Deviant (A m/f omegaverse tale)

Caught

~It's update time again! For all the people who have patiently waited, this is for you. It's unedited and possibly an amateur-ish mess, but here it is! :D

And for everyone who had voted and followed within the recent week, gosh, I love ya'll. <3~

Heart in her throat, breathing labored, Deviant fought to control her panic. 

In the background, the constant ringing of shots popping off bounced from the walls, violent noises that echoed in her ears and left her tense. Screams followed sounds of impact, pained wails from masculine figures. 

Fear crystallized in her chest, causing each inhale to bring a sharp pang throughout her body. Every individual step was a struggle, but adrenaline left her confused towards the state of her own health. Crimson stained her hands and ran the length of her exposed arms, spattered like a morbid art splash of paint. She'd long since smeared it across her face, finger marks curled over the apples of her cheeks, spots dotted over her nose. But the damage wasn't her own, not that she could tell. 

She'd held the hand of a resistance solider while he choked on his own blood, her eyes glued to the dimming light in his too-young gaze. It wasn't the first time she'd comforted someone while they died, but watching death claim another victim wasn't something Deviant thought she'd ever get used to. Least of all when she was, very likely, the cause of said death. 

They'd come to rescue Jazz. But in the end, it was Deviant's misstep that had seen them into the trap. 

And after they were almost immediately assaulted while attempting to venture deeper into the Imperion compound, there was no doubt that they'd been played. 

She couldn't see him, couldn't feel more that the crippling chill of anxiety as it tore at her sanity and ran icy fingers up her spine. But she knew that he was there. No one else could wreak such havoc. 

"Get down, Moralas!" A terrified voice called out over the chaos, and despite how the warning wasn't addressed to her, Deviant immediately dropped to her knees. After years spent in the field, commands given with such desperation were rarely ignored. Thinly covered knees banged to the floor, palms absorbed the impact of her motions with a cry of exertion, but she still felt the fall reverberate through the expanse of her arms. Limbs shook weakly, but as she was trying to force herself back up, a sudden flash caught her eyes. 

Before her, a uniformed resistance solider struggled to staunch a wound in his shoulder, a gaping hole that poured blood so freely Deviant was certain an artery had been hit. Beneath the steady spill of bright red, a name tag was sewn to the camouflage fatigues, boosting the very name that had just been shouted not moments ago. She cringed away as another body moved into place, a nameless man pressing his own overshirt to the damaged area and attempting to assure his friend everything would be alright. 

Things wouldn't be alright though. 

The smoke from rapidly fired weaponry clogged up the hallway, and through the persistent ringing in her ears, Deviant could hear cries for relief from once confident men. Bodies were scattered around, thick droplets of blood riddled across the once pristine polished floors, and more than a few figures were hunched over friends and partners who had fallen during the first wave of the attack. 

But while there were no shortage of panicked humans in the Imperion compound, what the picture lacked was the perpetrators of such carnage. And that was simply because their wretched alien counterparts hadn't even had the decency to kill the resistance fighters themselves. No. Their little ragtag group had crossed some sort of invisible line mere minutes into their venture, and before they could understand the gravity of the situation, some sort of futuristic rifles had slid from the ceiling and walls, aiming with purpose before firing seconds later.