Officially, it was assumed Killer was a beta.

By 16, he still smelled exactly the same as at 14 and hadn't seemed to present any postpubescent gender markers. So their little pack had put it out of mind. He was almost 18 now after all, and not much had changed on that front.

Unofficially, there was an undercurrent of whispers that he still might be an alpha - he was named Killer for good reason and unapologetically defended their territory, and Kidd, with a violence-first mentality that left outsiders on edge, and would have put him in a world of trouble had they not already lived in the dredges of society. He was grumbling, snarly, and short tempered. He got weirdly standoffish and confrontational during pack heats. He tolerated no alphas at all, even the ones on suppressants, to the point he'd got in the face of a shopkeeper who'd been watching Kidd in case he got sticky fingers - which he did - and nearly gotten them both arrested. Killer'd all but been banned from entering the city's inner walls before even Papas had joined.

The outer city's more shady Night Markets used to let him in, except these days it meant passing through the territory of Pack Punk, who'd had a beta who once mocked the way Killer laughed, to which Killer had tried to murder him right there in the street. The pack's leader had broken the fight up, but to this day, the two both operated on a 'maim on sight' mentality. It was at least a step down from the 'kill on sight' that had escalated to the rival omega's face being carved up, and Killer's arm being burned nearly off. Kidd had to get involved at one point, and everyone had taken a collective step back after that.

Confrontational personality aside, that didn't even broach the sour smell to him that was a par for par match for his general unpleasant mood - scent markers far too strong for a beta no matter which way it was looked at. No one could remember him matching Kidd's pup smell, but what exactly the sour was was hotly debated fairly regularly after the two youngest ones had fallen asleep. There was a certain sick under note to it that made them all uneasy, but it wasn't like doctors were all that readily available to packs like theirs. And while Killer certainly wasn't always well, he didn't look like he was going to drop dead either. Besides, Kidd's pup smell seemed to neutralize it in their living spaces pretty well, and they all learned to avoid rubbing up on him too much to keep it from clinging to them too.

And so, for the most part, the crew - a loosely formed pack of mostly unbound omegas and two other betas - let it be. Even if he hadn't presented, Killer was a reliable member of their group and even if on the younger side, they turned to him as pack leader more often then not. And Kidd too - but no one wanted to admit that a feral 13 year old was co-leader of their little family.

Regardless, where Killer went, so did Kidd - the two living out of the other's pockets since time in memoriam. The rest of them had gravitated to them over the years - none of them had packs of their own anymore, either rejected for being found lacking or fleeing from unhappy families.

The only exception had been the first omega adopted in - Papas - who the boys stumbled across themselves as little more than children, by some mix of gut instinct and accident. The smell of distress and heat had been a strange sirens call of it's own, drawing the young duo in to find him crying for help even in the throes of his heat, being forced into a bond by an unknown pushy alpha. A barely 13 year old Killer stopped that in the act, an alpha too engrossed in Papas to watch his own back, and found a knife sunk in it a couple dozen times for his audacity. Kidd had crawled into Papas' ruined and trespassed nest - little more than nine at the time - and the smell of pup had soothed over the worse of things until Papas was clear headed again enough to be moved somewhere safer. Killer had stalked the area, oozing malice and the promise of death, puffed up and growling as they went, escorted Papas to their own little pup nest for the end of his heat. 

Papas was the only one they'd sought out, but even as the oldest for those short few months, he'd never been leader. That was always the boys. Papas didn't remember much from those first months, his own head messed up and afraid. But there had never not been a moment where he didn't feel like he was pack, right from the start; Killer might have been 3 years his junior, but he'd taken Papas into their nest and defended him with the same furiosity he defended Kidd.

Other omega would join over time, unbonded and rejected, like Compo and UK, drifting aimlessly until the current brought them to the pack. The two had both been the most reluctant to join; Compo a full decade older then Kidd and four years older then Papas, the senior omega of their little pack up until then. But that also meant they had a bit more understanding of how the world worked outside of Kidd & Killer's trash pile territory, and the guidance was begrudgingly needed. Papas might have set they cycle, Killer might patrol their territory, Kidd might make the rules, but Compo was the de-facto parent, something that stood in place even now. On the otherside, UK was one of the last to join, a bitter and despondent 16 year old, marked up by his own hands after being rejected once again a bond even after sharing his nest with his alpha partner for years. He'd been collected by Killer the afternoon before the boy's birthday 15th birthday, Killer jokingly calling him his favourite birthday present to try and make UK feel more welcome, and eventually, UK understood that Killer meant it.

