Master, Passion, Greed

James and Natasha

Interrogation

The interrogation floor smelled of chemicals and mildew. It was on the bottom most part of the basement and required a dozen check points, password inputs, voice recognitions, and retinal eye scans just to make it to this part of the tower. Even FRIDAY had limited access in these parts, a fail safe installed by Tony and Bruce with the A.I.'s permission. Where all the other floors had at least 100 cameras and microphones hidden in specially chosen places, their own floor with double the amount for their darlings' safety, this floor only had 15. Wide range scanning most of the floor and leaving no blind spots for anyone to sneak in or escape without being recorded. There were also signal jammers to avoid anyone being tracked while contained here.

There were three rooms on the floor, all circular in shape and 1000 square feet in size. The ones on the far left and right were the equivalent of holding cells. Except there were no cells inside, only chains and other forms of restraint to keep the prisoners contained until the interrogators were ready for them. All their clothes, weapons, and items were stripped from them before they were catalogued and burned at the edge of the floor, smoke filtering out through the vents that led to the streets surrounding the building. The prisoners were then restrained to one another, naked as the day they were born, and wearing stained and dirty manacles they would wear for what remained of their lives.

The room in the middle was where everything happened. Where the screams would emanate, where the disgusting smells of burnt flesh and bodily releases filled the air and remained until it the interrogation reached its end. Until then, all the prisoners would see firsthand what was waiting for them the moment they entered the room where nightmares fled. The room that held unimaginable horrors. The room where they give up everything, secrets and dreams and so much more.

The room where they go to die.

The prisoners were already stripped and detained in the opposite rooms on the floor, special thanks to Tony's Iron Legion. A durable force of robots controlled by the meticulous FRIDAY. James and Natasha normally started preparing for the interrogations during the stripping and restraining process, but tonight was a night full of setbacks and mistakes. Neither were fully prepared for what was to come, but they ventured down to the rooms all the same.

Natasha was able to retain her levelheadedness and focus, pondering the multitude of secrets they hope to unravel before the night is out. Imagining all the different ways to get that information. All the screams they would earn from their keen and pointed torture. Still, even as she purposefully focused on the task at hand, the memory of Violet's moans kept shooting back to the forefront of her mind like a boomerang. It was Natasha's new dream, aching and burning for the day she would get Violet to make those wonderful, beautiful moans. She never thought she'd be jealous of snow, but here she was. Envious of what the weather could do instead of her. She took a calming breath, shaking her head slightly. They had a job to do, secrets to unravel. She can ruminate on her darling after it was over.

James was in an even more frazzled state of mind. For the first time in so long he didn't want to be down here. He wanted to be with their chosen. Brushing the hair back from her face, watching those plump lips open and releasing the most innocently erotic sound he's ever heard in his life. Where Natasha was pushing Violet to the back of her mind, James solidly kept her and current state at the forefront of his.

It was a problem. He knew it was a problem. There was a job he needed to do, and he couldn't accomplish it if he was too busy thinking about how vulnerable their darling truly was. With the shit Darcy pulled and all the trauma she's been through, a large part the Avengers doing, it was no wonder she had a multitude of trust issues. He wanted to erase all of that, protect her from all the horrible things living in this world until his last breath.

They entered the floor hand in hand, holding each other close as thought of Violet weak and vulnerable without either of them up there to protect her plagued them. She had Peter to watch over her, along with FRIDAY and Tony, but it wasn't good enough. The irresistible and inescapable need to be at her side consumed them. It was only the arrival of the Iron Legion that brought them to their senses.

"The Prisoners are ready for interrogation. Do you need any further assistance?" FRIDAY'S voice spoke through their speakers.

"Yes," Natasha started, "leave four of your legions here. Two for transport, one for disposal, and one to keep guard at the main door. We're not at our best tonight. We'll need to keep focus on the mission, not the details surrounding it."

"Understood," the legion nodded in unison before eight of the robots turned and moved towards the exit. The four Natasha requested turned in opposing directions and ventured to their assigned positions.

James sighed, fingers rubbing together nervously.

"You're thinking about her too?" Natasha asked in a tone that said she already knew the answer to her question.

