Survival of the Fittest

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WARNING: Trauma and self-loathing, mentions of abuse, intrusive thoughts, minor violence

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A/N: This is a Reader-Insert fanfic, so I'll be using a few abbreviations. Here's a key:

Y/N = Your Name

Y/L/N = Your Last Name

Avatar = Your codename

Other Notes: Reader is she/her and I pretty much write out Kurt's accent, replacing w's with v's and th's with z's. If it turns out it's too hard for people to read that way, I'll change it.

Enjoy! :)

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It's impossible to enter the Stokes County Maximum Security Facility without proper authorization. The complex is surrounded by a fifteen foot wall topped with five feet of barbed wire. Each gate is tightly guarded, and each entrant is thoroughly vetted before they're allowed within. Between the gates and the facility, there's about a quarter mile of surveilled land, scanned by searchlights from watchtowers and military grade radar equipment.

Inside, it only gets more challenging. There's the main facility, which houses all kinds of dangerous arms dealers and terrorists, each inmate nothing below a class five security threat. Past that, if one wants to enter the secret levels, they'll need to pass a few more checkpoints.

There are the iron barred doors, opened via two guards vetting the entrant and simultaneously turning their keys on opposite sides of the room. Then, the entrant will need a special key of their own, one of only three copies, to open the next door. Another is opened via handprint, after which the entrant crosses a catwalk over a hundred foot drop to get to the cylindrical room at the center of the facility. Indeed, the reason this facility was built in the first place.

The entrant steps into the doorway, and the outer layer of the cylinder spins slowly around until it lines up with a vault-like door. With one successful eye scan, the three feet of solid steel unlatch and open, revealing one of the most classified spaces in the whole country.

So, yes, it is impossible to enter, let alone get to the heart of, Stokes County Maximum Security Facility without authorization. Only the Warden can pass through these measures on a semi-annual basis without raising eyebrows. And, according to every guard, today he did.

They would be wrong.

The person who looks like the Warden steps into the heart of the complex, surveying the room for the first time. The cameras are right where they should be. Pulling out a device, the assumed Warden places it on the wall and waits.

The red light on the camera flickers. It's done.

In two seconds, Mystique shifts back to herself, a much more comfortable form than the idiotic pig whose identity she stole. Where is the real Warden? Safe, unfortunately. He'll wake up in time to face the consequences.

Speaking of, Mystique strides to a computer panel near the room's center. These past few months will have been worth it if her intel is correct. She types in a long code, pressing a button that flashes white. The center of the floor begins to rise up with a loud mechanical whirring. She smiles widely as the tank hidden below reveals itself, as well as the gargantuan man trapped inside it.

He must be nearly eight feet tall, his thick arms and legs chained to the tank's bottom. He looks to be asleep, thanks to that greenish liquid he's submerged in. She'll take care of that. A few more inputs and the liquid begins to drain away.

Mystique puts her hand on the reinforced glass. "Wake up, Cain." She calls gently as his head emerges from the surface, "It's time you had a long overdue reunion with one Charles Xavier."

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