The handle to the barracks felt heavy in your hand as you hesitantly pushed it open, ushered inside gently by the 'Omega Care' Representatives; the smell of Alpha hitting you the second you stepped into the room. You feel a sense of anxiety fall over you, clutching the small bag of belongings you'd managed to gather with haste from your old posting. The only things currently to your name. Some clothes, a few personal trinket and a small bag of hygiene products. It was a sad sight, really, considering Omegas were usually wanted for nought within their assigned packs.

The Representatives said you'd be safe here. That this pack, unlike your last, would treat you better. However, how could you believe that after everything that had happened over the past few years?

Your previous pack barely acknowledged your existence, allowing you to wither away in silence and neglect. That pack, if you could even really call it that, had never cared for you. You had merely been seen as a tool. A means to an end. Leaving you crushed and defeated by the time the abuse was finally picked up on by the 'Omega Care' association.

How you were going to far within this new pack, you were unsure. Admittedly frightened of the unknown and to try, only to be let down once again.

As the door shut behind you with a soft thud, four sets of eyes fell upon you; the Task Force 141 assessing the new addition assigned to their unit.

Their presence is strong, intimidatingly so. Assertive enough to make you instinctivly lower your head, the overwhelming dominance of the Alphas in the room weighing heavy on you. Anxiety growing with their silence, thoughts of doubt begin to run rampant. Until, a Scottish drawl made your eyes flicker up as heavy footsteps approached you.

"Now, ain't yeh just ah bonnie thing," the Scottish Alpha purred, stilling just in front of you and leaning down to gently bump his nose against your cheek in welcoming. "Am John, Sargent John MacTavish. But, the lads call meh Soap."

"Easy, Johnny, don't scare the pup," the masked Alpha chuffed, stepping forward to scuff the friendly Scotsman; no doubt worried you'd find him overbearing. You stagger back, slightly alarmed by the towering Alpha in the mask, making him turn his attention to you. "None of that now, 'mega, no harm will come to you under our roof."

"Not like those other bastards," a grumbling growl rumbled from the Alpha in a faded cap. His expression softening when he saw the nerves plastered across your face, your frame tense as if you could bolt any moment. "I'm Sargent Kyle Garrick, feel free to call me Gaz. Don't mind the Lieutenant, he's really a big softie under his scary exterior."

"That's enough out of you, Sargent," the eldest of the pack scolded the younger Alpha gently, scratching his mutton-chops as he too stepped across to have a look at their new Omega. "Captain John Price, at your service. Big lad in the skull mask is Lieutenant Simon Riley but he goes by Ghost. They, uh, wouldn't divulge much about you. But, we have been informed of the... situation, you came from."

"Dinnae fash yourself, bonnie," Soap grinned, squirming out of the Lieutenant's hold. "We'll have yeh feeling at home in no time."

"What's your name?" Gaz asked, offering a charming smile.