They slept in what Quinn would deem must have once been an asylum.
Within stoney unfurnished walls of crumbling physical infrastructure, six Alphas were assigned to a tiny room so small that it was enough for her to feel claustrophobia creeping in her throat. Curtains were the only barriers that protected her from the rest, each bed stacked upon another in a cesspool of body odour.
Quinn had a space to herself at the top bunk, her name stamped to the edge, the ceiling kissed the tips of her forehead when she laid down upon a plank wrapped in a plastic sheet. The pillow was as hard as rocks, and she put it away in exchange for a little more space between her and the ceiling.
They were cots, metallic and rusting-like beds from the army or a ward for the mentally ill in an asylum.
There was a single bathroom plastered to the corner hidden by another plastic sheet. It was limited to a single hose from the top as the shower and the sink, with a squatting toilet at the base which promised a lifetime of a room that smelled like human waste.
And yet her roommates had marvelled at the incredible access to running water. Quinn had simply stared, a little incredulous, extremely disappointed. She had better things with much lesser, but the others had smiles. It wasn't too bad for them, and their happiness grew when basic necessities were provided, their first set for being good at the blood bank.
Tampons, a toothbrush and a comb.
Pathetic.
Her peers had been delighted, and seemed genuinely happy over the little items, quickly accepting the space that they had. The gummy scent of moulding walls and the ripeness of wet paint splashed over the walls.
Quinn sniffed, hands pouring over the roughness of what this room could have been. And wondered if they laid quite prettily in what would later be their coffins, beds that could be easily burned and tossed.
The collar on their necks was always turned on, and Quinn found that they had an almost impossible mechanism within. Her brows had furrowed, and lips curved downwards. There was magic within, blood dipped within the wiring.
She'd say that it was the vampires, their magic twisting within the veins of the metal, preventing tampering and keeping it afloat. And a single wrong move could send her head flying off her body, the taps of her finger upon the wiring told her enough of the strength that was held within the clasp. Quinn gave up after that, her disappointment ballooning in her chest.
On the first night, she struggled to sleep, for the lights dimmed but never turned off. The unsettling whir of a camera spun from the ceiling, monitoring their every move. There was always a team of patrolling Omega, soldiers with guns, batons and swords. They weren't afraid to use them. And Quinn swore she heard echoing screams down the halls, piercing as they broke through the snores of her roommates.
The sun was beating down from bars in the ceiling when she awoke, flashing bright and hot into her eyes revealing nothing of her location but the endless blue of the sky. And she'd brushed her teeth first with the cheap grimy paste they offered with her feet plastered to the sides of the squatting toilet.
They had been marched to a food hall to the sight of three bodies swinging from the ceiling, each with a different death from a different act of disobedience. Quinn had stared, felt fear pool in her guts at the burns on one, the loss of a head-on another, and the lack of limbs from the third. The first had tried to escape her room, the second had tampered with her collar, and the third had reached for an Omega soldier and tried to rape him.
The disgust had coiled deep in her throat, the rage expanding in her chest. God, they were prisoners and the Alphas had the audacity to try? Were they fucking insane? The women hanging from the ceiling weren't females from their department but they might as well have been.
Because there was no food for all on the first day, the items they'd received had been taken. Her toothbrush, her comb, her tampons. All of it was gone, the water was turned off, and the little window at the top of their cell was closed for good.
They spent an hour in the sun, all forty of the invalids, burning under the awful climate. The air was heavy with heat, the murmur of insects whispering by their ears and still, they could not move. Quinn had squinted through the sweat that streaked down her cheeks, sweat glossing her upper lip and dripping down the valley of her breasts.
They stood in the sun with heavy frocks that stretched to their ankles, their faces shadowed by a veil over their heads. Hunger did not come to her belly, for the scene before her stole that all away. At the centre of the space were the roommates of the dead, punished for watching and not preventing.
They were electrocuted, and their collars turned on and off. The women were twitching and pissing themselves in the sun. They were sobbing and drooling through the pain, and when it stopped they laid on the ground almost lifeless as they waited, and then it started all over again.