James turned his crimson gaze to her, "she wouldn't want us doing this."

"Of course she wouldn't, she's a good person with a kind, generous heart. She'd be disgusted by what we do here." Natasha stated nonchalantly, but her sienna eyes hardened slightly.

"Then why are we doing it?" James questioned, brow furrowing slightly, "why aren't we up there with her right now?"

She sighed, turning just enough to place her hand on his chest, those hardened staring deep into his soul. "You know why, James. We're the only ones who can do this."

He grasped her hand with his human one, "can we? After what happened tonight?"

"Yes," she answered confidently, "whether they are SHIELD or HYDRA, they could have taken her from us. They could have hurt her just as they hurt us, hurt you." She leaned in closely, "don't they deserve to be punished for that?"

James breathed Natasha in, a pleased growl emanating from his throat. "When you put it like that, it makes sense."

She squeezed his hand gently, "but not enough to keep her at bay?"

"Is it enough for you?" James shot back, already knowing her answer.

She smirked softly, "no, it isn't."

"So, where does that leave us?"

Her smirked faded into a frown, "our last resort, I'm afraid."

James froze, realizing what she was referring too.

During the months he was captured by HYDRA, he didn't only lose his arm. He was experimented on, both physically and mentally. The evil organization intended to use and mold him into the deadliest weapon in their arsenal. Unfortunately for him, they were well on their way to succeeding due to constant strain and pressure they put him through during those long and arduous months. Unfortunately for them, though they had made progress, he still had his own mind for the most part, and he had Steve Rogers, Tony Stark, and unknowingly Natasha watching his back.

Aside from the metal arm, a lasting side effect from his time as a living experiment was a set of mental triggers that warped his mind and turned him into their deadly puppet. Or at least, that was their intention. A list of ten words never said in the same order in any casual conversation. Ten words that took him from Bucky Barnes into the Winter Soldier. HYDRA successfully implanted those ten words, but they never got to use him in that state of mind thanks to his brother's daring rescue.

The Avengers have though, with his signed permission each time it was needed.

Since his escape, only three times were all ten words uttered, and each time ended in blood tainted water in the shower with Natasha peppering his back with kisses. It's been 3 years since all ten words were needed. Now he only uses a few words at a time in situations like this when his thoughts are racing, and he needs to focus.

That's what Natasha was referring too.

He sighed, pondering the situation and how distracted he rightfully was with Violet's current state upstairs. The memory of laying her down on Peter's bed, tying her already bound hands and legs to the bedposts to prevent her from any feeble escape attempts rushed through his mind, leaving him breathless. She looked so tired, so heartbreakingly fragile it hurt him to leave her like that. Even with Peter and FRIDAY looking after her, it wasn't enough to put him at ease.

His anxious state made his decision, "no more than three."

Natasha nodded, "We'll start slowly and work our way up. Do you want to change and ready our supplies first?"

"Yes," James agreed quickly, "give me time to prepare for the effects."

Natasha leaned forward and kissed him arduously, intensely. A kiss meant to reassure, not for lustful desires. "Let me know when."

Together they headed towards the interrogation room, forcing open the thick metal doors with ease. Both of them smiled at the cleaned tools splayed out on the metal cart near the middle of the room, the chairs with various types of restraints, the hooks hanging from the ceiling, the chains bolted into the walls, and the assortment weapons and devices hanging all throughout the room and laying in random spots on the floor. Not long ago they were slicing Kilgrave apart piece by piece in that same chair, and now they were about to do something very similar to a whole group of agents.

James and Natasha spent the first few minutes stripping out of their tactical gear, leaving them in nothing but their underwear. James wore his black briefs proudly, his dick still somewhat hard thanks to Violet. Natasha wore matching red, lacy lingerie. The skimpy thong expertly showing off her plump ass. James couldn't help but marvel at it. She returned the favorite by ogling his hard on, smirking in both amusement and lust. So many things she wanted to do with that dick, just as many as James wanted to do with her ass.

Things they couldn't wait to do with Violet.