Hip had her partner Hop - who was a beta, their bond symbolic but no less important to both girls - and the two had been kicked out of each of their family packs because they'd refused to denounce the other. Having no beta minders at the time, the growing Pack Eustass was delighted to have the both of them, and were more than happy to let the two have as much space as they wanted or needed, even if they rarely took advantage of such premium space and nested down with the rest of the pack.

Bubblegum was actually bonded to an alpha - but he'd long since lost love for his partner, and it was bad enough with the alpha that he'd eventually walked out first chance he got. He'd end up following Killer back from the market one day after the younger teen stepped between him and his alpha. The alpha had tracked Bubblegum down and tried to publicly humiliate him into coming 'home' in front of the large gathering crowd. After the omega had repeatedly tried to escape the alpha and the growing crowd, Killer had drawn a knife on the overbearing alpha and threatened to gut them back until they backed of. Killer proclaimed Bubblegum was his pack now, and the alpha had no claim, regardless of any bites left on the omega.

And then there was Quincy- a free spirit who rather liked being an omega, but didn't want to be bond to any one alpha, any one family, any one space. She flitted in and out of their lives on a whim, coming and going with a shower of kisses, and every time she went to wander off, Killer assured her that they were always her pack when she was ready to come back.

Ska was the final beta of their little family- he'd been charmed by Kidd in the market one day and followed him home. Said he didn't have anywhere else to be. Killer had been the most wary of him - what grown man followed a child home? Killer knew too well what kind of man - but he was really just that mellow and never gave Killer any reason to run him off. He was a huge help during heats too, giving Hop a chance to spend more of it with Hip and playing nursemaid himself while Kidd got his cuddles in and Killer patrolled the parameter on edge and in a generally standoffish mood.

For the last five years or so, Kidd and Killer collected their people. A pack of six omegas, possibly three betas, and a pup running wild and feral on the outskirts of the city, laying claim to the battered lighthouse on the shore, and all the waste that washed up along side it. Kidd had an eye for finding treasures amongst the trash; scavenging, cleaning and fixing each thing as he went until one would never guess the condition it had been salvaged from.

Ska and Compo were the most skilled at slipping though the other pack territories to the Night Market to pawn off each treasure, earning them a fair amount of coin and any shortfalls were pilfered and raided easily enough to keep the pack living comfortably, even in squalor. Their nest was never lacking for indulgences, even if it did mean six different omegas having to bicker over how things should be arranged and smell and the weeks leading up to heats where a contestant passive aggressive fight on the arrangements.

And if their youngest beta ends up being an alpha too stuck in fight or flight to present properly, well, they'd deal with that when the time came too. Last year, Bubblegum had already volunteered to be Killer's first rut partner - going as far as to tell a horrified Killer to his face one drunken night that he'd be okay if they bonded too. In an attempt to distract everyone from Killer's growing mortification, Quincy had reminded Bubblegum that he couldn't be bonded to two alphas.

"Watch me," Bubblegum had doubled down, drawing a red faced Killer into his lap and clung to him possessively, giggling at Killer's attempt at a rumbling growl back at him, "Imma gonna have so many bond bites from this man, my first alpha's not even gonna be able to /find/ their stupid mark."

And that how things went. Survival was the name of the game in the Heaps, and that what they did - survive. They got lucky enough to fall in with an uneasy understanding with one of the larger packs nearby - one without an alpha to rile Killer up - a dozen strong of omegas and betas in even numbers. The pack leaders were a tall tall tall beta named Wire, and his omega partner Hearth, named for his tenancy to light things - and people - on fire and stand over the flames until there nothing but ashes left.

Hearth and Killer had not gotten on well in the beginning, both would bear the scars of the other for the rest of their lives, and it was one of Hearth's more recent heats that had them laying down arms as it were. They'd been just about at war at that point, both Hearth and Killer gunning for the other's head. Killer had gotten the jump on the omega and while the two tried to murder each other, Killer had staggered back, hand over his noise, hackles raised.

