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Viper has only known pain, pain from the needles sliding into her skin as she was unmade and made again to be this monster who only lives and breathes poison. Sabine, she would remind herself time and time again. Sabine, Omen would call her because she begged and begged him not to forget, to tell her once she woke from the medically induced coma the scientists put her in.
Viper never forgot her name but left her humanity instead, so Sabine was buried underneath the toxins running through her veins and Viper was born. Viper was the person unafraid of pain, who only sought to play with people’s minds and strike with her fangs to wreak destruction at a large scale. It’s why her team tolerates her sarcastic quips and general spiky demeanor.
Because she was Viper and not Sabine.
And then he came. Sova was his name, like the bird, the owl. He fit in right away, and Viper felt silent rage at the ease he integrated himself with the team. But, Sabine didn’t really hate him, nor was she envious. Viper was treated as genially as he treated everyone else.
Viper hated the way he thanked her for covering his back; she hated the way he looked at her like she was something to behold because she ran the missions; she especially hated the way he looked out for her during missions as if she was worth something more than what she is.
Sabine loved all of it.
She cornered him one day at the base, “What do you want, pretty boy?”
He tilted his head like an owl, his augmented eye twinkling in the sunlight and Viper might have hated him more there because every pull of his face was genuinely bewildered, like he couldn’t imagine not being nice to her.
“I’m sorry?” He asked, looking very confused. Viper clicked her tongue and tapped her feet, ire bubbling up her chest.
“Why are you being nice to me?” She demanded, cocking her hip. “You must have heard it now. I’m crazy and a snake, so tell me why the fuck you’re being nice to me.”
“Am I not supposed to? I feel like I am missing something here.” Viper clicked her tongue once again and turned on her heels, face flushed with embarrassment.
“So you think I’m pretty?” He called after her, and she didn’t have to turn to see the smug grin on his face. Her only response was the middle finger.
The first time Sova met Viper was how it usually goes when meeting your superior officer. She was the team leader, he was the newbie. She called the shots, he followed. Jett had warned him not to get on any of her side because she was a wee bit strange with her love of poisons to the point of ingesting them daily.
Babushka told him not to judge a book by its cover, and Sova loved Babushka so Sova tried his best to not let the strange looks he got trying to form a conversation with her get to him.
Even if the strange look was from her.
The second mission he had with her was nearly a failure, with Phoenix getting hit in the arm by the enemy. Morale was not good with them getting bombarded from all sides, especially with Phoenix down.
“Use my poison to your advantage, I don’t deploy them for kicks!” She had said, then taken one look at the shot man and smirked, “Burn them, Phoenix.”
The downtrodden man stared at her for a moment, before shrugging away Sage’s hands.
“Let’s get this show started!” Phoenix cried out, activating a wall of fire. Sova raised a defined brow and chuckled to himself. He saw that nobody really accepted Viper for what she is, too afraid and too cautious to approach her—except for Omen and his weird relationship with her. (Who was Sabine?) But Sova wasn’t, and he saw what no one wanted to see from Viper. They all respected her and valued her professional opinion, but no one really saw her desire to fit in, to call the team her friends and family.
Thus Sova took it upon himself to do it. He found that she had a sharp tongue, but it was never used against them. Her eyes were green, yet not like poison but curious gleaming emeralds. She always looked like she wanted to ask, but could never speak out.
She was a curious woman, hiding behind layers and layers of snark and quips.
So when Sova, who towered over her like a skyscraper, was cornered one day and was called pretty boy, color him charmed. And the way she flushed was yet the most he’s seen her face do.
Babushka did teach him that the most startled prey was the easiest to capture.
And Sova was on the hunt for Viper.
Viper regretted cornering him that day. It seemed like the man took it as permission to get even more aggressively friendly with her. He would sit with her during lunch, during downtime, and during missions. The more miserly she seemed to him, the more he would laugh (and sometimes even bump shoulders with her!)
Sabine was in love more than ever.
Then the opportune moment came for him, once her walls were down and alcohol was in her bloodstream.
“Don’t,” she said, slurring. He tilted his head towards her, pale strands falling over his shoulders and Sabine nearly tugged on it but Viper held on.
“Don’t what?” He asked, as if he didn’t know what he was doing. As if he wasn’t breaking down the shield around her poisoned heart one by one and making her love him.
“Don’t be nice to me,” she whispered, looking him in the eyes. His eyes glittered under the low light and Sabine felt her heart stutter. “I’m a monster. I don’t deserve your attention.”
“I believe I’ll be the judge of that,” he said, reaching towards her and brushing her fringe away and tucking it behind her ears. His touch made her blood simmer under her skin and the heat rushed to her cheeks. Was it her or was he getting closer?
“ Sabine ,” Omen rasped from behind her. Sabine and Sova jumped apart, and oh, he was getting closer. “You’ve had enough alcohol.”
“Yeah, sorry, my bad,” she fumbled, trying to stand. Omen grasped her arm and dragged her away from the after mission party.
“ What were you thinking ,” Omen hissed once they were farther away from the group.
“I know, I know, I got too careless—”
“I can’t believe you’re doing this drunk, Sabine. At least do it sober.” Sabine blinked, waking up from her drunk stupor immediately. Omen appeared to be pinching his nose bridge, a hand on his cocked hip.
“You… what?” Omen gave her a look.
“We’ve been too alone for far too long, Sabine. Did you think I was going to stop you from finding lifelong happiness?” Sabine frowned.
“We’re not like them, Omen, we’re not human anymore.”
“You still have flesh, my friend, a soul , and I think he saw that.”
Sova nearly punched himself for making such an error. Babushka surely would, seeing as she taught him to be an upstanding man. He should have asked before leaning in, what a rookie mistake.
Still, something was different with the two of them now. If Sova was looking at her, she would be looking back; If Sova was joking, she would laugh with him; And if Sova brushed his hand against her accidentally, he wondered if she brushed back accidentally as well.
“Sabine,” she said during a mission. Sova let an arrow fly before glancing at her.
“I feel as if I’ve heard that before.” He crouched low, switching to his gun.
“My name is Sabine, not Viper.” Sova froze, meeting her emerald eyes. She seemed uncomfortable, but there was a determined glint in her gaze that appeared to suck him in. May Babushka forgive him because he was so overjoyed, he reached for her mask and kissed her.
She tasted like mint and Sova wondered if that’s what her poison tasted like because he would kiss her again and again.
Sabine and Viper knew pain so intimate it makes their blood boil, makes their teeth rattle, and puts a shiver down their spine. But kissing Sova right here, right now, (very unadvised once she really thought about it later), Sabine and Viper thought this kind of pain that makes her blood boil, makes her teeth rattle, and puts a shiver down her spine, might not be so bad after all.
“Sabine,” he said, “Sabine.”
And she was Sabine not Viper, but she was also Viper as she was Sabine.
And Sova knew all of her.