The next few minutes they set up their stations per se. James normally held the knife while Natasha ensured recording systems were working properly, cataloguing every secret and every action while watching her lover work. James picked out his preferred weapons, Natasha organized the desk and prepared the microphone to record tonight's proceedings in case they miss anything during the process. The mike was old school, straight out of 80's technology but updated enough the get a clear audio recording. Audio was the only thing allowed; cameras were a no go.

Once they were done, the pair looked at each other expectantly. Natasha waiting for the go ahead to start the process, and James preparing himself for pain he would soon endure. He sighed, clenching and unclenching his hands before straightening his back and looking her lover dead in the eyes.

"I love you," he spoke definitely, assuredly.

"I know," Natasha smiled, "and I love you."

He nodded, taking a deep breath, his expression tensing astronomically before giving her a firm jerk of his head. The signal to start his descent. No matter how much he prepared for it, it was never easy to go through.

Natasha wasted no time, not wanting to keep her lover in suspense.

"Zhelaniye"

James immediately growled at the familiar shift in his mind. The turning of the screw that sent his senses completely haywire. Fingers clenching, muscles tightening, mouth snapping shut. A dial turning from 2 to 5. It was only the beginning.

"Rzhavyy"

More of the same, only everything was more heightened. He felt his skin prickle from the drafty air, smell the scent of old blood the chemicals weren't able to reach and the luscious scent of Violet lingering on their clothes in the corner, see the dust floating in the air as gravity pulled the particles to the floor. His growls became more insistent, more intense. Like a wolf in a cage.

"Semnadtsat"

James howled, throwing his body towards the ground and pummeling the stone mortar with his fists, both human and metal. The muscles tensed to a breaking point, forcing him to stand and stretch them out in his frenzied haze. He continued to howl, clawing at his own skin to stop the pain when Natasha's voice stopped him.

"Soldat!" She called to him, voice dark and controlling. He turned his wild, deathly upon her, standing tall and towering over her demure, yet lethal form.

"Gotov soblyudat'," James rumbled, his chest puffing out.

"Vremya dlya doprosa," Natasha responded firmly, gesturing towards the chairs and tools scattered throughout the room.

James growled once more, but this time it was muted, submissive to the Alpha staring him down. Something in the back of his head started screaming, a plea to stop before this got to far. He ignored it. He always ignored it. He stepped forward, his skin touching Natasha's, and then he leaned down to stare eye to eye with her.

"Privesti ikh v."

Natasha smiled, excitement burning in those wonderful Burnt Sienna eyes.

Logan

Xavier's School

It was well into the dawn when Logan finally arrived at Xavier's school, though no one would have guessed it was supposed to be with how harsh and brutal the blizzard remained. The temperature continued to drop. The snow and ice mixture cut into Logan's skin as he hauled ass to the mansion. He didn't care. If he can survive a building being dropped on him, he can survive a little bit of cold.

The front gates opened wide for him, like he was making some grand entrance at some extravagant party instead of rushing in blindly to find out what was so urgent that he was needed. Logan was only called in where violence inevitable, or when Wade was tagging along. Not a lot of people can keep that nutcase in line. The only reason Logan could was because Wade was constantly distracted by Logan's presence and launched into an endless tirade of jokes, insults, and a slew of comparisons to famous actors who sing on Broadway that Logan didn't care to dwell on.

He really hoped Wade had nothing to do with this.

Less than a minute later, Logan pulled up in front of the main entrance. Kicking out the stand and turning off the engine in the same motion. Then he marched up to the doors and pushed them open with a near door shattering force. Snow rushed in behind him, powdering the floor with its white substance. He stopped once he was a few steps in. There was someone waiting for him. An Alpha smelling of vanilla set aflame, like scented candles freshly lit. Cheese, butter, and toast with an undercurrent of hot metal.

Erik Lehnsher, Professor X's Alpha and longtime partner. A successful businessman who ran several different organizations, both legal and shady, and outspoken leader of the Brotherhood. An aggressive group made up of angry Alphas and Omegas who cause chaos and destruction wherever they go all the while spreading their message of supposed equality between the two second genders. A bunch of horseshit in Logan's opinion because nowhere in that message does it even mention Betas and what their treatment would be should this message reach the upper echelon of Government.

If Erik was here, there was no way this could be good.

