Wishbone is also very poor today [Comprehensive British and American]

Bullock looked at Clint's back and shook his head. This new transfer student looks useless.

"People from the Combat Department have assembled and are waiting for you to go." Rollins looked away from the personal terminal and wrinkled his nose. "Can you cover your smell?"

Bullock shrugged indifferently, grabbed the pheromone deodorant in the closet, sprayed himself from head to toe, put on his training uniform that had never changed for thousands of years, and went straight to the conference room.

"Why are you here so late?" A blond woman leaned lazily on a chair with her legs crossed, her scarlet nails tapping on the communicator intermittently.

The meeting room is medium in size, without windows, and the cold light of incandescent lamps makes everyone feel gloomy.

There are about forty people sitting around the round conference table, and they are seated in the order of the points. The two seats facing the huge LCD screen in the conference room are empty.

"I studied the mission," Brock looked around, and took a seat in the middle seat, while Rollins sat next to him, and he knocked on the table: "Since we're all here, let's get started."

He clicked on the tablet in front of him, projected the contents of his tablet on the large light blue screen, and introduced: "There are three teams that are initially scheduled to participate in the competition, and the main members of each team are the combat department, the investigation department, and the alien department. capable."

The team logos of the three teams lit up on the screen. The scout team was a big-faced cat with so much meat on its face that its eyes were squeezed into two slits. The ability team was a delicate strawberry, bright green There are a few drops of water hanging on the leaves.

As for their combat department, it is a ten-cent coin with President Roosevelt's portrait on it so fucking lifelike.

"What the hell team badge is this?" Clint couldn't help muttering.

Rollins stopped him dissatisfied: "Shut up, rookie, and listen to the captain."

Rollins himself was also very dissatisfied with the broken team badge randomly drawn by the academy, although he felt that this team badge was quite in line with their captain's style of acknowledging money and not recognizing people.

but!Experience tells him that in the face of such a big event, there must be a leader, and the leader's control and majesty largely determine the team's cohesion and operational efficiency.

In other words, it determines their points and determines whether they can graduate smoothly.

The fact that made Rollins feel cold was that, in a majestic combat department, the bloody Alphas refused to obey anyone, but they were beaten up by Brock one by one, so they could only succumb to his lust.

Clint shut his mouth in resentment, and stared at Rollins with a puffy face, as if Rollins was a sycophant.

Bullock glanced at the two of them lightly, and after they calmed down, he continued: "Ten students from the Combat Department were injured due to school fights and missions outside. Our team consists of the remaining 37 members of the Combat Department, one student from the Red House, and two It is composed of a shadow hunter from the magic department and a student from the logistics department."

The magic department, red house and logistics department are too few to form a team. On the other hand, it is also due to the special nature of these departments:

The magic department has made a lot of money selling spells and potions. A mission in the red house usually takes a year and a half to finish. The logistics department directly takes over a large part of the school's daily operations.

Therefore, these three departments are not short of points, and the competition is not very attractive to them.

But the Academy allows them to join other teams as individuals, earning points.

Bullock retrieved the information of the four foreign aids: "Yelena from the Red House, Alexander and Isabella from the Magic Department, and Sage from the Logistics Department."

Bullock and Yelena are old acquaintances. When Bullock was still in the red house, Yelena always regarded him as the biggest competitor and confronted each other.This tall, blond and beautiful woman has the demeanor of a generation of black widows. I heard that the Red House has decided to award her the title of the second generation of black widows when she graduates.

Alexander and Isabella are a pair of brothers and sisters, from the mysterious lineage of shadow hunters. Compared with other classmates who An Anxin stayed in the house to do experiments and memorize magic books, the two of them have rich practical experience in hunting demons.

Sage is a mutant with the ability to quickly process information and a top hacker.

Bullock briefly introduced the experiences and abilities of the four, and gave them a period of time to get familiar with each other.

Immediately afterwards, intelligence expert Yelena introduced the captains of the other two teams and their outstanding members, and analyzed the pros and cons of the enemy and the enemy in detail. Amidst the chaotic discussions, the first tactical meeting came to an end.

Brock knocked on the table to signal for everyone to be quiet, and he said in an unquestionable tone: "I have already indicated which difficult tasks you are suitable for according to your strength. The sage will calculate based on my judgment. The task combination of each of you, with the minimum investment to get the most medal points."

Not only has Clint not been beaten by Brock, but he has also seen the captain who is very gentle in front of money, not to mention the seductive smell of Omega pheromones that still reverberates in his nasal cavity. The pride and aggressiveness of being an Alpha made him Doomed to be dissatisfied.

So he interrupted loudly: "Got it! Hurry up, I haven't had breakfast yet~"

Brock's cold eyes swept across Clint, not concealing his desperado temperament in the same strain as Gotham. Blowing a gun out of the idiot's head wouldn't surprise anyone.

"The mission briefing will be sent to your personal terminals before twelve noon today, and I hope you will accept it immediately."

He stood up and swept across the conference room condescendingly, like a lion patrolling his territory, majestic and majestic.

Brock turned his head, grinned and smiled at Clint: "As for you, come to the training ground to find me after dinner."

Clint had the guts to say whether he was big or small, so he stuck his neck and asked, "What are you going to do?"

