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The combination sends him crashing to his knees with an agonized roar that echoes through the sterile chamber with acoustic properties that amplify suffering rather than provide mercy or relief.

I don't waste the tactical advantage his vulnerable position provides.

My fist connects with his face in a precisely controlled strike designed to cause disorientation without permanent damage—enough force to establish dominance while maintaining combat capability should continued engagement prove necessary.

But he's not finished yet.

Enhanced alpha resilience proves greater than anticipated as he attempts to use his entire body as a weapon, throwing himself forward in a desperate tackle that might succeed through mass and momentum where finesse and coordination failed.

The maneuver forces tactical adaptation—retreat rather than direct confrontation when opponent abandons technique in favor of brute force application. I execute a backward flip with enhanced acrobatic capability, landing in graceful recovery thatprovides maximum distance while maintaining visual contact with threat assessment.

He tries following with another full-body assault, prompting a second backward flip as space requirements demand continued tactical withdrawal. The pattern repeats once more before sufficient distance allows breathing room for reassessment and strategic recalibration.

"I just want Sable to hurry up and arrive," I mutter with genuine frustration at circumstances that force combat engagement when navigation represents primary objective. "'Cause I miss that judgmental fucker and don't want to deal with this douche."

My casual expression of affection for my absent pack member triggers an unexpected reaction—laughter that carries dark amusement rather than humor or genuine entertainment.The sound suggests knowledge or experience with Sable's capabilities that inform his response to my stated preference.

"Sable wouldn't give a damn about you," he declares with malicious satisfaction at delivering what he clearly considers devastating revelation. "I'm sure he could use you as blackmail just as easily."

The suggestion that my pack member would view me as tactical resource rather than genuine connection stings despite rational understanding that institutional conditioning affects everyone trapped within these walls.

But emotional response gets overwhelmed by what happens next.

His roar builds from somewhere primal and uncontrolled—alpha vocalization designed to trigger biological submission through acoustic dominance and designation hierarchy.

The sound carries pharmaceutical enhancement that amplifies natural capability beyond normal parameters, creatingphysical pressure that seems to penetrate bone and tissue rather than remaining an external auditory input.

But instead of triggering expected omega submission response, the artificial roar creates opposite reaction entirely.

Goosebumps erupt across my skin not from arousal or biological recognition, but from visceral disgust that makes my stomach turn with violent rejection of corrupted alpha signature.

This isn't natural designation dynamics or genuine dominance display—it's pharmaceutical manipulation of biological systems, institutional conditioning that corrupts natural responses to serve research objectives rather than genuine connection or pack formation.

"You better not use that shit again," I warn with deadly precision that cuts through lingering acoustic effects, "or I'm gonna knock you out in one strike."

My threat apparently carries insufficient deterrent value because he disregards warning entirely, launching another charge with renewed determination despite previous failures and obvious tactical disadvantage created through restraint limitation.

But something changes mid-assault—not his approach or my defensive positioning, but fundamental environmental parameters that transform combat scenario into an entirely different challenge category.

My feet leave the ground without conscious intention or deliberate movement—gravitational force suddenly reversing or neutralizing, sending my body floating upward with increasing velocity that defies normal physics and suggests technological intervention rather than natural phenomenon.

A shriek escapes before I can contain it—automatic response to unexpected loss of ground contact and rapid altitude gain beyond normal human experience.

The sensation of uncontrolled flight triggers primal fears that enhanced training never fully addressed despite extensive preparation for unusual circumstances.

But I'm not alone in this aerial predicament.

The charging alpha finds himself similarly affected—his forward momentum becoming upward trajectory as whatever gravitational manipulation affects the entire chamber rather than targeting specific individuals.

The difference in our positioning becomes immediately apparent as distance to ceiling rapidly decreases. My lighter body weight and superior positioning allow reaching maximum altitude first, impact with ceiling occurring with force that drives air from lungs despite attempt to prepare for collision.

Recovery from impact proves challenging given continued weightless environment—normal combat techniques requiring gravitational stability that no longer exists within chamber parameters.

But tactical training adapts to unusual circumstances with creative problem-solving that institutional conditioning might not anticipate.

The combat shirt I borrowed from Riot becomes an essential resource rather than simple clothing—durable fabric that can serve purposes beyond modesty or protection. I slip out of the garment with efficient movements, grateful for the combat bra that maintains adequate coverage while providing freedom of movement necessary for an improvised solution.

The shirt transforms into a lifeline as I tie one end around my waist before securing the other to ventilation grating that provides the only stable anchor point within reach. The improvised harness creates tenuous connection to ceiling structure, preventing uncontrolled drift while maintaining strategic positioning above immediate threat.