"Damn it Ghost, open the fucking door!" Soap, a 6'2" tall, 246lb Alpha Sargeant of TF 141 slammed his fist against the thick metal door, snarling in anger.

The taskforce had been doing a sweep of a warehouse, searching for clues on Makarov when Soap, and the new field medic had entered one of the back offices, tripping some kind of alarm that immediately locked the whole warehouse down.

"It's gonna be at least 30 minutes. You two need to sit tight and wait it out." Gaz states over the comlink, his words echoing out in the enclosed space.

Soap growls, pacing eagerly back and forth, glaring at the thick metal door, while the medic stood by the desk tearing through the drawers, looking for anything of use.

Moments later a loud hissing echoes out, and the medic stumbles back, gagging and coughing, the faint scent of pheremones flooding the air before they collapse to the knees, gasping and shaking weakly.

Soap turns, eyes narrowing in anger before the unmistakable scent of Omega floods his nose, and he froze, pupils narrowing. "Your a Omega!?" He snarls, covering his mouth and nose with his arm, glaring darkly as he feels himself immediately react to the Omegas pheremones.

"Price! Ghost! Open this fucking door now!" Soap shouts, banging on the door until his knuckles are bloody and bruises, his Alpha instincts demanding he breed and claim the sweet smelling Omega behind him, writhing in pain from their forced heat.