The punishment continued for three hours, as the rest watched in horror, promising to never do the same. And the Omega soldiers only stood, clad so heavily that their faces could not be seen. On their lips, they whispered the spells to turn the collars on and off. There was no button to be used, no contraption to steal, at least not one in sight.
It was torture and a blatant show of the Omegas' power over their bodies.
They started with fear, was what Quinn had grimly thought to herself, and then they would offer the little necessities back as if the items were gold. The Alphas would be brainwashed to yearn for the little gifts, would be turned against one another.
Three days later they had their items back for being good, and an extra scoop of gruel at breakfast with a dash of meaty preserves. The girls that were punished did not. Quinn had watched the hate-filled whispers, the angry bumps of shoulders from the other Alphas against the punished women.
It was too easy, Quinn had sighed, finished her plate, too easy to turn them pliant and submissive. Too easy to end what was left of their fighting spirit. And it would only become easier when routine settled in heavy on their shoulders.
After the Omegas had deemed them good enough, and none tried to stick a toe out of line, they were given their jobs. The invalids were ushered to a new building after breakfast, a team of six tied to a head Alpha that was already working on the role. An Alpha that had been a prisoner of war, with her scent glands torn out and her reproductive parts destroyed.
The ferns were bathroom cleaners, glorified and only a little above the hard laborers that worked the breaking machines and the rusting hulls. The death-licking jobs that involved the digging of mines, tirelessly within the cold, the heat and the storms. But ferns scrubbed toilets, fixed plumbing and worked knee-deep in shit.
It seemed more like a punishment than a job. And Quinn's expression had soured rapidly.
But their head Alpha; a prisoner of war heavily brainwashed and a little too happy had denied that with a dreamy shake of her head. They were huddled close, dressed neatly in aprons tied into ribbons that held back the long sleeves of their frocks. An Omega soldier was stationed beside them but far enough for her words to have a tad of privacy, but Quinn had a feeling that their conversation was recorded and monitored.
"We might be of low rank." Her name was Mina and she seemed kinkier than most, had a pinned star on her lapel like a high-ranking sergeant in the army. She didn't seem quite like a cleaner, with olive skin and toned muscles much like an athlete, of an age that made her hair grow silver. "But we're also allowed into nest rooms to clean because of our invalid nature. Toilets are very intimate fixtures for Omegas where fluids flow free. Which means we're close to their waste. You must have seen the Reward?" Her hands made a quick gesture, and immediately Quinn's mind darted to Omega piss.
There were nods from the group. And Quinn let loose a low exhale, scratched at the thick uniform clad around her frame. God damn was shovelling shit a fucking reward now? Were they encouraged to eat it all up?
"You might get to smell a trace of Omega slick on some days!" Was her perky laugh, a brilliant grin on her face, a mild drip of insanity."And if you're really,really good." Her voice dipped into a whisper. "We're professional about it, of course, we have to. You know what they'll do to us if we don't. But we get to scrub bathrooms after a Heat. And it's–I'll say better than the Reward. "
There were low groans from the Alphas but Quinn stared incredulously at the group. Good lord, they were insane.
"I was promoted for doing good work," was her continued seemingly planted story. "So it's possible even for our lower rank. I was once only an F because my reproductive parts are a little beaten up during the war. I'm now a C which gives me my own room, the ability to go out without supervision, and a better job. And because of that I've met a pack, I believe they've taken a liking to me but only time will tell."
This had the other Alphas on alert, their eyes widening. And Mina only laughed.
"If you do well, the Omegas will promote you. And once you're promoted, you can work amongst Omegan society as I do. From there, if a pack takes a liking to you for excellent work, you may be purchased during the auction officially becoming their Alpha. We have that after you complete all basic training and have assimilated into life here–"
"Purchased?" was Quinn's blurted question. "Like a slave?" This had Mina's eyes shifting to hers, a dance of something within the depths of steely grey.
"Like a pack Alpha," was her quick and swift answer. " With even better room and board than I do, you'll have a family, people to care for, and people that will care for you. You won't have to stay in the dormitories that you do now. And if they're wealthy you might not need to work, but you could always start saving up–"
She pulled a stack of stamps from her pocket, declaring them to be the currency and easing the conversation away. But Quinn felt the strangeness of an arrangement that was too good to be true coming from people that electrocuted and tortured.
