Read the following passage and questions, then choose the right answer from options, the answer should be one of A, B, C, D.

<passage>:
This guard smelled trouble and it could be I His name was Liam O'Leary and there was something stinking in his nostrils. It was the smell of trouble. He hadn't found what the trouble was yet, but he would. That was his business. He was a captain of its inmates as the Jug—and if he hadn't been able to detect the scent of trouble brewing a cell-block away, he would never have survived to reach his captaincy. whirling blades. "Look at the mobs in Greaserville! The first breakout from the Jug's going to start a fight like you never saw and we'll be He demanded: "Why wouldn't you mop out your cell?" right in the middle of it!" He was partly right. He would be right in the middle of it—for every O'Leary shook his head. "Let her talk, Sodaro." It said in the O'Leary stopped her. "That's enough! Three days in Block O!" Captain O'Leary took a long drink of water from the fountain marked "Civil Service." But it didn't wash the taste out of his mouth, the smell from his nose. anything, she had had a better environment than O'Leary himself, and touched his cap as O'Leary passed by. O'Leary noted, with the part of his mind that always noted those was proud of it. It was right but they had a—well, a sort of natural, relaxed joy of living. O'Leary next hour, languidly poking a piece of fluff out of the air filter on "Owoo-o-o," screamed Sauer from one end of the cell block and "Yow-w-w!" shrieked Flock at the other. The inside guard muttered: "Wipe rats! They're getting on my nerves." company." He laughed coarsely and abandoned his charges to the Block O The outside guard said sourly: "A woman, for God's sake. Now O'Leary tanglefoot electronic fields that swamped the floor of the block to retch. as not to disturb the lady!" He screeched with howling, maniacal laughter. "Anyway, if we don't cut this out, they'll get us in trouble, Flock!" don't quit this lousy job. Hey, you! Pipe down or I'll come in and beat your head off!" "Ee-ee-ee!" screamed Sauer in a shrill falsetto. "I'm scared!" Then he grinned at the guard, all but his water-moccasin eyes. "Don't you know you can't hurt a wipe by hitting him on the head, Boss?" it. The crazy yowling of the hard-timers, Sauer and Flock, was getting under her skin. They weren't even—even human satisfaction of hearing her—they were animals! "I smell trouble," said O'Leary to the warden. "Trouble? Trouble?" Warden Schluckebier clutched his throat and his little round eyes looked terrified—as perhaps they should have. Warden the Jug, but privately he was a fussy old man trying to hold onto the last decent job he would have in his life. "Trouble? What trouble?" O'Leary shrugged. "Different things. You know Lafon, from Block A? This The warden, faintly relieved, faintly annoyed, scolded: "O'Leary, what O'Leary hesitated, frowning. How could you explain to the warden that smell The warden raised his hand. "Please, O'Leary, don't bother me about desk drawer for something, hesitated, glanced at O'Leary, then dropped scalding heat. He leaned back, looking suddenly happier and much more assured. O'Leary snapped erect, abruptly angry. Pass! What the devil way was "Excuse the expression, O'Leary," the warden said anxiously. "I mean, O'Leary choked back his temper. "Warden, I'm telling you that there's trouble coming up. I smell the signs." all your supposing, O'Leary." He sipped the remains of his coffee, tonight, O'Leary, and we'll get along fine. 'Specialization is the—' That was the trouble with those pale blue tablets, thought O'Leary "O'Leary," he said faintly, "my mistake." thought that maybe, after all, the man was really in pain. Maybe the crazy screams were screams of agony, because certainly his face was the face of an agonized man. bed—nobody had warned her that the eddy currents in the tangler fields had a way of making metal smoke-hot. She gasped but didn't cry out. Score one more painful lesson in her new language course. She rubbed Flock was in that cell and he was doubled over. The guard looked at him doubtfully. It could be a trick, maybe. Couldn't it? But he could see Flock's face and the agony in it was real enough. And Flock was gasping, through real tears: "Cramps. I—I—" Flock to the draw-strings at the back of the jacket. Funny smell in here, he told himself—not for the first time. And imagine, some people didn't believe that wipes had a smell of their own! But this time, he realized cloudily, it was a rather unusual smell. Something burning. Almost like meat scorching. It wasn't pleasant. He finished untying Flock and turned away let the For Flock moaned behind him, oddly close. his arms hadn't been in the sleeves at all! And in one of the hands, incredibly, there was something that glinted and smoked. "All right," croaked Flock, tears trickling out of eyes nearly shut with pain. But it wasn't the tears that held the guard it was the shining, smoking thing, now poised at his throat. A shiv! It looked as though it had been made out of a bed-spring, ripped loose from its frame God knows how, hidden inside the greensleeved jacket God knows how—filed, filed to sharpness over endless hours. No wonder Flock moaned—the eddy currents in the shiv were slowly cooking his hand and the blister against his abdomen, where the shiv had been hidden during other rest periods, felt like raw acid. "All right," whispered Flock, "just walk out the door and you won't get hurt. Unless the other screw makes trouble, you won't get hurt, so tell him not to, you hear?" He was nearly fainting with the pain. hating. "Warden, you got to get a medic in here. My boy Flock, he hurt himself real bad and he needs a doctor." He gestured playfully at the guards with the shiv. "I tell you, Warden. I got this knife and I got O'Leary said: "Warden, I told you I smelled trouble!" The word spread out from the prison on seven-league boots. impact of the news from the prison. For the news touched them where their fears lay. Riot! And not merely a street brawl among roistering wipes, or a bar-room fight of greasers relaxing from a hard day at the plant. The riot was down among the area to hear. They caught the words from a distance—not quite correctly. "Riot!" "Club!" snapped Alys, radarscope-sergeant, with two children querulously awake in her nursery at home. "What in God's name is the use of a club? You can't hurt a wipe by hitting him on the head. You'd

<question>:
In the end, what was it that O'Leary smelled throughout the story?

<options>:
A Burning flesh, from Bradley sitting on the bench and hurting herself.
B The riot. He picked up on the growing unrest, and it came to him as a smell.
C The blue pills the Warden was taking, that were warping his perception and ultimately kept him from realizing the riot was brewing.
D Burning flesh, from the shive being formed. It's the "trouble" he was detecting.

<answer>:

B