Deviant (A m/f omegaverse tale)

Interlude

~

Hello everyone! This chapter is short and sweet, and written from Jazz's point of view. No smut, but some background and possible foreshadowing! 

Oh, also! I'm running out of things to read, ya'll. I feel like I've explored every omega-verse story from here to Kindle, and I'm getting desperate. So, if anyone has recommendations, favorites, etc, I'd absolutely love to hear them. Doesn't have to be omegaverse, anything dark and dirty is enjoyed. <3

~

Jazz~

How had things gotten so out of hand? 

Jazz had no fucking clue. 

She'd been in the perfect position, given a golden opportunity to use the Imperion's confidence against them, to hatch her revenge at long last. She'd come to terms with the extreme likelihood of her own death, basked in it even, especially if it meant taking down a good chunk of alien scum while she was at it. 

But... She hadn't been the target of the Imperion's desires. And that had been realized too late... 

From the lopsided perch of a roller chair, she listened to the summarized report being droned on, detailing the lose of one Delilah Calvillo, code named Deviant. Omega in rank, early twenties, weapons expert, etc etc.

Most of the droning was tuned out. 

A patchwork of colorful bruises and swollen extremities, she attracted quite a few uncertain glances. It was like they were surprised the Imperion had given her a healthy beatdown once she'd fumbled herself into their custody. Inwardly, she scoffed. They thought she'd cracked, opened up and spilled all their deeply concealed secrets, but boy were they going to be in for a shock. 

...And they weren't the only ones, it seemed. 

On the wide t.v. screen mounted to the wall, the grey pixels began to distort and take shape, drawing the attention of everyone in the room. Silence reigned in, a mixture of curiosity and fear stretched over previously undisturbed features. When a familiar face popped into existence, tension was brought to the forefront, and Jazz was not held apart from her colleagues. 

"H-High Commander. We, ugh," A lithe man to her right stuttered out a greeting, his voice cracking beneath the weight of expectation the newcomer gave off, even through a virtual screen. "We weren't expecting you to sit in on this meeting. You... You've no doubt been briefed of Jasmine's capture and subsequent release, and though it appears as if the operation cost us a handful of soldiers, we believe the trade-off was worth the reward." 

Unable to hold back, Jazz cringed, cracked lips dipping down while she forced herself to retain eye-contact with the image of the resistance leader. 

The man on the t.v. was silver-haired and bulky, with a stern mouth framed in pepper colored facial hair. Thick eyebrows were slanted over narrowed eyes, the color so strikingly akin to a certain someone that yet another heavy wave of guilt threatened to pull her under. She breathed through it, barely, but was unable to do much more when the man finally began to speak.

"Oh, you think the exchange was equivalent, do you?" His voice was heavy like a looming rain storm, and held none of the warmth she'd often heard from it. Then again, the situation didn't really warrant any friendliness... "Would you like to inform these men why I'm not inclined to agree, Jazz?" There was a lengthy pause while every head in the room turned in her direction, and she found herself unable to answer beneath the unspoken demand. So the High Commander did it for her. 

"It just so happens, soldiers, that the omega traded for Jasmine's release is, in fact, my daughter." 

Fuck. 

She could hear the hitched breaths, practically feel the wide eyes continue to take her in. They hadn't known, to be fair. Actually, no one had known. No one except her and the Commander, and that had been for Deviant's safety. The poor girl thought her father had gotten stuck outside the American border when the Imperion landed, and though she was nearly positive he'd died, Jazz hadn't tried to speak with her towards just how lively the military veteran was. Because he was very alive, alive and determined, and still invested in his daughters life. 

She'd been tasked with retrieving the girl, giving her a place to stay, food and shelter, all the necessities. Making Deviant part of an actual task force was never the plan, but the opportunity had presented itself perfectly. Jazz had more control over those kept close, and she'd genuinely needed a weapons expert. Deviant was never supposed to venture into Imperion territory though, and it had been Jazz who ordered the hit in New Dallas, where the omega had attracted unwanted attention. All she'd wanted was to give the girl a sense of purpose and some meager form of power in a world that had seen fit to fuck her over...

The High Commander gripped the leather arms of his chair and leaned in, a great figure filling the screen and exerting the full force of his demand. "And we will be getting her back, or so help me, everyone in this room will suffer the consequences...."