"You smell awful," he had complained, making a face like he was going to retch. Killer'd actually clawed at his own tongue, like that would make any difference. Hearth - skin crawling and senses overwhelmed - had snarled back, "You're not much better [nsult]"

Actually, Killer's scent had gone ripe too, a sour unhappy cloy. That was Hearth first inclination, that nagging feeling Killer wasn't a beta after all; Wire was a beta, half his crew were betas, and they'd never smelled so strongly of any emotion. He'd been ready for that night to end horrifically at that: ambushed outside his own nest by a rival alpha. Hearth's two options were to hope Wire hurried along and stopped this from getting bloody, or murder the boy and hope his pack didn't retaliate.

An inconceivable third option presented itself when Killer put his blade away, face still twisted as Hearth's smell apparently the worst thing imaginable to him. Hearth was a little offended. "Where's your stupid pack..." Killer had grumbled, growling under his breath, staggering away from what he was realizing was Hearth's nest and starting to stalk back and forth a few yards from the entrance.

After a moment, Hearth sat at the edge and watch him. Killer had snarled at him once, but went back to agitated pacing. There was no way he was a beta, Hearth concluded, wincing as he watched the blond start to pick and claw at his arm as he paced, excess energy needing to go somewhere. Hearth couldn't help but be a little satisfied that Killer was mauling the arm Hearth himself had tried to burn off him in one of their more infamous encounters.

"You're bleeding," Hearth offered warily. Adrenaline and fear had taken the edge off, but as things calmed, his heat had not slowed down. Where was wire?

"And you smell. Go in your nest before you attract someone else. Where's Wire?" the man demanded, and if he didn't smell like rot rolling in poison, Hearth would have almost been touched at his concern.

Pomp would find them first - his nose flared at Hearth's distress. Killer pulled his knife on the tiny omega, and circled him like a vulture.

"Killer," Hearth warned, unsure what footing the two of them were on anymore. But heat or not, Hearth was not going to let Killer go after any of Hearth's other Omegas. Killer was volatile on a good day, and now... now Hearth worried about the omegas in his rival's pack. He hoped they knew what they were getting into, keeping a loose cannon alpha like Killer in their midst. His first rut was going to be the end of that family, Hearth was calling it now. All pent up and overdue... He'd probably murder the first omega he tried to bond with at this rate.

Killer was panting, scenting Pomp, and with him partially distracted, Hearth slyly reaching back into his nest to pull one of the pistols Wire had gotten him in case of emergencies.

Killer make a groaning snarl at Pomp, towering over the man, and then pointing at Hearth with an air of anger that could curled milk, "In heat!" he punctuated the remark with a stab of his hand, "Why is he alone!? Where is Wire?"

Wire again, huh.... either Killer respected the beta more and was demanding an audience or... and Hearth was starting to realize, the beta's smell on him was strong enough that Killer had picked up on who he spent his heats with. he slipped the pistol back into his hiding spot.

"Pomp... Please go find Wire..."

Pomp remained frozen under Killer's scrutiny still, until the interloper growled at him and snarled out his own, "Get Wire!" which send him turning heal and fleeing.

Just the two of them again; Killer paced, growing more and more anxious with each loop, an awkward grumbling growl directed at Hearth with each passing. Hearth's own skin was crawling - his own heat wasn't going to be in full swing for some time yet, but an interloper outside his nest had him just as unhappy. However, it was the longest the two had tolerated each other's presence before, and Hearth did find it somewhat fascinating.

Hearth drew his knees up to his chest, resting his chin on them and studied his rival, "Killer-san..." he'd try for some politeness, just this once, "How old are you?"

Maybe he was younger than Hearth was giving him credit for... most presented by 12 under normal circumstances, but the malnutrition and poverty on their island pushed that to 14 or so even for those better off. 16 was the latest anyone Hearth had known of ever presenting. But maybe it was because so few of them lived longer than that in the Heaps. It was hard to guess peoples ages, living outside stability like they did. Pomp was well into their twenties, but hardly taller than a child. Killer could be anywhere from 13 to 30 for all Hearth knew.

Hell, Hearth was younger than most people thought - barely 20 himself but with the weight of too many winters spent hungry and cold.

Killer did not answer with words, but the defensive hunch in his shoulders gave Hearth an idea he wasn't any older then himself.

"Have you had a rut yet, Boss Killer?" he asked, watching his face for the answer he would not get words for. Killer snarled at him, bitter and angry and the smell has like death. No he had not, and he was not looking forward to it. But he did not deny that he one day would - he offred no insistence that he was beta like his pack mates assured Wire over and over again on.