Deviant (A m/f omegaverse tale)

Lines Crossed

Lightening crashed in the distance, a booming echo that showcased violence across the rain swept miles. Through the cloudy panes of a window, she watched the display, hypnotized by Mother Natures aggression. Humidity clung to the glass, fogged up and dreary, but not marring the vision enough to make Deviant turn away. She'd adored storms since she was a small child, but beneath the concrete protection of the resistance bunker, she'd not witnessed such beauty in years. 

That wasn't an issue in Imperion City Double Three, however, where skyscrapers and bulky complex buildings were the main housing for the masses. No, each apartment unit had multiple windows, for the citizens had no reason to fear their alien overlords glancing inside and seeing something disreputable. 

And though Deviant was, without a doubt, in dangerous territory, she allowed herself to enjoy small, meager little things she'd missed during her time hidden. 

Wrapped in the tattered fabric of an old knitted blanket, she partially listened to the hum drum of voices around her, most of her attention remaining settled upon the swirling storm wrecking havoc on the city. With her body curled against the sliding glass doors that led to the compact patio outside, she let her mind wander towards less troubling matters, such as her first time seeing Dallas. 

As a child, her father had driven her across the state every single summer. It was their family vacation time. Just the two of them, some tents, and a list of all the sights they could see along the way. Normally it would take about twelve hours to drive across Texas, but with how often they stopped, it usually ended about a week after their departure. They'd call it quits in Oklahoma, where her grandparents had a tiny little cabin on the lake, and they'd take the next few weeks to just relax and have fun. 

But when she was ten, the normally lengthy trip had taken a dramatic turn, in the form of an unexpected family death. Despite the circumstances, morbid funeral aside, her dad had shuffled her around the city with an air of child-like wonder. She'd got to see the state fair grounds, walk the art distract downtown, and tour the stadium of her dads favorite football team. 

Now, that same stadium was home to an Imperion army base. A massive, angry looking spacecraft stationed directly above, a daunting reminder of who owned their planet. 

It wasn't that Deviant particularly enjoyed football, no, but she couldn't help the discomforting pang of nostalgia that settled in the pit of her stomach when she realized that America's favorite pastimes was simply one of the many forms of entertainment now extinct. 

"...too risky. Our insider informant can't confirm where Jazz is located, only that she's within the central intelligence building. We'd be going in blind, with a disabled team no less..."

From her comfortable position, Deviant tried to contain a wince. 

"She's a main member of the resistance. She knows codenames, locations, key plans. We can't allow her to remain within the Imperion's grasp, despite what the High Commander says."

Male voices continued on, discussing matters as if Deviant wasn't even there. And in all honesty, she wasn't supposed to be. 

Not a day after they'd received news of Jazz's capture, another commanding member of the resistance had shown up at their bunker, full of inquiry. Deviant hadn't cared about the questions he'd asked her, nor the accusation in his tone. In fact, she'd outright thrown a fit when he'd revoked all of her privileges, what measly ones she had left, and ended up barred from the man's presences for the duration of his visit. 

'Not fit to be around outside influence', he'd told their second in command. 'Dangerous to herself and those around her', he'd warned. And then, without finesse, he'd re-addressed the order for Deviant to remain on-base, by adding a guard detail to the poor, distressed omega. 

She'd about lost her shit. More so when she learned that the resistance had zero intention of extracting Jazz. 

Or rather, she had lost her shit.

She'd packed some hidden weapons. Drowned herself in the little cannabis oil she had left. And drugged the unsuspecting bastard who had been posted outside of her room.

Then she'd hightailed it out of the compound, contacted one of the lesser known cells, and made her way into the city without the slightest difficulty. She would've been uneasy at such a feat, but after catching a high ranking member of the resistance, the one thought to be responsible for the senators death, the Imperion had once more lifted up on security around the border. 

Which was how she'd found herself in a rather lack-luster apartment, treated like a delicate flower by the men currently debating whether breaking into a locked facility and rescuing someone, who was quite possibly dead, was a decent idea. 

Inwardly she scoffed, but on the outside, her features remained blank. Through the glass, she could see a poor reflection of the table they all sat around, half a dozen military trained, ex-soldiers biting at the bit to have at the Imperion. 

But Deviant didn't care about that. All she wanted was Jazz, and the omega didn't give a flying fuck whether they helped her or not. On top of being a weapons expert, the pink-haired woman was stealthy and underhanded, both traits that had helped earn her the nickname. If they couldn't work together a plan, she'd sneak herself in without hesitation. Once inside, she'd worry about survival. Though, if she was being honest with herself, survival wasn't much of an issue. Imperion didn't slaughter omega. No, it would be her freedom in the balance, and while she didn't want to think about future matters, the sickness churning in her stomach made her uncomfortably aware of how bleak things were looking. 

"...she knows too much!" A large man with cropped brown hair threw his muscular arms up in the air, exasperation puffing out his cheeks. "We can't leave her there, for fucks sake! If they crack her, even the slightest bit, it puts all of us at risk." His beady eyes danced around the table, narrowed in visible displeasure. So bad at holding in his emotions. Perhaps he was an omega? 

At her involuntary though, Deviant finally rolled her eyes. But what followed next from the mans mouth had a low, strangled growl rumbling out from her throat, unexpectedly threatening in the already tense environment. "She's better off dead than spilling our secrets."

Silence rang out after that, enough so that her bristling behavior was easily noticed. Multiple sets of eyes turned in her direction, expressions more startled than upset. Had she growled at Jazz, the woman would've returned the gesture tenfold until Deviant's omega nature had forced submission. But none of these men were capable of such a thing, and she took advantage of that fact. 

"Jazz wouldn't talk. Not from torture or extortion. She's a damn Alpha." Accusing eyes swung from the window, the steady patter of rain the only background noise. Fingers clutched tightly to her blanket, Deviant stared them all down, not the slightest bit frightened by the fire in their eyes. They wouldn't direct their frustrations towards her, not when there were perfectly good Imperion to maim. "Would you leave her there? Someone who fights for our cause? Someone who kills for the resistance?" She was working herself up and she knew it, but Deviant couldn't stop. "What the hell are ya'll even doing here then? Fuck off, and I'll find my own way inside while you bask in the glow of Imperion control." This time, she did scoff, plump pink lips pursed into a disgruntled frown. "Stupid fucking useless men..." 

The silence didn't last for long after she'd turned away, and once more she watched them through the foggy glass, petulant like a child. 

"...What a filthy mouth you have." But there was admiration in the masculine tone, and before she knew it, the small space with filled with roars of laughter. "You sure you're an omega? Seem a bit too bitchy to me." Affection edged his words, and Deviant couldn't help a chastised smile over her shoulder. It appeared as if her ill-advised rant had shaken the men from their stupor though, because soon they were pulling out layout sheets, discussing the best direction to enter from, and exit strategies.