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

Chapter 17: Every Hero (and Villain) Needs a Backstory

Chapter 17: Every Hero (and Villain) Needs a Backstory

*Jade’s POV*

            It’s been 12 days since I escaped SHIELD’s Tri-Carrier. I haven’t seen or heard from any of them since that little run in with Black Widow and Hawkeye. The last time I saw Peter too was when he was swinging around the city that one night. The past few days have been pretty normal. I stayed home, read, watched TV, and I went out to see Becca and Flair again. Let’s just say that that got interesting. I met a very, very sexy vampire and a rather large werewolf. And by large I mean muscly and intimidating, he also decided to sit right next to me which wasn’t uncomfortable at all. Note to sarcasm. Well, at least he was polite, ooo and that smile of his, of both of them was oh so nice. Also my entire world could be ripped apart if Becca screws up. But let’s dismiss this thought for now… Back to what I’ve been doing. I played the piano and a little guitar. I haven’t had time for that in a while and it felt good to be able to play again. Now I’m on my way to the gym.

My parents taught me the 2 instruments and more at a young age, but when I became a slave, it was harder to play them. After I escaped, I saw a piano and when I tried to play it, it felt natural and came easy. I also felt close to my parents. I don’t mind singing and playing for other people unless it’s my own songs. One’s that I wrote and that are personal. Only 2 people have listened to anything I composed and one of them is Peter. The other was another slave who came in when I was 16. He was a year older than me and was to be my partner when we left the cell. Now let me back up. I can’t tell you something before you even know the beginning. I had a relatively normal childhood 2 parents, no siblings, and a pretty good home to live in. Until I was 10. When I was 10, my town was raided by, I still don’t know who, and they took families and people to work and be sold as slaves. My father being a war general took us to the bunker under our house. We all sat there in silence and darkness. We heard the screams and gun shots going off on the surface and then the bunker door swung open. I remember my mother clamping her hand over my mouth and trapping the shriek in my throat. My father grips a shot gun in his hand, with a revolver strapped to his waist. His face was stern and he looked to me with strength. It gave me the courage to sit up and give him the same stern look back. I pushed my mother’s hand off of me and gave both of them a reassuring nod, promising I could be quiet. Two men with black uniforms came into the bunker. They both held powerful looking guns and searched the bunker. We were behind several crates filled with wine. My father looked around the box and then back to my mother and me. He mouthed, ‘Rester’ (Stay) and my mother nodded, but I wasn’t going to promise him I’d stay here. He ran around the corner and I heard 2 gun shots. They actually sounded more like a popping noise. I wiggled away from my mother and ran the way my father went. My mother ran after me, which wasn’t hard because I had stopped in front of the 2 men; both dead. My father popped the shell out of the gun and said,

            “Le temps d’aller.” (Time to go.) My father mainly spoke French, but he was an English man. His British accent was one of my favorite things about him.

 My mother ran to him and when their backs were turned, I grabbed one of the men’s guns and hid it in the pocket of the jacket I was wearing. Jumping over the bodies, I ran up the stairs after my parents. When my eyes adjusted to the light I saw more of the men in black uniforms collecting and pushing people into trucks. I also saw several dead bodies scattered around the streets.

            “Get them!” I heard from my left. At the time I didn’t know what it meant, but my father and mother did. My mother picked me up and began running. My father stayed through, aiming his gun at the men running towards us. I kicked out of my mother’s arms and she dropped me. I stood up and started to run towards my father.