It started as nothing more then whispers inside the barracks-about an Alpha. Not gossip of brute strength, although they did have that, but of their stillness. Of an Alpha who didn't throw their weight around, scent-mark as if their very life depended on it and didn't immediately try to assert dominance wherever they went. This one listened, apparently. To Betas. To Omegas. Held their gazes instead of looking through them.

Now, the 141 Task Force didn't often pay attention to the circling gossip or rumours murmured throughout base. Price, especially, was always one to block out the whispers. However, when his two Sergeants-Gaz and Soap, brought up the matter over dinner in the cafeteria one night after witnessing the Alpha during training, John found his interest peaked.

“-I was a stuttering mess. Never been so flustered in my life," Gaz chuckled, shaking his head as he bite the chip on his fork. "They asked me for tips on recon strategy. Didn't just nod along either but seemed genuinely interested."

“Did you see 'em help that Beta from Delta Squad with coms calibration? Was nice to see an Alpha who didn't act as if they'd made the damn radio for once," Soap added, resting his chin onto his hand with an expression that could only be described as awe; letting out a dreamy sigh. "What an alpha."

"Doesn't sound like any Alpha I've ever met" Ghost scoffed at the Sargent's, unsure of the fresh face around base. He'd never been an easy Omega to woo.

With a soft hum of thought, Price scratched at his mutton-chops contemplatively. An Alpha who didn’t reek of entitlement? Now that was rare...

The 141 Task Force was a rare breed - an all Omegan Task Force. Having fought tooth and nail for their place within the military, the four Omegas had made a respectable name for themselves without the usual muscle of an Alpha. They didn't need leading. However, just maybe, it would be nice to have someone who steadied the storm instead of trying to control it...

"How interesting," John spoke. The other's, in-tune with the leader of their pack, were on the same wavelengths as the Captain; having known Price long enough to know what that look in his eye meant. "Soap-"

"On it, Cap" Johnny grinned.

The cafeteria was bustling. Chatter between different units and ranks, the sound of cutlery scraping against plates, most of the tables occupied. The Alpha who had been causing such a stir around base, you, entered; picking up a navy blue tray and joining the queue for dinner. Collecting your meal, you turned and allowed your gaze to flicker across the room, searching for somewhere to sit. You didn’t demand space—you just had it. Calm. Quiet. Measured. The kind of presence that made people instinctively lean in, not flinch away.

There was no space that felt, well... open, to someone such as yourself. Not for someone who didn't fit in anywhere, like you.

The other Alpha's thought you too easy-going to really be one of them. The Omegas too skittish, usually, after past experiences with arrogant Alphas. The Betas just trying to keep their heads down instead of getting involved in base gossip.

You heard someone approach from behind, unable to turn quick fast enough before a heavy arm was lazily draped over your shoulders; sending you stumbling into the other soldier's side. Looking down, you find an Omega. A friendly, almost warm, grin splitting across his face.

"Yeh alright there, rookie?" His Scottish drawl was rough around the edges, husky. "Am afraid ah have orders teh bring ya along, got someone who'd like teh meet yeh."

He steered you across the canteen, ignoring the curious stares. Ghost glanced up as you approached, nodding once. Gaz slid over to make space, smiling warmly. While Soap, gently yet firmly, pushed you down into the seat; and you allowed him to. Still not providing much, explanation wise, as to who these men were or why you'd been corralled to sit at their table. The four men unmistakeably Omegan, if their scents were anything to go by.