It was a bad idea, the Administrator thought looking at the notice that the High Table intended to send out to all of its employees. It was an extremely bad fucking idea and also incredibly unfair.
But then again, when had the High Table ever been fair, the small man thought sourly.
As of next Tuesday every single person who possessed accommodations under the organization's housing system, including the Administrator himself, was required to share said accommodations with somebody appointed by the council. It was a necessary evil the memo informed: a severe shortage in available apartments, coupled with an increase of those working under the High Table's command, had necessitated it.
To try to soften any inconveniences, the High Table had expressed, in plain out terms, no fine print or magnifying glasses needed, that all employees paired would be strictly of matching types; in other words Alphas would only be sent to live with Alphas while Omegas would only cohabit with Omegas.
All files held in the computer system clearly labelled what all employees were; they would be carefully cross referenced and then matched accordingly. The Administrator knew that he may be called upon several times to impress on any worried citizens that the files were completely accurate. The bureaucrat knew that in most cases they were: he had taken care of the majority of them himself especially when they had acquired the new computer system and the data needed to be transfered there.
Looking at the notice that, not only, his department was ordered to send by text and mail, but that he had to approve also, the Administrator still felt like murdering all the twelve who sat at the table.
Sure it sounded like a great plan on paper; there was nothing threatening about it not with the necessary precautions taking place.
For anybody else the whole situation wouldn't be a problem, only an extreme annoyance if you had no desire to share space, the bureaucrat thought as he ran a tattooed hand through his perfectly arranged hair.
There was a very large dilemma for one person, however, the Administrator knew, the information contained in their file being erroneous. The reason that he knew this was because he had falsified the file himself.
It had been his own.
Contrary to what he had claimed, the Administrator was an Omega.
And the prospect of having to live with an Alpha not only irritated him...it damn well terrified him.
* * *
John Wick looked at the text he had just been sent on his brand new phone and didn't know if he was relieved or perturbed.
It appeared he had been approved for an apartment under the High Table's ruling but it also now stated that he would be forced into sharing the space with another High Table servant.
John sighed and shoved his phone back into his pocket, wondering where exactly his life had gone horribly wrong.
He did not need to think about it for too long. It had been Helen's death which had started it. There was absolutely no question about that.
From the moment the Doctor had told them of her condition, to the moment he had kissed his wife that final time in the hospital, John had found himself flung back into the hell he had foolishly believed he had once escaped.
Daisy, the sweet beagle that Helen had given to him to help the healing process, had been viciously killed by Iosef Tarasov and eventually Wick's mission of revenge had lead him straight back into the High Table's waiting arms.
First he had suffered the destruction of his house by Santino D'Antonio, been shot and forced off of the Continental Hotel's roof, struck an uneasy alliance with the Bowery King and then once more received absolution from the Elder. The desert nomad had decided it was in the High Table's best interest to reinstate the assassin; any man who could face constant onslaught and still manage to survive was surely worth more living as an ally than as an enemy.
John Wick remembered Winston's words in the glass room in the same hotel his forner friend managed:
The gentleman had claimed that Helen wouldn't want him to return to the world of the High Table and become a killer again.
That, of course, had been before the Englishman had betrayed him in order to save his own skin.
Winston's words had seemed less convincing after that.
So he had sold his soul to the High Table one last time but had found himself without a home and not willing to stay at the Continental with his Judas. That was definitely not an option. In a desperate move, Wick had submitted a request for housing to the organization that controlled him and one had been granted.
But every silver lining had a cloud and this one turned out to be the fact that he would have to share it with a stranger. At least he hoped it was a stranger. The prospect of living with Cassian was frightening after the severed aorta, and bad blood that almost had run out of it, between them.
John Wick was dreading the reality of having a roommate. He was a lone wolf by nature; had always been. Only Helen had been able to breach the distance he liked to keep between himself and the rest humanity.
She had been his perfect mate, though. His wonderful Omega.
