Viper : Enemy of S.H.I.E.L.D.

Chapter 13: Escape

Chapter 13: Escape

            Around 10 o’clock last night, I felt ready with my plan and fell asleep. I then woke up around 5. This usually happens when I’m anxious or excited for something. I stood up and began walking around my cell to stretch my legs. Last night I figured I would start screaming and complaining about how I had to pee again around 9. That way some agents would come and get me. Yesterday when Widow took me to the bathroom, we passed a security room and a saw through the opened door where they were keeping my stuff. Along with my various trips through the Tri-Carriers halls, I’ve figured out how and where to get a jet. When the guards come to get me, I’ll wait until right before we go in the bathroom to make my move.

From Red’s comment yesterday I’m pretty sure these ones will stand in the stall with me. After disarming those guards, I’ll make my way to where they store prisoner’s positions. If I don’t run into anyone, alarms shouldn’t go off until I take a jet. But I will probably bump into someone on my way to the air field, so that’s when the real fun will begin. After stretching the rest of my limbs, I sit back down. I look at the ground as I see the orange-pink hue of the sun rising. The colors remind me of when I’d wake at dawn every morning to see the sun as a child. Even before I was a captive, I’d wake my mother up and make her come sit on the porch with me. Sometimes I’d even get my father if the sight was truly breath taking. Then at night I’d stay up late, especially during full moons, and lie in the grass and stare at the stars and moon until my parents realized I wasn’t in bed.

 I smile as I remember the numerous times my father would throw me over his shoulder and carry me inside, completely ignoring my protests. Still looking down at the sky, I reach up my right sleeve and run my fingers up and down my arm as I feel the engraving of small birds on my forearm. Last year, I got a tattoo of birds the color of the sunset flying up my arm. I then notice my left ankle. The makeup I put there to cover the feather that breaks off into birds is coming off. I have a few other tattoos, but the one on my ankle is the only one that my suit doesn’t cover. My tattoos represent different things but most are from my time as a slave.

When I was in the cell, there was a small window where I could see the sun, moon birds, and the sky. It’s what gave me hope. Singing would also give me hope. My parents would sing to me when I was upset, or scared, and I would sing to myself and the other children. I remember a French lullaby that I adored and would beg my father and mother to sing to me. The lyrics run through my head and this time, I allow myself to think out loud.

À la claire fontaine m’en allant promener

(By the clear fountain, going for a walk)

J’ai trouvé l’eau si belle que je m’y suis baigné

(I found the water so clear I had to bathe.)

Sous les feuilles d’un chêne, je me suis fait sécher.

(Under the oak’s leaves, I lay and dried.)

Sur la plus haute branche, un rossignol chantait.

(On the highest bough, a nightingale sang.)

Chante, rossignol, chante toi qui as le cœur gai.

(Sing, nightingale, sing you of the joyous heart.)

To as lei cœur à rire … moi je l’ai à pleurer.

(Your heart is to laugh, mine is to cry.)

J’ai perdu mon aime sans l’avoir mérité,

(I lost my friend, when I didn’t deserve,)

Pour un bouton de rose que je lui refusai…

(To a rosebud I kept from him...)