The Omega Asylum loomed over Beverley as she drove up the hill. It was ghastly in appearance, a castle that seemed to be built in the medieval times of alpha knights and young omega royalty. Yet here it is, in the 21st century, built for omegas who are deemed too unfit because they’ve not “tied the knot” yet. Thinking of these rules usually causes her to want to smash random objects lying around and then later kick some alphas in the balls. But, it was not the Alpha’s fault that most of the restrictions society put on Omegas were for good reasons. That’s why there are the rules. Rules that constrict an omega’s path of either being mated and having a life or being rejected and completely resigned by the government from ever living.
Omegas deserve better than being held down by their biology.
Will deserves better than this.
Heck, she deserves better than this. If it weren’t for Joe, bless his soul, she would be stuck here with Will; Completely void of human contact and love, having to live day by day in a small tiny room with limited sunlight coming out of a window Beverley could barely fit her hand through. One hour recreation that only gave the opportunity for the omegas to cuddle and play with children’s toys. Three liquids meals a day that consist of the necessary nutrients, bottle fed to them by Betas barely making through with their monthly paychecks. Omegas do like sucking on things, but it hardly constitutes having all meals liquified.
Beverly parked right near the entrance and walked in, checking in on the front desk for her weekly talks with Will. Wednesdays were the only times that omegas at the asylum where allowed to talk to outside friends and family members, and considering omegas were taken from their home at the age of 5 for the academy there was hardly anyone here on those days. Well, except for her.
She was led to the rec room of the asylum, a dreary open spaced gray area adorned with games and crayons for coloring. No books of course- only mated omegas are allowed the privilege of an education. The rest of the omegas weren’t here due to the psychological fact that unmated omegas are dangerous towards unknown people, including her, an omega.
Beverley spotted Will sitting in the corner of the room while looking out the window, scrunched up with his head resting on his elbows. She headed towards him.
“Hey,” Beverley said, taking a seat right in front of Will, who didn’t acknowledge Bev’s presence. Will looked more tired today than usual, must be those nightmares his caretakers have told her about. “How are you?” she asks. Will continues to ignore her, making Beverley huff in annoyance.
She reached into her bag and brought out a Snickers. “I know I promised to bring you some of those Twizzlers, but they ran out so I brought you these.” She pushed the candy towards Will, though he still wouldn’t acknowledge her.
It was like this most days with Will. He was hardly the person Bev grew up with at the academy. No, that shy, stubborn, devil of a boy was practically dead the second the “incident” happened. Now he was despondent on most days, and other days responding only with a couple of words. She gained a heavyweight in her chest whenever she saw him like this, wishing she could help him, to get up and shake his shoulders, ask him where the real Will was. Because this Will, the one that she visited every week, was not the Will she had been friends with.
But sometimes there were glimpses of past Will. A roll of eyes here, a smile there. That was enough to bring Beverley back to Will all these years. Hope can be a bitch though.
Will, after 5 minutes of Bev warily staring at him staring at the window, took the snickers bar and opened it, nibbling on the edges.
“Thank you Bev.” Will said with his gravely voice rough with disuse. “Any new cases?
Beverley bit her lip as she went to take out the case file. She knew what she was doing was hardly legal, but it saved lives and it gave purpose to Will’s life- something to work intellectually with. Bev noticed that in this asylum there are limited ways to exercise the brain, and like hell she was going to let Will become even more of a brainless zombie.
She spread out the file all over the table, showing pictures of dug up decomposed corpses caked with mud connected to IV bags. He glanced at the case file for a second then took to himself to analysis the pictures. Beverley smiled internally at the way Will completely disregarded the FBI’s notes- he probably thinks they’re benal anyways.
“IV Bags? Where they still alive when they were found?” Will asked. He moved the pictures around the table, trying to put them in a consecutive order that made sense to him. It was amazing seeing Will work like this, Bev thought. Truly art in of itself.
“Only one of the victims was alive, but he died the trip to the hospital.” Beverley explained. Will hummed in response.
“Yes, makes sense, he buries them alive yet comatose with a sedative, then pumps their veins with a type of…” Will’s face scrunched up questionably. Looking up at Bev’s shoulders-- trying to avoid eye contact-- he asks,“Plant feed? Starch?”
“Close, it’s a type of starch compound that is used as a fertilizer for mushrooms and fungi. This guy seems to really like gardening… with humans. But still, gardening.”
Will nods and looks back at the papers. “No… not gardening” Will mumbles to himself. He then looked up at Beverley “I need some alone time, could you go to the vending machine and get me some water?”
“The victims were diabetic.”
Jack Crawford crossed his arms and sighed. “What does that have to do with anything exactly, Ω. Katz?”
“With a slight change in medication a diabetic can become comatose.” Hannibal explained cooly, standing next to Jack by the corpses. They were in the forensic unit of the FBI, asking for Beverley’s analysis over the human remains. Hannibal--there as the consultant after Ms. Bloom introduced him to Mr. Crawford--and Jack were both alphas yet, un-stereotypically, worked very well together.
Jack looked at Hannibal and Beverley with raised eyebrows. “Then the murderer must have some sort of control over the diabetics’ medicine.” Jack concluded. Hannibal nodded in agreement with Jack yet internally scoffed at the simpleness of how these murders were partaken. Not even a single finger lifted… how dreary. While he loved the final outcome of his art, he prefered the process of obtaining it even more. The adrenaline rush. The power the blood pounding through his Alpha veins as he chased his prey. The final orgasmic quality of seeing someone’s life diminish from their eyes slowly but surely. The pleas for mercy, the complete dominance and utter control…
Hannibal carefully adjusted his pants and tuned back in to what was happening.
“Yep. The pharmacist/doctor changes the victim’s medication, induces the coma, gives them sugar water to keep them alive for fertilization and then bam, instant mushroom garden.” Beverley said. Hannibal had been slightly impressed by Beverley’s skills when he first started consulting the FBI, partly because it was quite rare to find an omega to have a job in forensics, much less working with the FBI. Her confidence and snarky attitude just screamed alpha, though the sickly sweet scent of mated omega told otherwise.
It took him a while to realize that Ω. Katz was not at all behind these deductions- which was a feat in of itself; he usually could see past lies and deceptions more often than not. Though, it didn't take much searching through that head of hers to realize that she lacked the certain… empathy one needed to truly deduce the reasoning behind these murderers. A type of tick that screamed mental disorder yet brilliance, which Ω. Katz lacked either way.
Jack nodded at Ω. Katz’s conclusion while looking at the bodies and the grotesque images that they projected. “Very well, I’ll have officers interview all pharmacists and doctors in the dig site. Meanwhile,” Jack turned to look expectantly at Ω. Katz, “You keep me updated if you deduce anything from the bodies. We need to know where the next dig site might be if we’re too late.”
Beverly nodded, biting her lip, and walked quickly back to her office.
Jack grabbed his jacket and started to head out when Hannibal stopped him.
“Jack, I’m worried the past few days have been very stressful for you.” Hannibal said, trying to exclude an aura of concern.
“Daily life of an FBI agent, Doctor, nothing you can do about it. Nothing I want to do about it,” Jack smiled thinly. “Stress gets work done here, Dr. Lecter. It’s worth it when we get to save people’s lives.”
Hannibal schooled his features into a kind smile. “I was just wondering if you might have time for dinner this weekend with your lovely wife? An escape from the stress of everyday life is quite healthy, Alpha Crawford.”
It was two days after they found the murderer when Beverly took her husband’s jeep to go see Will again. The road surrounded by the remote forests of Pennsylvania accompanied Bev throughout her journey, along with a glossy black car in the distance containing a predator unforeseen.