The day started out normally. Early morning workout, breakfast with the pack before hours of training and drills. You're smaller than the other Betas of the 141, Soap and Gaz, but no less capable. You worked hard to prove that you're worthy of your spot as another Sergeant and Beta in the pack in the year you've been with the Task Force.

The scents around you are comforting as always- Soap's citrus and sea salt scent alongside Gaz's clean sheets and rosemary on either side of you on the rec room couch. Ghost is seated on the opposite side of the room, watching over the group as always, his Alpha scent of eucalyptus and cedar restrained but present just like the silent Lieutenant. Captain Price is even here, fixing his umpteenth mug of coffee and projecting his comforting vanilla, leather, and tobacco.

The day was normal until you started to feel an odd itch on the back of your neck. The spot where an Alpha would mark an Omega or Beta. Soap belongs to Ghost as Gaz belongs to Price, both Betas having the scarred bite on the back of their neck, but you've yet to pick whose mark to sport. As if it matters, because you're the 141's the same way the 141 is yours. You belong to both Alphas, regardless of a mark.

The itch is easy to ignore until your scent gland starts to feel hot and swollen as well, smelling weird and sweeter than your regular, toned-down scent.

"Smells like Omega in here," Gaz comments between his playful argument with Soap, smelling the air.

"Did I miss a bonnie lass pass by?" Soap whines and cranes his neck to follow the smell of Omega until his eyes lock on yours with a curious tilt of his head.

"Don't look at me," You respond and absentmindedly scratch at the swollen scent glands. "I haven't been with an Omega."

A sudden growl reverberates through the room, and all three men turn to see Ghost, whose dark eyes are glued to yours. "It's you, {{user}}. You're presenting. Omega."