round 3 overflow post

[starkmodistries.livejournal.com]

Round 3 Overflow Post

This post is for Round 3 fills only. We ask that when a round hits 8500 comments, fillers begin moving their fills to this post.

Format:
SUBJECT LINE -- Round #, short description of fic (ex: "Alex/Hank, lab partners")
--- Link to the prompt
--- Text of the prompt

--- Link to the fill
OR
--- Entire text of the fill

EXAMPLE:
Prompt: http://xmen-firstkink.livejournal.com/6437.html?thread=1038472#t2038174

Charles/Erik -- Charles is a bakery owner whose most frequent customer is Erik.

Fill: http://xmen-firstkink.livejournal.com/6437.html?thread=0139482#t4502942

Charles started off the morning the same way he always did...

Comments

Opposition - Bonus Scott P.O.V - Part 1a/3

[(Anonymous)]

It ought to have been a fairly simple task. Their intel had suggested that the both the reactor and the control room were poorly guarded and that a simple distraction to get past the gates would be sufficient to allow them to shut the whole plant down. Indeed, things had seemed to be running fairly smoothly initial, with Alex’s distraction techniques proving quick and effective and with the plant’s corridors seemingly unguarded.

A sudden stinging sensation in Scott’s neck and the blackness which had followed belied that assumption.

When he woke up he immediately reached back and pulled the tiny dart from his skin, inspecting it carefully. Something so small suggested that either its effects would be limited, or that whatever he’d just been hit with was very powerful; and Scott was experienced enough to know that in situations like this it was almost never the easy option. He reached for his communicator with the intent of warning Storm of the fact that his part of the mission had been potentially compromised but found that his movements were sluggish and his hand dropped back to his side before he could complete the action. He made another attempt to reach for his communicator but his arm seemed unwilling to respond to him. Then, to his alarm, he found himself crushing the hypodermic in his gloved palm despite having had no intention to do such a thing. He was walking then, still in the direction of the reactor, but the motions of his limbs felt wrong.

He heard a sudden sound on the corridor parallel to the one he was on, muffled footsteps, sneaky but not sneaky enough. He rounded the corner and realised that his hand had gone to his visor and he was about to let off a blast even before he consciously pinpointed the figure which had reached the junction at the same time as him. Far quicker however, did he recognise the familiar voice yelling out "Hey!"even as the figure lunged sideways to avoid a second blast.

He fought to pull his hand down as Alex found his feet and looked at Scott incredulously. "WOAH! It's just me, Alex.”

Scott’s fingers jerked against his will and Alex only managed to splutter out, “Storm s-," before he went crashing into the wall.

Alex’s angry yell of "-THE FUCK, SCOTT?!" was a reassurance to Scott of his young brother’s natural resistance to the power of Scott’s mutation, however this paled in comparison to the look of alarm on Alex’s face as he rolled away from yet another blast. Scott felt a rush of relieve as Alex leapt to his feet and took off at a sprint down the corridor, clearly seeking shelter from the blasts. Scott fought to resist his body’s attempts to follow the younger mutant, realising with horror that each time the shield on his visor was being deactivated it was being done so fully, unleashing the full force of his mutation rather than just the minimum amount needed as was his usual practice. He could hear Alex yelling out a reminder of their mission to him and realised from the way the sound echoed that his younger brother was foolishly wasting this opportunity to flee. Alex was clearly trusting Scott to regain his senses at the thought of a mission, as if the act of attacking his teammate, his brother, might not have been enough for him to realise that his behaviour was wrong. The reprieve offered by the fact that whatever was controlling Scott’s body had no apparent interest in moving any faster than walking pace was limited and the moment Scott rounded the corner Alex, having wasted his chance to flee, was sent sprawling to the hard concrete floor.