Daughter Of the Beast *Wolverine/Avengers*

Chapter 31- In Which We See Everett's Point of View On This Whole Thing

 Everett's POV

        The huge woven baskets began to weigh heavy on my shoulders about the fourth hour. I had been set to harvest blueberries. The kittens in the baskets didn't seem to mind the berries at all, which was funny considering cats are mostly carnivorous. They blinked up at me with round blue eyes and sneezed if I dropped berries on them. 

        The rows of blueberries stretched far off into the distance. The only sign of the end was the faint glimmer off the steel drums we were to put the berries in. I wiped my forehead. Had I known this was part of the work that went into making blueberry jam, I might not have eaten it so much. 

        I cast my mind ahead of me. A brief scene flashed before me. 

        Ruari, her eyes on the ground, peeled several vines of their grapes. She was lifeless. She didn't have the drive I remembered. She wasn't protective. Her hair was thin and dull, like cheap hay used for pigs. Her body was emaciated. She turned towards me. She didn't even look as if she remembered me at all. She blinked. Her blue eyes were washed out and faded. As if it took the greatest effort in the world, she spoke. "Everett... We have to get out. They're planning on taking over the world. They'll suck the clouds out of the sky. No more rain. No more rain. They're so confident they tell me everything. The others are here too. All of them. Widow... Green Man... Gerard..." She recited names under her breath as she turned back towards the vines laden with grapes. 

        I pulled my mind back. As I turned to continue up the row, my basket bumped someone else's. "Sorry." I muttered. 

        "Everett?" I cautiously looked towards the speaker at the sound of my name. At first I didn't recognize her. Dull brown hair framed her face, which had razor edge cheekbones and hollow eyes. Chapped lips stood out above her jagged chin. It was her stance that told me who she was. 

        "Widow?" I was surprised to see her here. We had never talked much. She knew Ruari and Cavendish better than Gerard and me. 

        She nodded. "Yes. We need to get out of this place. Somehow." She stuck her hand out. I shook, unsure of what else to do. Something hard and metal was palmed to me. I looked at it under the leaves of one of the blueberry shrubs. A tiny knife. 

        It went up my sleeve. I continued picking berries. I sighed every once and awhile. 

        I thought about our situation. We were apparently in a prison/labor camp, run by three psychotic freaky people. We were going to do hard field labor for the next two or so weeks. Other people had to do this too. 

        A whistle brought me out of my thoughts. The other workers shuffled through the grass towards the end of the rows, where the drums were.  

        They looked at the ground, holding their arms around themselves, huddling close together. Widow stood close by me. A man in black stood on a chair. Multiple guns and knives were strapped to his person and spit-shined leather boots encased his legs. He held a scrap of paper in one hand, and a handgun in the other. 

        "Let's see. Some of you workers haven't been making the picking amount." More shuffling and fearful murmuring. "Ah, don't worry, just three of you today. Who wants to see who it is?" No one said anything. Everyone was frozen. 

        I wasn't able to look into the future. The shot of silver drugs I had been given only allowed me one peek every six or so hours. 

        "Let's see." The man was saying. "Ferrara Tiago... Nanders Hope... and last and not least... Jack Park." No one moved. 

        He sighed indignantly. "Hurry up, you know what to do."  Three people, one woman and two men shuffled over to three stools stationed in front of the drums. They stood on the stools. Ferrara clutched a crucifix in her hands, which were shaking as she prayed. The other two made attempts to conceal their fear. 

        "If you don't work... you don't eat... And you don't work... why should we feed you?" The man raised his pistol and calmly shot each one of the three through the head. 

        Widow sucked in a breath and gritted her teeth so hard I could almost feel it. 

        But inside of me.. .

        I didn't feel anything. 

        I wasn't angry, sad, disgusted, worried, scared. Nothing. 

        The only thing I could think to do was to hum a Nirvana song under my breath. 

        Blood does not smell like teen spirit.