gone, it's gone. If it manages to catch other stuff on fire before it goes out, you're good. If not, it just sputters. If it manages to follow the trail of gasoline all the way back to its source - and if there's anything of the source left - you're probably looking at an actual explosion. That's why gas stations are so paranoid."

"Well in their defense, I'd be paranoid too if I had gallons upon gallons of gasoline just stewing less than twenty feet away from me," Angel commented conversationally. "I saw that in a TV show once - not a gas station exploding, but what you were talking about before. Miranda Lambert and all that. Though on that note, I do have to wonder when country music videos started getting so violent."

"I have no answers for you, my young friend. None at all. We do, however, have several more bottles and I feel like your questions about how long gasoline will burn without the benefit of Styrofoam could be answered with a simple demonstration, don't you?" Wade grinned. His friends were being idiots, but he got to teach Angel how to make Molotov Cocktails.

"Encouraging me to experiment with explosives. You are truly an evil man, Wade Wilson," Angel replied with a slightly evil grin of her own. "Truly evil. And before you ask if I'm complaining the answer is no - no, I'm not. Let's get to work."