Bete Noire - Violet

It always started the same.

The night was dark and muggy. A buzzing sound from high above emanating from a bug zapper that has killed it's targets just as much as it missed them. A green light shined on the darkened patio of an old, decrepit two-story house. The wood on the house's exterior was rotted and worn from a combination of terrible weather, lack of care, and poor craftmanship in its conception. A single light shined from a second story window, flickering away as it slowly died. The rocky path in front of the house was covered in sticks, trash, littered with weeds and crude drawings carved into the ground with sticks. A road less traveled by.

Behind the house there was nothing but trees, giant green ones as tall as the sky. The front was the same. To the left was the same, only a slight crevice in between to make way for the gravelly path. To the right was an open area filled with nothing but junk. Junk cars particularly, along with all manners of trash that people didn't want. To the right was where everything went wrong. The junkyard in the open area was where someone would die.

And that's where Violet was headed.

Out of breath, sweat pouring down her back, hair sticking to her face, Violet ran with all her might. She wasn't alone though. A group of girls were with her. Everyone, including Violet, were beaten down, bruised and bloodied, but pushing onwards, unknowing of what they were running into. Only what they were running away from. Cruel laughter met their ears, horrible whoops of cruel victory as the monsters closed in on them.

The air was hot, boiling like water in a pot. The heat disorienting to the strongest of wills, overpowering to others. When Violet started this trek, there were roughly twenty girls running with her. Now there were three.

One was blonde, straight hair that hung to the middle of her back in shambles. Random parts all bunched up from getting pulled, leaves and tiny sticks falling out of it from tumbling down a hill not too long ago. Her tall, graceful dancer's body was hunched in on itself, limping along at an impressive speed. She had the typical looks of a prom queen, now she was just like an imminent victim in a horror movie. She wore a once beautiful red dress that surely would have pleased any potential partner before falling to a bedroom floor in favor of more pleasurable activities. She was a Beta.

Another was Latina, dark hair short hair sticking to her face much like Violet's was. She was short, more so than Violet who was 5'3' at best, and skinny. Alarmingly skinny. Bones protruded through her skin; her kind brown eyes drooped with exhaustion. Her hands held the right side of her ribs, breath wheezing as she panted along behind the others. She was being helped along by the final woman of the group. The only reason she lasted as long as she did. She wore jean shorts, modestly cut and not to revealing, and a white wife beater shirt stained with dirt, sweat, and drops of blood. She was an Alpha.

The one helping the Alpha was a wonderful woman whose strength could not be matched. Her dark skin often limited her in the eyes of the public, but she persevered nonetheless, refusing to ask for permission and not taking no for an answer (except in matters of consent with vulnerable situations). She was the type of woman Violet wished she could be. Strong, hopeful, and more than ready to help those in need. It was a quality she still had despite it being the reason she was in this mess. She wore dark jeans that were scraped open at the knees and a black blouse that was ripped in various places. She an Omega, just like Violet.

The girls banded together to escape horrible monsters, tyrants from an illegal and volatile organization they didn't dare put a name too. Now they headed towards a maze of junk filled with even more trouble. The third woman was practically carrying the second woman at this point, the second woman too out of breath and unhealthy to continue without killing herself for the effort. Violet and the first woman ran ahead in search of a safe place to hide.

The junkyard grew before Violet's eyes, going from roughly two cars stacked on top of each other to ten in seconds. The smell from the place filled Violet's senses but didn't affect her as it did the others. She was used to the smells of rot and decay thanks to sleeping next to a dumpster and among alleys filled with fellow people without homes as well. The others immediately plugged their noses, unaware of how much doing so hampered their focus and distracted them from the main objective.

The cruel shouts were on top of them. Violet ushered the second and third woman into a beat-up navy-blue Volkswagen filled with broken glass, all manner of bugs, torn and weathered tan leather seats, and more trash. They gingerly climbed into the front seat, Violet carefully shutting the door behind them before turning and sprinting away through the sea of broken cars.

She found refuge by climbing into the third car in a pile of stacked cars. A red 2003 mustang with no wheels, no windows, and a very dead cat. Gnats and fly's hovering and feeding off the dead carcass in the driver's seat. Violet found refuge in the back and waited with bated breath, slapping away any bugs that attempted to turn her into their next meal.

Seconds later, the monsters arrived. They wore faces of men. Harsh, cruel men that laughed at the pain they bestowed on their victims. Men that had no souls, only goals. Terrible goals to torture and murder the innocent and take over the world.

They weren't the Avengers; they were far worse.

The leader led his troop into the junkyard. His cold, steely gaze searched the area with a sickening smile. Violet shook at the sight of him. He was a tall, burly man. Muscles defined and protruding from his clothes, militaristic in both style and posture. Slight beard, dark hair, tan skin. There was a tattoo on his arm, contrasting with his skin in its dark color. The tattoo was the strangest and most interesting thing about the man. Two halves of different symbols formed together in a circular shape.

The men backing him surveyed the area with equally cruel malice as the leader. Violet's lip trembled. Hands gripping the rusted metal in the empty crevice where the window should have been in the door. She glanced at the Volkswagen in the distance, not far from where the men stood. There was movement in the car, sending Violet into a panic.

