The Compound

Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I do not own the writes to any Marvel character mentioned, those are solely owned by Marvel. While I do own the original characters mentioned, the characters of Steve Rogers, Bucky Barnes, Sam Wilson, Natalia Romanov, Alexander Pierce, Peggy Carter, Tony Stark, Pepper Potts, T'Challa, Shuri, etc. are not owned by me.

Steve Roger's couldn't believe he was actually doing this. Standing in front of this all-white building, it's circular shape holding innocent Omegas, one of which he was hopeful soon to call his own.

He had been through his rounds of power-hungry Betas and Omegas, crawling all over him to reach for his money, power, but most importantly authority. He just wanted a simple Omega, one that he could cherish and truly love, contrary to common Alpha society today. One that he could give the world to, just she and him.

You, on the other hand, had given up any hope long ago. After 237 you stopped counting how many days you had been in your tiny cell. Excuse me, apartment. Calling it an apartment made it slightly more bearable. You built a makeshift bookshelf out of some plastic utensils you had managed to burn down via candle, and planted a small flower in an old empty water bottle. A little extra life made it more manageable.

Laying on the small metal counter you had was your orange peel from breakfast, that being one single orange, just like it was every morning. Next to it, the small napkin in which your pink hormonal pill was placed. It stopped heats, so they wouldn't have to deal with that.

Today was one of the two times a week you got to interact with the other Omegas. You were dying to do so, gossip a little about your bland and tasteless lives while being locked up, even if only given 60 minutes and constant watch.

A while back you would spend that time plotting your escape, but soon enough you found out it was absolutely useless. Guards were everywhere, security cameras placed every other foot in The Compound. There was no use. You would just be tortured further if you even remotely tried.

"224," One of the guards came pounding on your door, "Yard time." You got up and hastily exited through the large steel door, displaying your number on the outside. The guards refused to wait for you, you were on their time, not your own.

You were led down the cool hallway, with just one of your two pairs of grey sweatpants and white t-shirt on, your wavy hair hanging down just below your breast. They let you cut it once a year, for hygiene reasons.

And there you were, in the large empty space, shaped in a perfect circle filled in with concrete, and a grey that was sore to the eye. You stood around and greeted some of your other Omegas, 445, McKenzie, 667, Taylor, and 190, Riley. "I heard another group of Alphas is coming today." Taylor rolled her eyes as you four stood in your own circle.

"Another round of dirtbags," McKenzie whispered, well aware the guards could strike if they heard what she was saying at any moment. You nodded.

You were of course never fond of the idea of having an Alpha. Most of the time, they were ruthless and would use Omegas as pieces of meat. Technically, you all were. They would bid or buy you, the price starting at one million dollars. And from then on, you were legally held under their name. You were there's.

But then again, at least you would be released from this hell. But probably put in another. The few tales of Alphas treating their Omegas as humans were delightful to imagine, to say the least, but as you learned, never keep your hopes up.

So after your 60 minutes of chatter was up, you were all escorted back to your cells. The unfortunate part of being on the second floor was your apartment was always cold. So you threw on your sweatshirt and went back to reading your book, curled up on the squeaky twin bed they gave you, leaning your back into the corner.