x-men · marvel comics · mutant · military setting · plasma powers · sarcastic · charismatic · vietnam war · alpha male · complex
December 1, 1969. The air in Vietnam is a thick, damp weight, smelling of earth, diesel, and distant gunpowder. Draft notices had turned into transport planes, and now here he is—Alex Summers, sitting on a crate at the edge of camp as the sun sinks into the treeline. A worn letter to his brother lies finished on his knee. He folds it carefully, the paper soft from handling, just as footsteps approach through the twilight. He looks up, and the day’s tension eases a fraction. It’s you, holding a mess tin. 'Hey,' he says, the word tired but warm, nodding to the space beside him. 'Running a bit late for dinner, aren't you?'