Too Young to Run: Part 5

Kitchen

Violet

9:45 p.m.

If life had a face, Violet would be bashing it in with The Captain's sledgehammer right now.

Sitting on the bar stool, fingers hooked into the weathered oak the stool was made from, she watched The Black Widow slowly, purposefully unbutton the top of her shirt. The Winter Soldier moved across the room to grab some ice from the freezer and two cokes from the fridge. Violet could barely breathe, unsure of who the bigger threat was. The guy who sliced up Billy and tried to burn her alive tonight, or the woman who poured salt in Billy's wounds and was currently ogling her like a pirate who just found buried treasure.

She tried to think of a plan. Something, anything to get her out of this situation. The door to the living room behind her was locked and would take too long to get through. The window was bolted shut, same with the windows in Wanda's room because she was terrified someone would sneak in while she was sleeping and kill her (Baron tried that once before the trial officially started, Violet and Pietro stopped it). The window in the guest bedroom would be her best bet, but then she'd be leaving her friends at the mercy of the Avengers.

There was a trap door to the second floor through the ceiling of the guest room though. If she timed it right and didn't make any stupid mistakes like forgetting to lock the door behind her, tripping along the way, things that people do in horror movies that get them killed, then she might have a chance. Once she's up there they won't be able to get to her, and she can warn Matt to start getting everyone out of here. Considering he's probably listening in now, then he's probably in the process of doing that.

Hopefully.

The Widow's fingers started stroking Violet's exposed collar bone. Violet glanced down at the front of her shirt, all six buttons were unhooked, allowing the woman to stretch the fabric enough to reveal nearly the entire front of her black sports bra. Violet cursed herself for not having the forethought of wearing the grey undershirt beneath the Henley.

When her fingers started brushing lower, getting closer to what little cleavage she had, Violet slapped them away.

"You undid the buttons, congratulations. Now keep your hands off me." Violet glared, her other hand still clutching the bar stool.

The Black Widow smiled, pulling her hand away. She nodded to The Winter Soldier and grabbed the Bacardi.

"On the rocks? Or straight?" The assassin asked, twisting off the cap with an inquisitive cock of an eyebrow.

Violet stared at her like she was insane, "I'm not drinking that."

"You promised to drink with me," a taunting lilt to her voice as the Soldier place two glasses in front of the pair.

"Yeah, but I didn't promise to drink that."

"Not a fan of Bacardi?"

"I'm fine with Bacardi. I'm just not a fan of being poisoned. Kind of a lame way to go after escaping a fucking inferno." Violet flinched as the Soldier dropped big, bulging ice cubes in each glass.

The Black Widow tisked, pouring the clear liquid into each glass. "We're not going to poison you, Violet. That would ruin all the lovely plans we have for you."

"Want to give burning me alive another go? Since it didn't kill me the first time?"

"We're not going to kill you, Violet."

"Like I'm going to believe a renowned super assassin and her super soldier boyfriend. The same boyfriend who I saw at the scene and threw a brick at before he could kill my friend." Violet responded vehemently, ignoring the crimson eyes suddenly gazing at her. "Who has now conveniently disappeared."

The Widow turned to face Violet then, with a malicious smirk and wink, pressed the bottle of Bacardi to her lips and swallowed what had to be three shots worth of the clear rum. She set the bottle back down to the island, licking her red lips clean of the liquid before resuming pouring drinks.

"Hope you don't mind the backwash." The Black Widow taunted, leering at Violet through her lidded eyes as she resumed pouring.

"I hope you go to prison," Violet grated, "and I'm still not drinking that."

"As you can see-"

"Bitch I've seen the Princess Bride; I'm not falling for that shit."

The Black Widow laughed. Laughed! Violet was enraged.

"You've seen that movie?" The Widow asked, her tone curious.

Violet shrugged her stiff shoulders, "who hasn't?"

"James," she nodded towards him. Violet didn't follow the Widow's gaze towards the soldier. "He walked in when it was on tv one day, took one look at the sword scene and said, not a chance, then walked off to clean his weapons."

"Your boyfriend has no taste," Violet couldn't help it. How dare he troll Inigo Montoya and his desire for an honorable swordfight. Bastard. "Still not drinking that."