"Hello Logan," Erik greeted in a polite tone, nodding respectfully to newcomer, "I'm glad to see you didn't waste time. Please leave your bag there. We have much to discuss and this is not the place to do it."

"What the Hell is going on? Why am I here?" Logan cut to the chase, shrugging off his backpack and dropping it at his feet.

"A rare Omega and her friend have been captured. We need your help in extracting them before it's too late." Erik stated bluntly, gesturing towards the left hallway

Logan froze, staring at Erik like his aggressive ideals have finally drawn the Alpha mad. Did he go mad? Did Logan make a wrong turn, ended up in a ditch and this is some terrible fever dream his brain provided so his body could heal itself? Was this really happening? Was he really here for a rescue mission?

Erik looked at Logan expectantly, "come now, Charles and the rest are waiting. You'll receive more information from the other visitors."

With that parting line, Erik turned abruptly and headed towards the left hallway. Logan followed with a muted growl.

Before long Erik and Logan entered the library that also served as a study room for the students. The first person he laid eyes on was Professor X and his high-tech wheelchair looking particularly tired. How long has he been waiting for Logan to arrive? His normally fancy suit looked slightly rumpled, and there were teeth marks poorly hidden near the two scent glands at his neck. The Professor instantly perked up at the sight of Erik and Logan, a weary smile lighting up his kind eyes.

"Logan," the Professor spoke in a relieved tone, pressing the forward button on his chair in order to greet Logan personally.

"Charles," Logan responded stiffly, reaching out and shaking the Professor's hand.

"I almost didn't believe Anna Marie when she said you'd be here in a few short hours. Where were you this time?"

"St. Catherines," Logan answered, eyeing the room suspiciously. "I started heading back a few days ago. Would have made it sooner if it weren't for the storm."

"Oh dear, was there much trouble on the roads?"

Logan shrugged, "nothing I can't handle."

"Still, I'm glad you're here in one piece. Unfortunately, we could really use your help."

"I heard it's a rescue mission, not my specialty as you and your team well know. So why am I here?"

Charles frowned at Logan, "I'd beg to differ. Many of my X-Men's lives have been spared because of your actions, including my own. They might not be as heroic or cinematic, but your knowledge and expertise in the field of battle have been more than useful in protecting the innocent-"

"Why am I here?" Logan interrupted, not in the mood for one of the Professor's speeches. He came to get the job done and he didn't need a lecture to do it. Charles was smart enough to realize that and backed off as a result.

"This is more than a simple rescue mission. More than a standard step by step process." Charles started, backing away from the newcomer and addressing the room instead.

A wide range of people took residence in the library. Some were seated, others standing in random areas throughout the room. Some of them he recognized, some he didn't, and some he knew all too well.

Ororo Monroe, one hell of a fighter and supreme badass, leaned against the frozen windows and watched the scene in front of her with scrutinous eyes. She was not the type of person who liked to be messed with. Ever. Logan rarely caught her in a good mood, if she even had one. Then again, whenever he showed up a bloodbath and countless bodies always followed him. Hard to be in a good mood around someone who's surrounded by death and carnage. Or maybe she just didn't like him? It's a possibility. He is an asshole through and through, and he wasn't going to change anytime soon.

Raven, or Mystique as she preferred to be called, sat crossed legged on one of the tables, picking her nails clean with a sharp knife. A knife she stole from Logan a few years ago. She winked at him when he entered, and he glared at her in return. For someone who was a master of disguise, she sure knew how to stand out when she wanted to. Lime green hair, white contacts, gold eyeshadow and purple eyeliner with blue lipstick to boot, and that just her head. She wore a brown Taylor Swift shirt with hot pink track pants and orange shoes. Nails painted the colors of the rainbow.

Logan was getting a migraine just looking at her.

Some of the recently recruited students were here. One was Bobby, Anna Marie's boyfriend. Logan approved, though his opinion didn't matter much. He always looked out for Anna, defended her and loved her with all his heart. He seemed like a good person. Too good for the world of the X-Men he was dead set on entering. Another was John something, a troubled kid who went by the name of Pyro and only Pyro. He had a peculiar fascination with fire that wouldn't lead anywhere good, though Professor X seemed intent on tempering the urge by having the kid join his band of secret agents.