The corners of Brock's mouth widened, and the upper and lower rows of teeth were exposed, like a hungry man-eating shark in a horror movie, with shredded meat stuffed between his teeth. He spoke in a calm and creepy tone. Said: "If you don't test your strength, how can I assign tasks to you?"

Rollins couldn't help trembling all over, silently crossing Clint on his chest.

Brother, I hope you are still able to participate in the competition with all four limbs.

Clint followed Bullock to the training ground with apprehension and anticipation, and put on a heroic martyr face: "Come on!"

Brock looked at people with his nostrils: "Where is your bow? An archer?"

Clint snorted, stuck in place like a silly mallet, and said, "No need, I'm good at melee combat too."

Then in the next second, he was knocked to the ground by a punch in the middle of the door. Clint touched his nose, dazed: "You haven't said start yet..."

Brock held Clint by the collar and picked him up from the ground with one hand. A dagger that was pulled out at some point pressed firmly against his neck, and a few round drops of blood oozed out.

The long-range archer who was approached by the warrior wanted to cry but had no tears.

Brock stared into Clint's eyes, and his deep voice had a gritty texture: "Put away your Alpha arrogance for me, and get out if you don't want to participate."

Brock's knife slid down the skin to the archer's fingers, causing a shudder. Clint remembered Brock's bad deeds in the past, and couldn't help breathing quickly, wanting to struggle but not daring to struggle: "You... "

"If you want to stay, just be obedient. I'll point you east and you don't go west. Otherwise, just stay with me with your fingers."

Brock accepted it as soon as he saw it, and after inserting the knife back into his waist, he condescended to wipe Clint's nosebleed from the beating.

"Now," Bullock took out a bow and arrow from the weapon rack and handed it to Bullock, "let me see your skills."

Clint took the bow subconsciously, and returned with the weapon full of confidence. He set the bow and arrow, and the sharp tip of the arrow pierced the air, making a rustling sound.

10 minute later.

Clint lay crying beside the bathroom mirror on the training ground, sad to find that his handsome face had swollen to the size of two others.

"Hiss~ It hurts, it hurts." He lightly pressed the bridge of his nose, and took an exaggerated breath.

"That Omega is too ruthless! How can he bear the heart when I'm so handsome?"

Bullock appeared at the door hauntingly: "I've shown mercy."

Clint:QAQ

I saw the corner of the demon's mouth hooked crookedly, which made Clint tremble all over in fright.

"You will be my deputy team in this match."

Clint: "Huh?"

Then he nodded obediently.

Rollins was dying drunk on Bullock's pheromones.

This is not a rhetorical device, but a fact.

It was a smell of rum, spicy, warm, it should have a knife-like feeling in the throat, and it also had a sharp taste of metal, but it was mixed with a hint of sweetness, and there was an indescribable ambiguous banter.

This should be the pheromone that Alphas envy the most. It can teach Omega to smell so hard that it can't close its legs. It just wants to be pressed hard on the bed. The body is left to you to dominate, and the soul is swinging high in the Garden of Eden.

But when Rollins got close enough to breathe the heat of Brock's skin, everything changed.

It is the blend of patchouli and white flowers, subtly fermented by alcohol, full of primitive lust and the heaviness of the earth, just want people to plow into this strong and firm body.

Rollins can only feel the attraction of Bullock as an Omega when he is in the smell of Bullock's rut.

Brock came out of the bathroom, the water droplets on his hair rolled along the texture of his muscles, fell into the mermaid line on his waist, and were gently absorbed by the white towel around his lower body.

Rollins looked up at him: "Brock."

He walked in, looked down at Rollins, his body was scorched by the heat of the estrus, dizzy, and said impatiently, "I'm going out on a mission tomorrow," Rollins felt the pain in his body. He rushed towards himself with gnashing teeth and claws, "I can't just go like this, I need the neutralization of Alpha pheromone, so I can get through the hot period as soon as possible."

Omega's estrus period is very long, but during that week-long estrus period, there is only a short one to two days of climax period, which is fatal to a trained omega like Bullock.

As long as he survives this day, or if he is neutralized by Alpha pheromone, his physical fitness can be restored to 80.00% of the peak period.

Rollins was about to cry, but he said in a jerk, "Then can't I give you a temporary mark?"

Bullock pulls off the towel and throws it on the floor.

"The mission requires that I have no marks on my body, I need you."

Rollins looked at Bullock, his golden brown eyes were hidden in the shadow cast by the high browbones, his figure was as cold and perfect as a statue of David, with a cold and hard appearance and a sensual taste It's a fascinating contradiction.

Rollins knew he would compromise.

But that doesn't mean he's going to shut up and give in, especially after Brock squeezes lube into his hands and turns him violently around his neck.

"I'm an Alpha, you're an Omega, can't we go through the estrus in a normal way?"

Rollins felt that he was the most wronged Alpha in the world.

Feeling the movement of Bullock's fingers, Rollins suppressed the groan overflowing from his mouth, bit his lower lip: "Can you stop using me as an Omega?"

Brock covered Rollins' mouth roughly, without any pity: "It's true that I need Alpha pheromone, but what method to use is my business. If you don't want to, I will go find Deadpool."

Sensing waves of tiny electric currents rushing through his body, Rollins closed his eyes resignedly, and relaxed his muscles obediently.

"Brock, you're such a pervert."

"Shut up, annoying."