"Doctor... you smell like an Omega."
Zane's fingers closed around my throat like a steel vise. The S-class war criminal's blood-red eyes burned with predatory hunger as he slammed me against the bulletproof glass, his grip crushing my windpipe with the casual ease of someone who'd killed hundreds.
I'm Shen An. Discharged military medic drowning in three million dollars of debt. Three minutes ago, I walked through the gates of Abyss Prison with forged Beta credentials. Now I'm about to die at the hands of humanity's most dangerous killer.
The metallic taste of terror flooded my mouth. Black spots exploded across my vision like dying stars. My lungs screamed for oxygen that would never come. Just as consciousness began its final retreat—
**BOOM!**
Golden fire erupted from the center of my chest. A lotus bloom of pure, devastating energy detonated through the corridor, its ethereal petals shattering Zane's violent crimson pheromones like they were made of glass. The temperature dropped twenty degrees in an instant.
Every alarm in the facility should have been screaming. Instead, an unnatural silence settled over the prison like a burial shroud.
Zane's grip vanished as if I'd become untouchable.
The monster—six feet of scarred muscle and calculated violence—dropped to his knees with a sound like thunder. Silver hair spilled across his shoulders like liquid mercury as he buried his face in my palm, his voice breaking into something I'd never heard from a killer:
"Master..."
The word echoed off concrete walls, impossible and terrifying.
I stared down at him, speechless, my mind struggling to process what had just happened.
Crimson text blazed across my vision like digital fire:
**[ABYSS LIVESTREAM: ACTIVATED]**
**[CURRENT VIEWERS: 127,439 AND CLIMBING]**
**[REVENUE STREAM: ACTIVE]**
*What the actual hell is happening to me?*
---
Guards poured into the corridor, weapons drawn, faces slack with disbelief. Zane—who'd murdered three prison doctors with his bare hands, who'd never shown submission to anyone, not even during his death sentence—knelt before me like I was some kind of deity descended from heaven.
I wasn't screaming. Wasn't fainting like any rational person would. My military training kicked in instead—assess, adapt, survive. I pulled out a sanitizing wipe from my medical kit and methodically cleaned my neck where his fingers had touched me.
*Heart rate: 140 BPM. Blood pressure spiking dangerously. This psychopath's hands are crawling with the bacteria of death itself.*
My expression remained arctic, clinical. The mask of professional detachment that had kept me alive through three tours in active war zones.
**[CHAT EXPLOSION]**
→ @BloodRose_666: HE'S SANITIZING?! AFTER ALMOST DYING?! I'M SCREAMING 💀💀💀
→ @ChaosQueen: THE DISRESPECT! THE AUDACITY! MARRY ME RIGHT NOW!
→ @ShadowLord donated 10,000 credits: "ICE COLD DOCTOR VS MURDER GOD - ICONIC"
→ @OmegaHunter: Those pheromones were off the charts! What IS he?!
→ @Anonymous_7749: This is better than any movie I've ever seen
"Stand up," I commanded, my voice carrying the authority I'd used to order field medics through artillery fire. "You're blocking the hallway."
Zane obeyed instantly, rising with fluid grace, those crimson eyes now burning with something that made my skin crawl—pure, terrifying worship. He stepped aside, creating a clear path, but his gaze never left my face.
The other inmates pressed against their cell bars, faces twisted with shock as they watched their apex predator submit to a stranger. The silence was deafening, broken only by the hum of ventilation systems and the distant sound of my own thundering heartbeat.
"Impossible," whispered Guard Marcus, his weapon trembling in his hands. "Zane's never knelt to anyone. Not even when they sentenced him to death."
"He tore apart the last three doctors they sent," added another guard, voice barely audible. "Used his bare hands. There wasn't enough left to identify."
I adjusted my glasses, mind racing through possibilities and threat assessments. Whatever had just happened, I needed to control the narrative before this situation spiraled into something that would get me killed.
The livestream chat continued scrolling past my peripheral vision, a constant reminder that privacy was now a luxury I couldn't afford.
---
Heavy, measured footsteps echoed down the corridor like a countdown to execution. Warden Adam materialized from the shadows like something out of a nightmare, his single monocle catching the harsh fluorescent light. Everything about him screamed apex predator—from his perfectly pressed uniform to the way he moved like death itself, each step calculated for maximum psychological impact.
"Dr. Shen," he purred, voice smooth as poisoned honey. "What a remarkable performance."
I kept my voice steady, falling back on professional competence. "Just doing my job, Warden."
"Your job?" His smile was razor-sharp, revealing teeth too white and too perfect. "Let me show you something fascinating."
He produced a sleek tablet from his coat, fingers dancing across the screen with practiced ease. Audio filled the corridor—the exact frequency and molecular composition of my pheromone burst, analyzed by equipment that shouldn't exist outside of classified government laboratories.
Ice water flooded my veins, freezing me from the inside out.
"These readings aren't Beta," Adam continued conversationally, like he was discussing the weather instead of my potential death sentence. "They're not even normal Omega classifications. The energy signature is... how should I put this... divine."
The word hung in the air like a guillotine blade, heavy with implications I didn't want to consider.
**[CHAT GOING NUCLEAR]**
→ @TruthSeeker_X: OH SHIT HE'S BEEN COMPLETELY EXPOSED
→ @OmegaLover: DIVINE PHEROMONES?! WHAT DOES THAT EVEN MEAN??