Not a good idea. The kid made the drawing of Jack the Ripper look like the fucking Pope. At least take the damn lighter from him. They were in a library for Christ's sake, have some self-preservation!

Then Logan set his eyes on the newcomers standing resolutely at the end of the library. An officer of the law with his officer's badge shining prominently on his casual suit, and a blind man wearing glasses with red lenses. Both looked grim yet determined. Worn out yet alert. Logan wasn't sure what to make of them. The officer stared curiously at him while the other appeared to be eavesdropping on everyone. Makes sense considering when one of the senses is lost or compromised, the other senses pick up the slack, and that includes hearing.

They didn't speak to him or greet him when he passed them. They didn't have too. Logan wasn't the "meet and greet type". He was "get shit done and smoke a cigar" type. As it would happen, he didn't have time to talk to them even if he wanted too. It was bad enough he had to drive through a blizzard that froze him to his core, but this shit was just lady luck's way of pissing on him.

Of course, Wade was here.

"Oh my God! Jackman! I didn't know you and your surly attitude were going to be here!" Wade shouted from behind the shelves, shoving a stack of books to the side and peeking his red mask through the opening. "What was it like filming the Greatest Showman?! Are you still performing that on Broadway?! I never got to see you do it live! Siri! Remind me to get tickets!"

Logan's fists clenched, utilizing every ounce of willpower he had to not stalk over and punch his lights out. He turned his focus back onto the Professor, hoping against hope that they can get this done so he can go smoke and grab a quick nap before he needs to start preparing for the "rescue mission".

Erik followed Charles closely, one hand resting gently on the back of his chair as the Professor reached a point in the library where everyone could see him clearly. The Alpha stayed close to his Omega's side, and Charles looked up appreciatively for the action. Once he was in the optimal position, he clasped his hands in his lap and addressed the room in clear, profound voice.

"I've called you all here because of a recent development that has come to our attention," he paused to gesture at the two newcomers. "These gentlemen are Detective Sam Wilson of the NYPD Manhattan district, and Matthew Murdock of Nelson and Murdock, attorney at Law. They have brought grave news to our attention, and I would like you all to listen to what they have to say."

Logan crossed his arms, grumbling to himself. Another Wilson to deal with. This should be good.

The Detective stepped forward, "I'm not going to draw this out. Our friends, both Omegas, have been taken and are currently being held captive by the Avengers. Matt and I hunted Deadpool down to see if he could help us get them back. Instead he took us here because your organization are the only ones who can do the job without major casualties." He paused, taking calming breath, "was he telling the truth? Or are we just wasting our time?"

Logan doesn't feel much. Not that he's numb per se, more like what emotions he does have are merely background noise. This though, this made him feel something and it wasn't anything good.

Logan knew the Avengers. He was one of them for a brief time, a valuable asset to the team alongside his old war buddies Bucky and Steve. Though he was around ten years older than them, him in his early 30's and them in their early 20's when they first met, the three were thick as thieves. Brothers in arms until the very end.

Then Buck got captured by HYDRA, and it was Logan's fault.

One dumb mistake, one missed opportunity, and he was ousted for life. One life he didn't take, one person who fooled him into thinking they were a simple minded innocent and he fucking fell for it. He fell for the act and Buck lost both his arm and his mind as a result. Steve has never trusted him since, Buck wouldn't look at him when he visited the Med bay in the tower, and the rest of the team followed suit out of respect for Buck and Steve. Logan didn't blame them; he wouldn't want to be around the person who changed his life forever in the worst way possible.

Logan left the Avengers shortly after he realized Buck and Steve were done with him, and the Widow was swiftly taking his place. At that point he didn't really care anymore. He'd been through his share of experiments too, not that he ever told them. Bucky got a metal arm replacement while Logan's bones were injected with a chemical mixture that solidified his bones until they held the same consistency as metal, one that was stronger and more durable than any metal found on earth. Bucky's mind was warped and filled with triggers that turn him into a weapon while Logan's mind was a black hole of fractured memories and he was given retractable claws that made him a weapon at all times every day.