"Yes, you are," The Black Widow smiled as The Winter Soldier poured the dark, fizzing liquid into each glass, "or do you want your friends to the pay price?"

"I'll keep my fucking promise, asshole. I'm just not drinking that."

"Why get another when this one is already prepared for you?" The Soldier started stirring both drinks with a spoon.

"Why are you so insistent on me drinking that?" Violet shot back, glaring at The Black Widow once more.

"I have my reasons, none of which involve killing you."

"But drugging me, yes?"

She flinched, Violet almost smiled at that, "I don't need to drug you to keep you with me."

"Tell that to you from five years ago," Violet snarked, "the chick who couldn't catch a thirteen-year-old."

Violet froze. She didn't mean to say that. The Black Widow smiled at her; eyes triumphant. Fuck! Here comes the shallow grave.

"Ah, I was wondering when the truth would come out." The Widow grabbed the glass the Soldier finished stirring and placed it in front of Violet. Violet didn't grab it, frozen in terror while assessing The Widow.

"You already knew," Violet realized.

The Widow grabbed the other glass, taking a quick drink of it before responding. "Found out a few days ago, when you saw James and Steve around Peter's apartment." Widow turned her attention to James, reaching out her hand to grasp his, causing the crimson gaze to finally turn away from Violet. "James caught your scent, and Tony's A.I. FRIDAY was able to clear up an image of you on one of the old surveillance cameras in the area. Then we compared it to an image of what we imagined you to look like today, and it came back with a match to Brea Abernathy, the newly presented Omega who escaped the Avengers five years ago this very night." Her dark gaze turned back to Violet, "it's nice to finally meet you, Brea."

Violet didn't speak for a minute. Too shocked, too confused, too overwhelmed by this sudden news to function properly. She kept her eyes from glancing towards the guest bedroom, not wanting to give away her escape route.

"Brea died watching you bastards hack up her brother." Violet growled, nails digging painfully into the splintering wood of the bar stool. No doubt blood would soon present should she go on like this.

Widow pointed to the drink with her pinky, "drink. You're going to need it for this conversation."

"I don't need shit from you."

"Not even answers?" The Black Widow smirked, and Violet glared at her. "Drink."

Violet focused on breathing. All sorts of scenarios for how bad this could go, where she could end up, and what would happen to her friends, to Peter filled her mind as she weighed the pros and cons of taking this drink with the Black Widow, or flat out refusing it once more. The point was made though. If she wanted to get answers, then she needed to play along. The real question here is would Violet rather know the truth and take the risk of getting killed or worse? Or would she rather remain in confusion to this situation, never making sense of what was happening and remaining in the dark forever? There was safety in the darkness, but all too often it leads to blind ignorance. The harsh light of clarity can be cruel and obscene, but it provides an altered vision of what is, and what could be.

With one last deep breath, Violet unhooked her nails from the bottom of the stool, gripped the glass, and brought it to her lips.

Natasha

She loved watching the way her darling looked with those buttons out of the way. She wanted her to take the shirt off and replace it with that leather jacket she had on earlier. Her mouth water at the sexy combination, even with the standard black sports bra. She couldn't wait to replace it with a lacy bralette, or her own hands . . . or James'. Either worked for Natasha.

What she loved more was getting to watch Violet drink the rum and coke. The way her lips curved around the glass, the line between her brows that Natasha couldn't wait to rub away. The way James watched Violet was sight to behold too. Lips parted in ecstasy, his warm hand sweating slightly as she drank the rum and coke they so lovingly prepared for her. She wondered if he were thinking along the same lines as she was. Of plucking their Violet from the stool and taking her rough and dirty in the back bedrooms. Of course, this wasn't the time for that. There were more pressing matters.

The poor thing actually thought Natasha would poison her. It wasn't surprising, but it hurt that their Omega immediately jumped to those conclusions. It was good that she didn't turn out the way they hoped, the vengeful type on a mission to hunt them down and kill them for what they did to her half-brother. They hoped for that because it would be easier to handle. This though, the Violet that lived for years with the knowledge that someday they would kill her, was going to be a challenge. This Violet was self-reliant (even with the help of her friends), resourceful, cunning, and intelligent. She was also loyal to a fault if her relationship with Peter is anything to go by, protective, a defender to those in need, and above all else self-destructive. She didn't care what happened to her as long those she cared for were safe, and that was the biggest hurdle she and James would have to face. After her submission of course.

