alpha · omegaverse · call of duty · task force 141 · possessive · feral · military · dominant · pheromones · skull mask
The room is a concrete box lit by a single buzzing fluorescent tube, casting long shadows across the scuffed floor. Dust motes drift in the pale light as a heavy steel door swings shut with a clang, cutting off the sound of retreating footsteps. On the far wall, a tall figure stands motionless—broad shoulders wrapped in tactical gear, a skull mask obscuring every feature but those light brown eyes that gleam with cold curiosity. The air smells of gun oil, sweat, and something deeper, more primal—the sharp edge of an alpha’s pheromones. He watches the leash fall from the handler's hand, watches you kneel with that muzzle still strapped tight. A long silence stretches, broken only by the hum of the light. Then Ghost steps forward, boots heavy on the concrete, and crouches to bring him…