The only reason Logan survived his experiments was because he had the same serum as both Bucky and Steve. He was the last one to get the serum administered before the explosion eradicated all evidence of such a serum. Buck and Steve didn't know, no one knew other than him and the Doctors who gave it to him. The same Doctors who died in the explosion, leaving him to hold this secret, and the secret of his claws and metal-like skeleton, on his own.

Just like the rest.

Logan almost turned around and walked right back out the door and into the freezing blizzard, got back on his bike and drove right back to St. Catherines. Fuck his cigar, he'll wait until the air didn't smell like shit before smoking one. The Avengers weren't the same as when he was part of team. Sure, most of the things they did were bad when taking general opinions into consideration, but they were all for good purposes. Stopping tyrants before they could rise, storming hideouts and safe houses filled with terrorists of all sorts, and neutralizing plans that could start World War 3 in their infancy.

The Avengers still do those things, but only when it affected them one way or another. Most often when there was a certain secret that could be sold to the right buyer or influencer, or because The Avengers themselves were the primary targets of such a threat. The worst part is that, even though Tony and the others hinted at going that route, none of it started happening until after Logan fucked up and got Bucky captured. The months without seeing that happy, boyish smile was hard enough. Realizing that smile was never going to come back after he was rescued was even worse.

They hated him for it, but not as much as he hated himself.

"Who are your friends? Why would they go out of their way to kidnap them? Are they part of something they shouldn't be?" Logan asked the Detective, clawing onto something to keep his mind from wallowing in self-pity.

"They're just kids. Violet might get into fights now and again but that's only because Alphas won't leave her or Peter alone, so she beats their asses. Give them a taste of their own medicine." The Detective responded quickly, glancing at the Lawyer next to him.

"Yes," the lawyer started, "but what happened is Peter, one of our friends, bumped into Tony Stark one day and before the week was out the Avengers burned down his apartment building and took him to the tower where we haven't seen him or Violet since."

"Wait," Raven spoke up, white contacts staring incredulously at the Lawyer, "that building fire was the Avengers doing?"

"Yes, but we don't know why they did it. Our best guess is to force Peter into a situation where he'd be more willing to take residence with Stark until such a time where it was too late for him to find another place to go." The Detective cut in, shrugging towards the end of his statement.

"We believe they have an infatuation with them. Ms. Romanoff, the Black Widow, in particular seemed quite taken with Violet when we briefly spoke on the night of the fire, along with James Barnes, otherwise known as the Winter Soldier." The Lawyer continued in a smooth voice.

"The Avengers sent us warnings, stating that should we attempt to help them escape, we would spend the rest of our lives in a cage just big enough for a 50 pound dog and being forced fed scraps of food and water until we withered away and died horribly drawn out deaths." The Detective scoffed; mouth turned down in disgust.

Charles raised a gentle hand towards the two, "I know this is a trying time for the both of you, and I assure we are going to expend every effort to rescue Violet and Peter and bring them to safety, but please do not scoff at the threat the Avengers pose. They have earned their . . . prolific reputation for plenty of reasons. Most of them involving terrible misdeeds and misfortunes for others. We need to be careful and be prepared for whatever comes our way."

"Which means we need to be ready to fight," Erik cut in, placing a hand on Charles shoulder, "I know this isn't necessarily the X-Men way, but this isn't some average criminal organization or corrupt government we are dealing with. This is the top of the food chain that we are planning to provoke, and we can't hold back our swords because our ideals tell us to. The Avengers kill first if you're lucky, desecrate your corpse with knives and fire. Only when your blood is on their marble floors and your ashes float in their vents will they finally ask questions."

Erik took in the state of each person in the room. The new recruits looked taken aback, Deadpool with playing with one of Charles books like a cat playing with yarn, the newcomers tensed up and glared at the speaking Alpha, and Raven and Ororo looked ready for anything. Logan just wanted smoke his cigar, take a nap, and forget the reason he came here in the first place.

"Erik," Charles chastised softly, looking concerned and disappointed from his chair.

"I'm sorry Charles," the Alpha apologized, "they need to know these things if they're going to be prepared."

