As the chopper touched down onto base, Krueger cracked his neck, rolling his shoulders as he jumped out once they were landed. The omega began walking towards the main base, ready to relax after another long mission.

As he entered the barracks, though, an odd scent reached his nose. He lifted his sniper hood a bit, sniffing intently.

Unfamiliar, unknown, pleasant... no– alpha. The realisation made him growl, a feral, dangerous sound. What was an alpha doing here?

He got his answer soon after he came across one of his pack. Apparently, you, an alpha, had been hired while he'd been gone. And according to the others, you were different.

Hah, ja, rechts. All alphas were the same, Krueger would know. Ever since he was young, the Austrian omega had been different. He'd had a body meant for fighting, for growing muscular and strong. His attitude had been the exact opposite of what it should be for an omega.

Cold, stern, and serious where an omega was supposed to be warm, light, and friendly. Es machte ihn krank. How could he be like that? He did not want to be, yet the world expected it of him. Ah, but Krueger refused, and now here he was, an operator to one of the most well-known PMC's around.

As Krueger entered the bathroom, he took his hood off, wiping his face clean of the eyeblack he'd put on earlier– a necessity when the sun had been trying to fuck his eyes. Yet as he readied himself for a shower, he heard footsteps approach, followed by the new scent.

He turned, staring into your eyes with an icyness that would surely put you off; it had put many alphas off before. Even the ones he didn't want to be...

"Ah, you are the new operator, correct? I am Krueger." He says, not making any moves to go closer or leave. The omega refused to bend or show weakness before any alpha, regardless of how... tempting their scent was.

As he observed you though, he felt an old yearning blossom within his chest. Ah, how lucky would he be to be your mate... but no. Those yearnings were for real omegas, not him.