Chapter Text
The guards spoke of the Vault.
Secure. Safe. Unbreakable.
Reliably Inescapable.
High ceilings. Smooth concrete walls. No windows. Closed doors. Ambient lighting reflected on polished floors. Never dimmed. Never turned off. Not here. Not in the room known as the Holding Pen.
You cowered in the corner uncomfortably. The frigid room always lacking warmth. Handcuffs holding your wrists together in front of you. A muzzle attached to your face to stop your jaw opening more than a fraction. Long ago were the days when you’d attempt to find a seam to take it off. Long ago you’d realised the wire contraption was welded on permanently.
Other Omegas joined you on the bench running the length of the wall, all clothed in dark brown scrubs. Anonymous. Alike one another down to your dirty hair and dulling skin. All personality you’d had before… gone.
You shut your eyes, trying to block out the space before you.
Most of the time an Omega would sit up on the benches until they couldn’t any more. A mattress filled the floor area allowing others to try to sleep. A toilet in the corner with a broken sink gave no privacy nor relief.
Waiting.
Waiting for the moment you were chosen.
Hard to define without daylight or time keeping. It was all you thought about. All you hoped for. All you dreaded.
Hard steps would echo down the hall before the door would burst open. The guards would enter with their armour and batons. It was a careful process. The guards always knew who they wanted. It was never the same Omega. Taken from the flock they’d be dragged out by their shackles, feet scrambling behind them, howling from the small give their muzzle would allow.
The Omegas always returned, but they were never the same.
Battered and bruised they’d be thrown back into the holding pen. One Omega had whispered a word in delirium before they passed out.
“Asset.”
They refused to utter the word again once they awoke from their concussion. Guards were always listening. It wasn’t good to speak. The muzzle made it hard. Not impossible, but impractical.
The returned were never picked again, not in the same way, just held for other ambiguous reasons. Sometimes Rumlow and Rollins picked one out personally, scanning the room. Their eyes would scan over you before they chose an Omega who had definitely been picked before. Scorn on their faces as they dragged one previously rejected for their own use. You wondered why they left you and the others unchosen be.
Who was the higher power protecting you? Deciding for you? Who had the say in when you were chosen and why were they unable to pick you for themselves?
It was a relief, when you gazed up at the beads of sweat coating their skin, their scent permeating the room. Rut.
The poor Omegas used for the guards ruts were always worse off than when they were brought back from being unchosen. Black and blue bruises would fade within the week but their resolve was always broken down with it. If Rumlow and Rollins used them again, the struggling would cease. The omegas would be resigned to their fate.
You wondered when it was your turn.
When would you see what they’d seen? Would you be used for ruts once you’d been returned? To be used by guards every quarter? How was this facility working? What were you here for? How could they collect so many Omegas? Nothing made sense. Omegas were too highly prized in society to hurt. They were the breeders. The nurturers. They were needed. Demanded. As an Omega you had strict health checks each year in the name of reproductive health. What would happen when you missed yours? Would anyone realise? Would anyone notice?
Was anyone missing you?
Hard steps echoed down the hall pulling you from your thoughts. The air in the holding pen changed. Tense. No one dared breathe as the door flew open, six guards with batons raised burst in, kicking any Omegas off the mattress and back onto the bench. Everyone in the holding pen cowered into the wall.
They scanned the room, growling at the line. Analysing faces. The nearest held up his baton, pointing the dull end up to your nose.
“You. Cuffs up.”
Your breath stuttered in your chest.
“Now.”
He lurched forward, grabbing your cuffs from your lap before you had a moment to process what he was saying.
He pulled you roughly forward, knees hitting the floor as they missed the mattress. The pain was too distracting to compute what was happening as he began to drag you from the room with a growl. The other agents shifted around you as you were taken from the holding pen.
You whimpered in brighter light. Feet scrambling for purchase on the glossy floors as the fleet of guards travelled quickly down the corridor. You managed to get a step underneath you. Then another. Another. Stumbling you managed to get upright, still being dragged but standing all the same.
The guard pulling you along gave you a look. Surprise? Impressed?
He didn’t slow as you wound down the corridors, left, right, right again.
Straight into a cloakroom, past lockers and benches, further into a shower room.
The guard pulled your handcuffs up high above your head as two others descended on your scrubs with a blade, both slicing cleanly through the material until you were stood in just your underwear.
“Shower quick or you won’t get fresh clothes.” The guard barked.
Another tore your underwear off as the first dragged you away by the cuffs into a shower cubicle. He slammed you against the tiles before punching the water button, letting cold spray hit you straight in the face.
Rubbing your eyelashes clear you found a bar of soap sitting ready inside shelf. You began to clumsily wash yourself, dragging it through your hair to clean it through, unsure as to when you would next be allowed to feel clean.
How long had it been? Were the others allowed to cleanse?
“Enough.” The guard barked. Watching the suds run down the drain.
You turned, catching the six guards staring at your skin.
“Here.” The first guard held out a hand expectantly for your cuffs. You stared at his hand, too slow to to react.
“Now Omega.” The guard commanded.
You held out your wrists.
He dragged your forward out the cubicle. Cold air hit your skin, making it pimple as two guards ran towels over you roughly.
The first guard was picking at your cuffs, letting one fall off your wrist he held your hand tight. Too tight. You whimpered as he squeezed your fingers together.
“Get dressed.” The guard growled. “Quickly.”
Another passed you a folded pair of familiar scrubs. You fumbled, flapping the top out into shape before throwing it over your head, pulling out each arm as quickly as possible.
The first Guard grabbed hold of your wrists, pausing your dressing as he cuffed you back together.
You stared at him, as he picked up your bottom half from where the material had fallen to the floor.
“Quickly.” He reminded you.
You tried to lick your lips, your muzzle making it near impossible.
“May I have, underwear?” You grit.
“You won’t need it.” The guard replied, an odd expression on his face.
You swallowed hard, shaking out the trousers, getting them on a quickly as possible.
The guard was almost patient as he waited for you to straighten up. Odd.
He took hold of you, dragging you out the shower room, down corridors long and winding until you stood in front of a door protected by two guards.
Your guard held up your cuffs as the door guards took you in.
“Is he ready?” Your guard asked.
A door guard smirked.
“He’s ready. Is she ready?”
Your guard growled.
“Let her in. We will see.”
A chill ran up your spine as the door was unlocked, opening into a dark room.
The scent of rut was clear as it bellowed out the doorway into the corridor.
Pine. Clear. Fresh. The cleanest scent you'd had the pleasure to enjoy since you arrived at The Vault.
You chanced a look to your guard, he was watching you closely.
Letting go of your cuffs, he pushed you into the room.
You spun to catch his unreadable expression as the door was snapped shut in front of you.
You let go of a breath you’d been holding, until a movement to your right distracted you.
In the dim light, the broad shoulders of an Alpha stood to greet you.