"There's no preparing them," Logan finally spoke, biting down on the inside of his cheek, "what you're doing is psyching them out and dragging them through suspense until the mission has to start. By that point they'll be too afraid to do anything other then focus on breathing or having a panic attack."

"Speak for yourself," Raven mocked, flipping around her knife.

"He is!" Wade shouted from he ground, not so subtly putting the pages he ripped out of the book he was playing with back inside the cover. "How else could he have chastised Magneto over there!"

Logan rolled his eyes. "The point is everyone knows how fucked up this situation is. Everyone knows how impossible it's going to be to sneak into the tower and rescue the kids and the punishment we will face should we fail. What we don't know is why these two kids are important enough to risk everything for. Risking our lives, the X-Men, the school and the students within it, and all the secrets and influences connected to us that will be exposed and used at the Avengers pleasure. Why are these two kids that important?"

Erik sighed, turning to face Charles. The Professor rolled up until he was directly in front of Logan. He shifted slightly in his seat in order to grab something from one of the inner panels. A stack of what looked like photos. Charles handed them to him.

"Take a look, and you'll see for yourself."

Logan rolled his eyes but took the stack. "What the Hell's going on?"

"Please-" Charles gestured to the photos, but Logan's had enough.

"No, I want you tell me. Straight up with no bullshit, tell me right now why you want to save them."

"Violet has two scent glands, Logan." Charles responded bluntly, his gaze hardening as he stared inti Logan's eyes. "She's just like me. An Omega with two scent glands is extremely rare for a multitude of reasons, primarily because they die out at an early age without the chance to live their lives. They're hunted down and forced to reproduce in the hopes of creating more profound human beings, killing the mothers or fathers in the process. She deserves to live without being treated in such a terrible way, and I want to give her that chance. Will you help me provide that for her?"

Logan growled, but only to himself.

He looked at the top picture in his hand, and nearly dropped the stack at the sight of it. No fucking way. There was no fucking way it was her. And yet it was. Those fucking eyes were the same as her Dad's and haven't changed since the last time he saw them.

Violet wasn't only the Omega with two scent glands that Charles seemed so determined to rescue. She was Frank Castle's fucking goddaughter, only she didn't go by Violet when last he saw her. She was a wild kid who couldn't stop standing up for the little guy no matter how times she visited the nurse and the principal's office. She was pure and selfless, making food with her dad, helping around the house, and playing with that mangy cat she found huddling away in a gutter a few blocks from her house.

Violet was Brea Abernathy, and Logan was left positively frozen.

James and Natasha

Interrogation

Blood. That's all there was. All they knew. All they could see. Just blood. The dark pools bursting from the veins of their victims as they were sliced, bludgeoned, cut, or ripped from the bodies. No matter how it happened, blood covered the once clean, white walls and the broken stone mortar at their feet. Broken, mutilated bodies were splayed about all along the floor amid the bodily released and ripped up organs thrown about like trash on the streets of New York.

The wails of dying men reverberated throughout the room. A dozen operatives hung from meat hooks two feet from the floor, guts spilled out and hanging loosely from where they supposed to be. Intestines were wrapped around their necks, pancreas and liver stapled to their thighs, stomach cut open and sowed onto their heads. Most of their mouths were sown shut, fingers clubbed until they were nothing more than broken shards of bone and pounded flesh.

On the ground were nearly the rest of the operatives, or what was left of them. Legs, arms, hands, toes, teeth, heads, and so much more lay scattered along the edges of the of the circular room. Shit and piss mixed with the blood and bile from the torment they all endured. It wasn't over though.

One left to go.

The Winter Soldier was a well-oiled machine. No missteps or mishaps just focus. Pure, unadulterated focus that would put a surgeon or a clockmaker to shame. He kept his pace, his expression never once changing as the screams rose and the pleas grew in desperation. He took no pleasure in the pain, he didn't feel anything at all. His purpose was to follow orders and that was what he did.

Natasha watched him, smiling at those wonderfully cold eyes as he went to work. When the Soldier took hold, whether it was 3 words or all 10, his eyes no longer showed crimson. They were silver, the glint on the edge of a blade right before it strikes it's target down for good. All throughout the interrogation, she watched his body move with lithe yet brutal way. Watched the intensity in those haunting eyes. Even as she asked questions and recorded the answers, she watched him with aroused amazement.