She hoped no one was found. She hoped the men gave up quickly and pressed on, never once looking back. She knew better. If the women didn't stop moving, the men were sure to find them. Violet couldn't sit there and wait it out, not when she could do something to help them. Even though it might get her killed doing so.

She slapped away more bugs, desperately searching the car for something to throw, or make a lot of noise in a different direction from the Volkswagen. Beer cans, food wrappers, drumsticks, CD's, broken wristwatch, and other worthless junk beneath the back seat. More of the same beneath the passenger seat. The Driver's seat held something promise. A glass beer bottle. That would certainly make noise.

Violet grabbed the bottle, getting a good grip on it, and peering through the windowless opening once more. She took a deep breath, steadying herself as she looked all around her, searching for the best spot to throw the bottle. To send the monstrous men away from her and the other women. The best bet was in the opening behind her, revealing the other side of the car pile. She quickly moved to the other side, readying the bottle with a firm grip.

This is where it always changed.

From this point onward, right after Violet grabbed the bottle and prepare to throw it, nothing was the same. A whole range of things happened to Violet shortly after this, things that didn't actually occur. Times where Violet was beaten bloody and left for dead, times where she was stripped naked and laughed at, times where she nearly drowned in the car, times where she was dragged away and thrown into her grave ala Ebenezer Scrooge. There was even a time the dead in the front seat came to life and tried eating her face while the monsters from below her on the ground.

This time a pair of hands shot through the opening; the cruel, grinning face of the leader peered through.

"Well, look what I found. Is that I fox I see in my garden?" His gruff voice taunted, pulling the bottle from her struggling hands while the other gripped her hair. "Are you chasing my rabbits away?"

She started screaming, using all her strength and will to free herself from his grip. He was too strong, too monstrous to compete against. She continued to defy him out of spite. He pulled her close, breathing her in and smiling a jagged smile.

"That's not a very nice thing to do. We predators need to stick together!" She screamed as he pulled her through the opening and tossed her to the hot, gravelly ground ten feet below her. She landed roughly, screaming in pain as she impacted the rocks embedded in the dirt. She tried standing to her feet, reaching her hands out to crawl away and escape the pain.

She couldn't move.

Staring down in shock, she cried at the sight she found. Her wrists tied to the ground; leather bands attached to silver chains that somehow sprouted from the ground at a moment's notice, leaving her laying on her front against her will. She whimpered in fear when she kicked her legs up and realized her ankles had met a similar fate. She tried to get up, tears streaming down her face as she fought and fought against her entrapment. Screaming in frustration, in absolute terror. Helpless and vulnerable to the monsters that gathered around her, smiling at her poor attempts.

"When will you understand?" The leaders voice caught her attention, stopping her whimpers momentarily as she listened carefully to him. "Weaklings don't deserve to live. Only the strong. Only the ones with the balls to do what they want to do. Only the ones who aren't afraid to take this world by the throat and crush it in their grip." His black boots entered her line of vision, kicking dirt in her faces. She cried more.

"You're not weak, you're like us. Strong. Better than everyone else. You're not like them," he grabbed Violet's face, pulling it up and angling it up to stare at something in front of her.

She immediately screamed.

Karen Page kneeled a few yards in front of her, crying and blubbering, blood leaking from her temple and leaving crude lines down her face and chest. Blonde hair mirroring the first woman's to a T. Was the Karen the first woman this whole time? She couldn't have been. Violet tried fighting, tried pulling free from her bondage to get to Karen. To help her. The leader slapped her in the face for her effort. She wouldn't stop.

"That's what I'm talking about," the leader laughed, slapping Violet across her face again, "keep fighting foxy. It'll only make this sweeter to watch."

Violet pulled at her bonds, screaming and crying as she fought to reach Karen, who looked hopeless and defeated. Her head bowed down, eyes lowering to stare blankly at the ground, mouth moving slightly as she murmured to herself. It looked like she was praying. One of the men raised a gun to her head, Violet screamed harder.

Everything went black.

There was no gunshot, no sickening thud of a body falling to the ground. No more laughter, no more taunts. No more leader. The heat of night suddenly began to cool. The wind began to blow, both chilling Violet to the bone and easing her pain ever so slightly. The leather cuffs released Violet, but she didn't move. Too stunned, too shocked, too lost to move anymore. She just screamed. And screamed. And screamed. And screamed.

Warm, calloused hands pulled her into a comforting embrace. Her face was gently pressed into the crook of someone's neck, and then all she could smell was whiskey. The only person she's known to smell like whiskey and provide safety from her nightmares in such a comforting way was also the only person she wanted around.

"Dad," Violet whimpered, crawling into his lap and hugging so tightly she thought she'd kill him by accident. He held her just as tightly. Wet lips kissing her temple, hot breath tickling her sweat soaked skin. Fingers gently kneading her shoulders while rubbing up and down her spine. It felt so good. So comforting. She never wanted it to end.

"I'm right here," a gruff voice responded, and Violet instantly relaxed. Smiling in relief.

Dad was here. He'll keep her safe. That's all that mattered anymore