Infiltration
The Presidential Hotel loomed before Matt like a fortress of glass and steel, his enhanced senses mapping out every entrance, every security camera, every guard position. He adjusted his tie - part of the business attire he'd chosen as his disguise - and tried to ignore the tremor in his hands. The last of his suppressants were wearing off, leaving him feeling exposed and vulnerable.
But he couldn't wait any longer. He needed answers.
His cane tapped against the marble floor of the lobby as he made his way inside, projecting an air of confidence he didn't feel. His enhanced hearing picked up radio chatter from FBI agents stationed throughout the building - forty-seven of them, all armed, all on high alert.
"Can I help you, sir?" The receptionist's voice was professional, beta.
"John Nelson," Matt said smoothly, using one of his pre-prepared aliases. "I have an appointment with the real estate division. Something about the hotel's new ownership structure?"
The lie was carefully crafted, based on intelligence Foggy had gathered about the hotel's recent transfer to a shell corporation. The receptionist's heartbeat remained steady as she checked her computer.
"Ah yes, Mr. Nelson. Fifteenth floor. I'll just need to see some ID..."
Matt presented the forged credentials Foggy had reluctantly helped him obtain. Each second felt like an eternity as the receptionist examined them, but finally she nodded.
"Everything seems in order. Please sign in here."
His fingers found the visitor's log, signing the false name with practiced ease. But as he did, his enhanced senses picked up something that made his blood run cold - traces of a familiar alpha scent. The same controlled, precise scent from the warehouse. His mysterious protector had been here.
Recently.
He made his way toward the elevators, his mind racing. Was this connection to Fisk? Had his unknown guardian been working for the crime lord all along?
The elevator bank was heavily guarded, with two FBI agents checking credentials. But it was the third guard that caught Matt's attention - an alpha, his scent clinically controlled but undeniably powerful. Something about his presence made Matt's omega instincts stir uncomfortably.
"ID please," the alpha guard said, his voice professionally neutral but carrying an edge of... something. Interest? Recognition?
Matt handed over his fake credentials, every nerve on high alert. The alpha's scent was familiar somehow, but the hotel's air was so saturated with different people that he couldn't place it.
"Agent Poindexter," one of the beta guards said. "You want to handle this one?"
"Of course." The alpha - Poindexter - took Matt's ID, his movements precise and controlled. Too controlled. Like someone working very hard to maintain composure.
Matt's enhanced senses picked up subtle changes in the alpha's chemosignals - a spike of protective instinct quickly suppressed, a flutter of increased heart rate immediately regulated. This man was trained, disciplined... and definitely reacting to Matt's fading suppressants.
"Everything appears to be in order, Mr. Nelson." Poindexter's voice remained steady, but Matt could hear the slight strain in it. "Fifteenth floor?"
"Yes." Matt kept his own voice neutral, fighting against his omega instincts that were responding to the alpha's presence. "Thank you."
As he stepped into the elevator, Matt's mind was working overtime. The controlled scent, the precise movements, the perfect composure... it was all too familiar. Could this FBI agent be his mysterious protector?
But before he could process that thought, the elevator doors closed, leaving him alone with his growing suspicions and the unsettling knowledge that his carefully planned infiltration might already be compromised.