Particularly now.

The last operative, the leader of the group based on his clothes and identification. Shame. He was a weasel of a man. Whoever made him in charge was either desperate, a fool, or wanted him gone.

"Jasper Sitwell," Natasha asked in a soft voice, counteracting with harsh brutality throughout the rest of the scene. "You only have one chance to tell me your reason for being here. One chance to avoid the fate of your team you so callously led to their doom," she paused, gesturing the bodies surrounding him. "Tell me why you're here."

He was strapped the chair in the middle of the room. Arms and legs strapped down tight, another few straps around his torso, neck, and the top of his head to keep him from moving at all. He was shaking, bottom lip trembling in fear as he stared at the Winter Soldier who stared back without an ounce of compassion. He held sharp and bloody knives in each hand, waiting to use them one last time.

Jasper didn't answer, a foolish mistake on his part. For 15 minutes he refused to answer, and in those 15 minutes, The Winter Soldier was at work. He started with his hands, a place where so many nerves a jumbled and so easily disturbed. Cutting into the skin and peeling it back, revealing the flesh and bone beneath. He took the skin away from the fingers, cutting off the nails and discarding them to the floor. He worked his way up the wrists, up the forearms, and right to the elbow when Jasper finally reached his breaking point.

Gasping for breath, howling in agony when he wasn't, the words "I'll tell you! I'll tell you!" were finally uttered, and Natasha signaled to the Winter Soldier. He stopped at her behest, throwing the last bit of skin he cut off to cover the tiny cock between Jasper's legs. A poor excuse for a beta. Jasper's eyes were closed shut, refusing to look at the Soldier's good work. It was alright, Natasha ogled it from her position at the desk and fully intended to praise the soldier on his good work.

"Tell me Jasper," Natasha spoke softly, softer than before. Gentler.

Jasper lapped it up, seeking any form of kindness he could have in his last moments. He started mumbling, tears streaming down his flushed face when he set his scared, defeated eyes on her faux compassionate expression. He gulped in his breaths, desperately sifting through the pain he was going through.

"Kilgrave . . ." he started, voice weak and defeated, "he knows . . . Kilgrave knows . . ."

Natasha moved in closer, staring down at his shivering form, "knows what? What does Kilgrave know?"

" . . . O . . . Omeg . . ." Jasper struggled, coughing and spewing bile on his face and chest.

"Omega?" Natasha finished for him, "he knows an Omega?"

Jasper wheezed, trying to focus on her but failing by the second. "13," he stated.

Suddenly Jasper spoke with confidence, using what had to be the last of his strength to relay the important message to the Black Widow.

"Kilgrave knows about Omega 13."

Natasha was taken aback, "why is this Omega so important?"

"Because they got away. Omega 13 is the only one who got away from Insight."

"Insight? What's insight?" Natasha questioned, "Jasper?"

But Jasper was no more. Like the secret he was carrying was the only thing keeping him alive, the moment it was gone he too went with it. The life left his eyes until there was nothing, but the lifeless corpse strapped to the chair, waiting to rot away.

"Damn," Natasha cursed, leaning away from the body in disgust, turning to face her warped lover. "priyezzhay soldat."

Natasha left the interrogation room, and the soldier quickly followed after setting his knives down on the table. Natasha took his hand when they reached the door and guided him towards the exit. The remaining bots from the Iron Legion immediately jumped into action at the sight of their macabre states and sped to clean and decontaminate the room. Both were covered in blood, the soldier more so than Natasha, but they were certainly a scary sight to see. They didn't care though. Now that interrogation was out of the way, there was only one thing that mattered to either of them, even to the Winter Soldier.

Violet.

Upon arriving at the exit doors, a single question fluttered through their minds they couldn't seem to ignore.

Who was Omega 13, and what was Insight?

The first three Russian translations are Bucky's first three trigger words.

Soldat = Soldier.

Gotov soblyudat' = Ready to Comply.

Vremya dlya doprosa = Time for Interrogation.

Privesti ikh v = bring them in.

priyezzhay soldat = come soldier