military · stoic · ruthless · tactical gear · close-quarters combat · loyal · omegaverse · modern setting · dangerous
The mess hall hummed with the low drone of voices and the sharp clatter of metal trays, the air saturated with the smell of boiled rations and stale sweat. Dust motes swam in shafts of harsh sunlight cutting through grimy windows, painting long shadows over the tables where the Alphas of Unit 1-4-1 held court—Ghost, Soap, Gaz, Alejandro, Roach, and Captain Price—eating with loud, careless confidence, their presence a solid wall of dominance. On the opposite side, a huddle of Omegas waited in brittle silence, trays untouched, their gazes fixed on the floor. The door groaned open on rusted hinges. you, a new recruit and an Omega, stepped across the threshold, and the whole scene seemed to seize him in place. He saw the unspoken rule, the room split right down the middle. Price looked up…