There was no way the Omegas would accept them so easily and quickly. Quinn's heart sank. Was this entire arrangement a preparation for them to become subservient to a pack of Omegas? But she knew without a doubt that for the Alphas by her side, an Omega pack was hope. A chance to be saved from the pain of Ruts, a chance for normalcy.
But for a Beta like Quinn, a broken Alpha that would not be impacted by pheromones, could not soothe an Omega, and did not have proper Ruts like the Alphas. It was nothing but an inconvenience.
"The blood bank pays for your room and board. But do a good job at work and you'll earn stamps that you can exchange for necessities from your head dormitory Omega. Things like soap and better toothpaste. Spices for your food. Wouldn't you like more salt in your meals, girls?" There were groans of agreement from the rest and Mina beamed. "When you leave the house of fern, these stamps can be exchanged for gold for your pack. So work hard!"
There was a small smile from her before the Omega soldiers stepped forward ending their conversation to usher them to their new workplace. Her first assignment was a bathroom in a factory. Mina was assigned to her team as the supervisor, with Omega soldiers lurking at the exits.
For a space so goddamn disgusting, Quinn was provided with the worst tools in existence. She'd gawked, brows furrowed at a brush scrubber that was falling to pieces, a sponge that seemed to melt upon touch, bleach that didn't do anything, and rubber gloves that were thin at the edges.
But she began to work on the grimy tiles, winced as stains refused to peel free, her collar bit at her throat making cleaning difficult. Everything was dirty, brown and sticking with mould, shit stains turning the porcelain a heavy black. There was none of the Omega scents that Mina had claimed, only the heavy smell of old faeces and urine. With a groan, she searched for Mina with a low sigh knowing that the woman already had her on high alert for all her questions.
"Hello, Maam?" she'd asked, and the lady gave her a wide beam, clipboard to her chest.
"Need something, Quinn? Another sponge?"
"I'm struggling to clean because my collar's a little tight," she explained, bent forward to provide an example. "Is it possible to get it loose?" There was a blink from her supervisor, and then a dart of her gaze to her board. "Just a little, so that I can look down."
"You're a Beta? With no abilities… I see," Mina whispered into a speaker and an Omegan soldier arrived through the elevator. The lift cranked loudly, noisy as it slid into place. He strode forward and seemed a little annoyed, a grunt on his lips. Quinn noted the fuzz of a shift, her teeth snagging on lip–a wolf.
"This is the girl?"
"She just wants to be able to look down," was Mina's explanation. The Omega sighed, a whisper of a spell on his breath, an incantation keyed to his magic. The clasp sprang free, and she shivered as air rushed over her skin. The Omega fiddled with the clasp, gloved hands clumsy as he locked the now expanded bits in place. Quinn's breath caught in her throat as the warmth of Float returned, the soft buzz of technology spinning in her mind.
"You'd better do a good job," he spat, snarky and annoyed. She resisted the urge to smile, felt bits of her technology singing through. He must not have done it right, had loosened far more than just the clasp. And for that her elation grew, her joy spreading through her veins.
"I will, sir," Quinn assured.
And she would because the moment she stepped into the bathroom, Float was singing through her fingertips whispering its greetings in solid blue glows. A wave of her hands and the technology was buzzing, hissing as it scanned the space for the best methods to get rid of the gunk.
And then options were provided by artificial intelligence, the larger bits of rot burnt away with a quick flick of her wrist. A purchase was made for the best toilet cleaner, and a wad of the heavy chemicals in the bowl had the stained limescale peeling off like butter to a hot knife. Her account was pretty full thanks to Solar's gold.
The space was sparkling, the bowls were as white as the day they were made when she was done. And for good measure, she had the brushes she used bent and seared as if she'd gone hard and heavy on the tiles. And Quinn grinned, finally seeing the light at the end of the fucking tunnel.
Later she was rewarded with five stamps, which she used to purchase a salt shaker that she shared with her team. Then given five stars for her work adding to her rank, and all had clambered into the bathrooms when she was done a look of awe on their faces.
There was no other explanation for her amazing skills except the utterly ruined brush, broken into bits in her hands.