There had never been one since. There never would be.
That was one thing he need not worry about, John Wick consoled his unease: the notice expressly stated it was to be only Alpha with Alpha living situations. While there would be fights and pissing contests there would be no chance of sexual or romantic complications.
And that was absolutely fine with the mourning Alpha John Wick.
* * *
"Adam," the voice said on the other end of the line and the Administrator knew from the reserved English accent and condescending tone that it was his father.
"Hello Dad," Adam said flatly. "I told you not to call me at work. I don't like it. Hardly professional. You'll make me look bad."
"I got the memo," the older man said and his son thought he detected fear at the edges of his usually calm voice. "Now will you come back and stay at the Continental? I am imploring you!"
Adam frowned. He should have known his father would be panicking at the memo even more than he had; Winston lived in fear that it would be discovered his only known spawn was an Omega.
The pierced man flashbacked to a childhood filled with shame and constant pretending. It had started then with Winston's constant worries of disgrace. Adam remembered the man instructing him on how to carry his stuff toy around with him and growl at anyone who came near it like he was an Alpha. Of course when he had been alone, the boy, whom had become the Administrator, had found himself cuddling and caring for the toy in the most Omega way imaginable.
Leave it to dear old dad to use the situation to try to lure his embarrassment of a son back under his watchful control, the bureaucrat thought and rolled his eyes. It wasn't going to happen. He was never returning to the Continental and its manager. The first chance he'd gotten, Adam had squirmed out from his father's thumb and found his own place to live.
Or rather his employees had found it for him. That was why he was now in this mess.
"I'm not coming back," the Administrator informed.
"But your condition," Winston reminded his son of something he could not ever forget.
"Yes," Adam sighed. "And I will deal with it as I always have."
There was a pause on the other end and then a defeated sigh. "At least tell me that you're still on the pill."
Having taken it just that morning, the pencil pusher was sure that he was and told his father this.
"And the wash? What about the pads? I can have Charon bring..."
"I have everything I need," the Administrator snapped.
"I don't like it," the Continental's manager hissed. "You living with an Alpha! After this whole time we've done so well to hide what you are. If anybody found out...can you imagine the shame?"
Thinking of the years of having to hide his true nature, the Administrator felt a sudden heaviness on his shoulders and tried to fight tears he felt close to entering his eyes. This sensitivity, another Omega trait, was a burden as well; he was far too emotional to be an Alpha. The man in the glasses gave his nose ring a painful tug to distract himself and tried to carry on the conversation with his father, at least long enough to end it.
"I will continue to hide it, I assure you," Adam stated. "You have nothing to worry about. Now goodbye!"
He slammed the phone down.
Knowing he was alone, and suddenly no longer caring, Adam broke into tears. He grabbed a Kleenex from where he kept the box hidden for cases just like this.
What was suddenly bothering him was the fact that Winston, his own father, had been more worried about his image than the fact that his son ran the risk of being raped in the safety of his own apartment. When Omegas were in heat going out was hazardous business; having an unmated Alpha behind locked doors alone with one was beyond dangerous. Still it hadn't even occurred to the man that had fathered him.
"Serves him right if I get pregnant and make him a grandfather," the Administrator cried and grabbed another tissue, blowing his nose into it.
For years after breaking free from his dad, Adam had safely kept his Omega nature successfully hidden; he had gotten hold of the needed items, even buying Alpha scents off of eBay to spray all over himself to hide his pheromones.
Once he had risen to the position of Administrator, he had even fired any female Alpha operators to make things easier and escape detection.
He had done it all, Adam thought sadly, in some way not only to protect himself but to also please his father. Yet Winston remained as unsatisfied as ever.
Unsatisfied and uncaring.
With all the bad news the day had brought, the Administrator wanted nothing more than to go to his apartment, create a little nest and just try to find some kind of comfort, no matter how small.
With a roommate soon to be appointed to him, Adam doubted he would be able to find much of that in the future.