The scalding water cascaded over my shoulders while I aggressively scrubbed my skin with a harsh chemical body wash designed specifically to neutralize my natural scent. The soap smelled strongly of artificial pine and heavy mint, and I needed to eliminate any trace of my sweet Omega biology before I stepped into a locker room filled with professional Alpha athletes.
I turned off the shower handle after ensuring my skin was completely clean, so I could grab a towel from the metal rack to dry my hair. I walked out of the humid bathroom and moved directly into my narrow kitchen because I needed to prepare a heavy breakfast.
Since maintaining the physical illusion of an Alpha required a massive amount of daily calories, I retrieved a carton of eggs from the refrigerator and placed a frying pan on the electric stove. I cracked four eggs into a glass bowl and whisked them together with a metal fork just as my cell phone began to vibrate against the granite countertop. I reached over and tapped the screen to answer the call on speakerphone so I could continue cooking my meal without interruption. I poured the beaten eggs into the hot pan and listened to the immediate sizzling sound.
"Please tell me you are calling to confirm the next shipment of my medication," I said while stirring the eggs with a wooden spatula.
"The package will arrive at your apartment by tomorrow evening, but we need to discuss your dosage," my supplier and longtime friend, Julian, replied through the phone speaker. "You ordered an extra month of the highest grade blockers, and that amount is dangerous for your internal organs."
"I just transferred to the most aggressive team in the elite league, and I cannot afford a single scent slip," I explained as I scraped the cooked eggs onto a ceramic plate. "I am walking into a locker room entirely populated by massive Alphas who will report me to the league officials if they smell anything unusual. The league charter strictly forbids Omegas from stepping onto professional ice, and the administration enforces that rule with permanent bans and you already know it is a luxury I can't afford."
"I understand your anxiety about the new environment, although you cannot overdose on these synthetic hormones without causing permanent damage to your nervous system and your liver," Julian warned me with a very stern tone. "I review the blood test results you send me every month, and your liver enzymes are already elevated from the previous season. You have to strictly follow the medical schedule we established, or your body will eventually reject the chemicals entirely and force you into an early heat cycle right in the middle of a hockey game."
"I will follow the schedule, yet I need the stronger dose on hand just in case my adrenaline spikes during a heavy physical confrontation on the ice and burns through the standard blockers," I compromised while taking a large bite of my food. "I am playing alongside Mikhail Volkov starting today. His reputation for micromanaging his line mates is widely documented in the sports media, and the team management expects us to run offensive drills together all afternoon."
"Volkov is incredibly observant and highly territorial, so you need to keep your physical distance from him whenever you are not actively playing," Julian advised before letting out a heavy sigh over the speaker. "He destroyed the career of his last co-captain because he suspected the man of leaking playbook strategies. If Volkov even suspects you are hiding your true designation, he will personally drag you in front of the league tribunal to have your contract terminated."
"I know the risks, and I have successfully hidden my biology for three years without anyone discovering the truth," I stated firmly, projecting a confidence I did not fully feel. "I just need to survive the initial locker room introductions and establish my place on the active roster. Once I show them my speed on the ice, they will stop focusing on my background."
"Just take your standard morning dose, make sure you eat your full meal to coat your stomach, and call me immediately after your first practice concludes so I know you survived," Julian instructed me.
I agreed to check in later, and I ended the call to finish eating my breakfast in silence. I carried my empty plate to the sink and washed it with warm water before walking into my bedroom to get dressed. I selected a long-sleeved athletic shirt with a high collar designed to conceal the thick medical patch I needed to apply directly over my scent gland. I sat on the edge of my bed and opened my gym bag to retrieve the small plastic bottle containing my illegal suppressants. I unscrewed the childproof cap, shook two chalky white pills into the palm of my hand, and stared at them for several long seconds.
I swallowed the pills dry, and my stomach immediately rolled in protest against the harsh chemicals. A wave of intense nausea washed over me, causing me to lean forward and rest my elbows on my knees while I waited for the initial sickness to pass. The suppressants always triggered a severe headache and a cold sweat during the first twenty minutes of absorption into my bloodstream.
I closed my eyes and practiced my deep breathing exercises until my heart rate stabilized and the nausea faded into a manageable dull ache in my lower abdomen. I peeled the protective backing off a fresh scent-blocking patch and pressed the adhesive firmly against the sensitive skin on the side of my neck.
Once I felt physically stable, I stood up, grabbed my heavy equipment duffel bag, and left my apartment to begin the drive to the training facility. I navigated through the morning city traffic while consciously forcing my mind into the aggressive and arrogant persona I needed to project. I merged onto the busy highway and gripped the leather steering wheel tightly to ground myself against the lingering side effects of the medication. The heater in my car blew warm air against my face, but I still shivered slightly because the chemical suppressants always lowered my core body temperature.
I mentally reviewed the team roster and the established hierarchy of the locker room while I drove. I knew I had to establish physical dominance early, or the veteran players would constantly challenge me for my position on the starting line. I focused my thoughts on the offensive plays I memorized from the digital playbook the coach emailed me yesterday.
I arrived at the arena parking lot twenty minutes later and parked my car in the designated player section near the rear entrance. I turned off the engine, but I did not immediately open my door. I sat perfectly still in the driver's seat to finalize my physical transformation. I pushed my shoulders back to broaden my posture, and I arranged my facial features into an expression of absolute indifference.
An Alpha in this league would never show hesitation or vulnerability, so I ensured my body language communicated complete confidence. I took one final deep breath to steady my nerves before I grabbed the door handle.
I lifted my duffel bag from the passenger seat, pushed my car door open, and stepped out into the freezing morning air. The massive concrete structure of the training arena loomed in front of me, and I walked toward the glass entrance doors with heavy, deliberate footsteps. The cold wind bit at my exposed cheeks, whereas my heavy jacket protected my torso from the chill. I adjusted the high collar of my shirt one final time to guarantee the scent patch remained completely hidden from view.
I reached the entrance and extended my hand to grab the heavy metal door handle. I pulled the door open and stepped forward, fully prepared to march directly down the hallway to the locker room.
Before I could take a second step inside the building, a deep and incredibly authoritative voice echoed from the corridor directly in front of me.
"You are currently blocking the entrance, rookie, and I strongly suggest you move out of my way before I move you myself."