She truly was the ultimate challenge for them to face.

When Violet had taken a good, long drink from the rum and coke, she placed it back in front of her. Those starry eyes glaring into the dark reds of the alphas in front of her. Natasha smiled, taking tilting the glass and feeling the soothing burn on her throat.

"Was that so hard?"

"Fuck off," she growled, which Natasha found adorable.

"Do you want to now why we did what we did to your half-brother?"

Violet flinched, nostril's flaring, "His name was Billy, and I already know why."

"Really?" Natasha straightened slightly, taking another drink from the glass, "do tell."

"He stole secrets. Planned on selling them to the highest bidder. He betrayed you and he had to pay for it. That's why you killed him." Violet's face was stiff, filled with revulsion and rage. "But the rest of it? Tying him to his knees? Smashing him up with a sledgehammer, cutting him to the bone, rubbing salt into his wounds, all the while laughing down at him while he screamed in pain? You did that because you could. Because he was an Omega that no one would miss, and you were Alphas who could get away with anything because your leader practically owns the world, which is why it sucks beyond belief." She stopped, unshed tears filling up her eyes. "It's Alphas like you that give other Alphas the excuse to do whatever they want, and rarely, if ever, face the consequences for their actions. Leaving us weak and vulnerable Omegas at the bottom of the food chain meant for nothing except breeding and looking nice."

Natasha's blood ran cold, the harsh words coming from her Omega hitting her to the core. She dropped the glass on the island, ignoring the splatter of alcohol and loud clanging sounds as she leaned towards Violet, intending to grab her hands and make her see right. Violet pulled away before she could, grabbing her own drink and standing away from the Alphas, furiously wiping away the unshed tears from her eyes.

"I guess you were right about this," she gestured to the drink before practically shoving it into face and downing the rest of it in two gulps. She emptied the ice onto the floor, then she threw it back to Natasha, who caught the glass on pure instinct, "let's have another, unless you're afraid I'll drink you under the table?"

Natasha, both mesmerized and hurting at the sight of Violet before her, handed the glass to James. "Something stronger," she murmured.

She didn't look at James as he took the glass from her hand, her attention solely on Violet. She could see the Omega wouldn't willingly return to the bar stool, so Natasha needed to get her to sit back down. The bar stool was sent hurtling to the ground when Violet abruptly stood away from the kitchen island. Natasha gingerly walked around the island, slow in her movements as to not spook or anger her chosen more than she already was. Violet backed herself against the wall, subtly moving towards the door while simultaneously glancing at the kitchen window. Natasha frowned. The only way she wanted to get physical with her Omega is in the bedroom, and this was certainly the wrong place and the wrong time to think of such things.

James had two glasses of rum and coke finished in no time, only with less ice, and more rum. He gingerly set on the Island countertop where Violet was sitting. Natasha and James both backed away, giving Violet a safe amount of space. It took a solid minute for Violet to move away from the wall and inch closer to the island. Two and half minutes to finally sit back down. Another minute to grab the glass and take another drink.

Natasha reciprocated by taking a drink when she did, then started cautiously.

"Billy did steal secrets from us, and he did intend to sell them. That's why we killed him." Natasha confirmed, watching Violet closely.

Her expression scream I know this! Natasha moved on.

"But what we did beforehand was not because he was an Omega," Violet rolled her eyes, taking another drink and moving to stand again, so Natasha quickly continued "it was because he hurt Bruce's chosen."

Confusion colored her face, "who the Hell is Bruce? Your second in command or just an average Alpha janitor? And what's a chosen?"

"It's Dr. Banner," Natasha briefly smiled at Violet's slightly shy oh before continuing, "and a chosen is pretty simple once you think about it. It's someone we are in a romantic relationship with, someone we love and cherish more than anything and anyone else in the world-"

Violet interrupted with a snort, laughing to herself. Natasha set her glass down, leaning towards Violet.

"We're monsters, we know that. We live with that knowledge every day. But we're not just monsters. We still feel, Violet. We feel loss, just as you do. Pain and agony, laughter and joy, pleasure and glee. We also feel love, unbridled love that fills us up and overflows-"

"Sounds like you shook up a two liter of soda and then opened it without realizing it," Violet commented, rolling her eyes at Natasha.