→ @DarkPrince donated 15,000 credits: "PLOT TWIST OF THE CENTURY!"
→ @ShadowWatcher: The warden knows way more than he's letting on
→ @BloodRose_666: This is getting INTENSE
→ @Anonymous_0001: Run. Just run. Get out while you still can.
"What do you want from me?" I asked, proud that my voice didn't shake despite the terror clawing at my throat.
"A simple choice, Doctor." Adam's monocle glinted like a predator's eye in the dark. "Stay here and help us manage our six most dangerous inmates using whatever methods you deem necessary, or I send this recording to the military research division. I'm quite certain they'd be fascinated to dissect whatever makes you so... extraordinarily special."
Six monsters. Six different ways to die horribly.
I thought of the loan sharks waiting outside my apartment, their threats escalating from broken bones to disappeared family members. The three million in debt that grew larger every day like a malignant tumor. The complete absence of options that had led me to this concrete hell in the first place.
At least here, death would be quick and clean.
"Show me the contract."
Adam's smile widened as he produced thick legal documents from his coat. The terms were elegantly simple and absolutely terrifying: remain in Abyss Prison as a specialized therapist, manage the six most dangerous inmates using any methods necessary, maintain absolute secrecy about my abilities and the true nature of my work.
Failure meant immediate termination—and not the employment kind. Success probably meant death too, just slower and more creative.
I signed without reading the fine print. What was the point? I was already dead; this was just choosing the method of execution.
"Excellent decision," Adam purred, collecting the contract with the satisfaction of a spider wrapping up a particularly juicy fly. "Oh, one small detail I should mention. Tomorrow morning at precisely 9 AM, Zane enters his heat cycle. You'll need to either sedate him through intimate physical contact or use your purification abilities to stabilize his condition."
My pen froze halfway to my pocket. "Excuse me?"
"Heat cycles in S-class criminals are... explosive events. Last time, he killed three guards and nearly breached containment. The cleanup took weeks, and the psychological trauma to surviving staff was extensive." Adam's smile was all teeth and malice. "But you seem to have quite the calming effect on him. I'm confident you'll find a solution."
He walked away, his footsteps echoing like a funeral march, leaving me alone with the horrifying implications.
*Intimate physical contact. With a serial killer who's currently staring at me like I hung the moon and stars just for him.*
Perfect. Absolutely fucking perfect.
---
My assigned quarters turned out to be a concrete box barely larger than a coffin—single bed with a mattress that had seen better decades, metal desk bolted to the wall, and a cracked mirror that reflected my growing desperation. The kind of place where hope came to die a slow, agonizing death.
The moment I removed my glasses, desperately hoping for relief from the constant stream of chat notifications, the crimson text appeared directly on my retinas like some kind of cybernetic implant I'd never consented to.
**[LIVESTREAM CONTINUES - VIEWERS: 891,247]**
**[REVENUE GENERATED: $47,329 AND CLIMBING]**
**[PREMIUM SUBSCRIBERS: 12,847]**
→ @NightHunter: CAREFUL! Someone's lurking behind your door!
→ @BloodRose_666: That figure in the hallway has a syringe!
→ @Anonymous_0001 donated 25,000 credits: "TRUST ABSOLUTELY NO ONE IN THAT PLACE"
→ @ChaosQueen: The nurse is definitely suspicious AF
→ @ShadowWatcher: This is giving me serious horror movie vibes
I spun around, adrenaline spiking. Through the narrow crack in my door, a single eye stared back at me—cold, calculating, filled with malicious intent that made my blood run cold. In the dim hallway light, I caught the unmistakable glint of metal. A syringe, poised and ready to deliver God knows what kind of poison into my bloodstream.
The eye vanished like it had never been there. Soft footsteps retreated into the darkness, the sound of someone who knew exactly how to kill quietly and efficiently.
I locked the door, checked the windows for potential escape routes, and sat on the edge of the bed. My hands were steady—military training never really left you—but my mind was racing through threat assessments and survival strategies.
*Six monsters waiting to meet me. A livestream I can't control broadcasting my every move. A warden who knows all my secrets. And now someone with a syringe stalking me through the darkness.*
Tomorrow, I'd have to face Zane's heat cycle and whatever that entailed. Tonight, I had to survive whatever was hunting me in the shadows of this concrete nightmare.
I stared at my reflection in the cracked mirror. Still the same face—sharp cheekbones carved by stress, tired eyes that had seen too much death, the kind of clinical detachment that had kept me functional through war zones and field hospitals. But now there was something else lurking behind my gaze. Something that made S-class killers kneel in worship and mysterious viewers donate thousands of dollars to watch my every breath.
*What the hell am I becoming? And more importantly, will I survive long enough to find out?*
The chat continued scrolling past my vision like digital rain, a constant reminder that privacy was now a luxury I could never afford again:
→ @ShadowWatcher: They're definitely coming back
→ @BloodRose_666: Check the air vents! They always use the vents!
→ @ChaosQueen: Kiss the murder god tomorrow, you coward!
→ @DarkPrince: Plot twist incoming - the nurse is one of the six monsters
→ @OmegaLover: His pheromones are going to drive them all insane
I turned off the lights and settled into darkness, listening for footsteps that might never come, preparing for a tomorrow that would probably be my last.
Outside my barred window, Abyss Prison hummed with the sound of contained nightmares. Somewhere in the depths of this concrete hell, five more monsters waited to meet their new doctor.
And I had absolutely no idea which one wanted me dead first.