Okay, softness isn't working.

"Bruce, Dr. Banner, is an Alpha like the rest of us-"

"Oh, so you all turn into Mr. Hyde and crush Omega throats with a single squeeze?"

"and he has an Omega bonded to him, one that is now pregnant with his unborn child." Natasha continued past Violet's interruption. "Which wouldn't have been possible if Steve hadn't found her in the stairwell after Billy pushed her down the stairs just moments after he stole valuable secrets from us." She had Violet's attention now, those starry eyes taking in Natasha's burnt sienna. "If someone had done that to Peter, risk killing him while attempting escape, what would you have done?"

The disgust was back, "not what you did."

"Like I said, we're monsters."

"You really are," Violet spoke deeply, her voice taking on a sort of condemning tone.

James

There was so much pain in their chosen. So much loss in those nighttime eyes that James didn't know what to do. Natasha was losing her, words no longer reaching through. The one thing they had to use was now no longer in commission. Violet had her mind made up. Alphas were monstrous beings based on acts they themselves committed. She might have a point to that, but there wasn't anything that could be done about it tonight.

James awkwardly stood at the side for the duration of their conversation. Happy to watch Violet and Natasha interact. Content to make them drinks. Pained to see what his Violet dealt with, and that was only the tip of the iceberg. So much more was hidden in those depths, and words were no longer reaching her. She closed herself off, finishing off the second glass and slamming it down to the counter, glaring at Natasha, daring her to continue.

Natasha flicked her fingers at James, a single between the two that meant it was his turn. She failed where he might succeed. She was always better with words, while he was a man of action. With that permission from her, James finally did what he'd been wanting to do all night.

He shoved slammed the bottle of Bacardi aside, and stalked up to his Omega. She barely had time to shove her now empty glass away and turn be he grabbed her around the waist and hoisted her over his shoulder. Metal arm wrapping around the back of her thighs to keep from kicking him as he turned to face Natasha. She nodded towards the back bedrooms, "get her situated, I'll warn Tony."

With her legs pinned, Violet started beating his back and attempted to elbow his head. Thankfully he had the forethought to dodge the incoming blow. Within seconds he carried her from the kitchen to one of the bedrooms, the guest room based on the lack of personal materials in here. He threw her on the bed, then collapsed on top of her. Naturally she started fighting more. It was understandable given the room and the position he threw her in, but she needn't worry. His moral compass goes grey in many places, but with sex it's as clear as day.

No consent, no sex. Forced consent doesn't count as true consent which also equals to no sex. James had his own code, and this was one line he refused to cross. Mostly because he was on the other side of it when he was captured all the years ago.

She started whimpering, interchanging between pushing his chest to get him off her, or reaching out to the bedside table in search of a weapon she could use against him. He smirked at that, loving her courage. He grabbed hold of her wrists, then held them above her head on the pillows with his metal hand. He encased her legs with her own, slamming her thighs together with his own. With his right hand he covered her mouth to stop the impending screams from coming.

She continued to struggle beneath him, and he relaxed into her. Resting his forehead against her own, breathing in her wonderfully intoxicating scent.

One day she would get past this. One day he could feel her struggle beneath him for all the right reasons. Struggling because he wanted her too, because she wanted to feel good too. Smiling wickedly all the while. Not to escape her alphas. Not to run into the cold night and leave their warm embrace. One day, he hoped. One day.

Natasha returned, a sad look on her face.

"I wanted to do this another way," she revealed a syringe, taking the cap off, testing the needle by gently spraying a bit of the drug out.

Violet's eyes went wide, freezing on the bed as Natasha walked closer with it. "We could have talked this out, went another way, and easier way with this." She sat on the edge of the bed, gently massaging the inside of her trapped left arm before flicking the needle again. "But it looks like we're going to have to go the route with you, baby."

Just when James thought everything would work out, that she was finally theirs at long last. Running footsteps came from the hallway, and before he could blink, the door to the bedroom was kicked open, and a very pissed off Sam Wilson stood tall with Matt Murdock and Jessica Jones standing at his side, ready to fight for their friend.

For his Omega.