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TWENTY-SEVEN

THE PRICE OF ENHANCEMENT

~JINX~

The metallic taste of adrenaline still coats my tongue as I take inventory of my current state—standing upright, conscious, and miraculously not convulsing on the floor like some malfunctioning experiment.

"I haven't passed out or seizured yet," I announce with cautious optimism that feels dangerous to voice aloud, "so maybe that's some growth."

The words barely finish leaving my lips before Riot and Sable exchange one of those loaded Alpha looks—silent communication that speaks to shared concern and tactical assessment I'm apparently not privy to despite being the subject of their obvious evaluation.

Great. Nothing like being discussed in Alpha sign language while standing right here.

Without warning, both of them crouch down simultaneously with movements so perfectly synchronized it would be choreographed if it weren't so ridiculous.

Their knuckles rap against the concrete floor with deliberate precision— knock knock knock —as if summoning whatever cosmic forces govern institutional irony and pharmaceutical side effects.

Are they seriously knocking on wood right now?

I give them my best withering stare, arms crossing over my chest as I channel every ounce of exasperation their superstitious display deserves.

"Haha, very funny," I deadpan, voice dripping with sarcasm thick enough to cut with institutional cutlery. "I forgot you guys are sometimes douches."

Their responding smirks carry identical satisfaction that suggests my irritation provides exactly the entertainment they were seeking—Alpha amusement at Omega expense disguised as protective concern and tactical caution.

Typical.

Riot straightens first, his gaze shifting to Sable with expression that carries genuine warmth beneath surface assessment of physical condition and systematic damage accumulated through institutional separation.

"It's good to see you’ve survived the unthinkable, I'm sure," he states with characteristic directness that acknowledges judicial capabilities while recognizing the psychological toll that suspended existence extracted through systematic isolation and mechanical routine.

Sable's response emerges with matching sincerity despite professional facade that judicial training maintains even during personal interaction and pack recognition.

"Likewise," he acknowledges before his silver eyes narrow with tactical consideration that transcends simple reunion to encompass strategic planning and objective assessment. "What will happen next?"

As if the room itself has been eavesdropping on our conversation with institutional precision, the door slides open with pneumatic finality that transforms speculation into immediate reality.

The threshold reveals a corridor beyond—sterile passage that speaks to continued navigation through architectural maze designed for systematic control and psychological manipulation.

Not freedom, but progression toward whatever fresh hell Press has orchestrated for our continuing education in survival and systematic torture.

I take exactly one step toward the revealed exit before Riot's massive frame blocks my path with protective positioning that prioritizes my safety over tactical efficiency or strategic advance.

"You're going to be behind me at all times," he declares with Alpha authority that expects immediate compliance rather than negotiation or debate about optimal formation during potential combat scenarios.

The presumption that I need constant protection despite recently demonstrating lethal capability against professional operatives triggers immediate rebellion against paternalistic treatment and designation stereotypes.

"I ain't going to be manhandled by you when I can take care of myself," I huff with wounded pride that refuses to accept diminished autonomy despite pharmaceutical vulnerabilities and enhanced conditioning that operates beyond conscious control.

The protest emerges with characteristic defiance—recognition of capability that transcends designation expectations despite systematic conditioning designed to create weapons from enhanced subjects through chemical override and psychological manipulation.

My gasp of surprise cuts off mid-declaration as arms wrap around my waist from behind with swift efficiency that bypasses defensive positioning through tactical misdirection and coordinated Alpha cooperation.

Sable lifts me with judicial precision that transforms protest into fait accompli—over his shoulder like cargo despite my obvious objections and continued struggle against unwanted transportation.

"What is with you Alpha men!" I groan with exasperation that encompasses both specific situation and broader pattern of protective behavior that prioritizes my safety over personal autonomy or tactical contribution.

My feet kick with futile energy that accomplishes nothing beyond expressing displeasure at circumstance beyond my immediate control—suspended positioning that eliminates leverage for effective resistance or strategic repositioning.

The indignity of being carried like baggage when I should be leading tactical advance triggers territorial response that institutional conditioning never quite eliminated despite years of designation programming.

"Overprotective," Sable responds with clinical assessment that reduces Alpha behavior to simple categorical identification rather than acknowledging complex emotional motivation or pack dynamics.

"Extremely possessive," Riot adds with satisfaction that suggests appreciation for territorial display rather than recognition of problematic paternalism or autonomy violation.

Their casual enumeration of Alpha characteristics continues with back-and-forth precision that treats my objections as entertaining rather than legitimate concerns about tactical positioning and strategic contribution.

"Territorial," Sable contributes to the growing list with judicial thoroughness that catalogs behavior patterns with scientific precision.

"Dominant," Riot responds with predatory satisfaction that makes his voice drop to rumbling bass that vibrates through chamber acoustics with almost physical presence.

"Protective," Sable adds with conviction that transcends simple biological imperative to encompass emotional investment in Omega safety and pack preservation.

"Stubborn," Riot concludes with finality that suggests comprehensive assessment of Alpha nature through systematic observation and personal experience.

The rapid-fire exchange creates a verbal tennis match that treats my autonomy as an amusing topic for Alpha analysis rather than serious consideration of tactical capability and strategic contribution.

"I give up and don't even care anymore," I declare with theatrical surrender that masks genuine frustration at being reduced to cargo despite obvious capability and systematic training. "I don't need to listen to them."

But tactical assessment recognizes futility of continued resistance when two enhanced Alphas have decided on protective protocol that prioritizes safety over dignity or personal preference.

Better to conserve energy for genuine threats rather than waste resources fighting domestic disputes about transportation methodology and formation strategy during potentially hostile navigation.

I allow my body to relax over Sable's shoulder with reluctant acceptance—tactical adaptation to circumstances beyond immediate control while maintaining awareness of environmental factors and potential threats.

The swaying motion created by his measured steps proves more problematic than anticipated.

Each movement sends gentle oscillation through suspended positioning that creates subtle vertigo despite enhanced equilibrium and systematic conditioning designed to maintain spatial awareness under unusual circumstances.

Nausea builds with insidious progression—starting as minor discomfort before evolving into genuine concern about pharmaceutical aftereffects and biological instability.

"Jinx, your blood pressure is dropping," Maverick's voice crackles through the transmitter with clinical precision that cuts through atmospheric interference and electronic distortion. "Cardiovascular indicators suggest impending physiological compromise."

The electronic Alpha's concern triggers automatic response despite circumstances that should prioritize immediate environmental assessment over remote medical monitoring.

His continued presence in my neural implant provides tactical advantage through comprehensive biological monitoring, yet creates territorial tension with physical Alphas whose proximity should take precedence over technological connection.

Something incoherent emerges from my lips—syllables that carry no linguistic meaning despite obvious intention to communicate concern or request assistance.

The attempted verbalization dissolves into slurred nonsense that suggests pharmaceutical interference with cognitive function and motor control beyond normal parameters for enhanced recovery and systematic adaptation.

Sable stops walking immediately, his enhanced senses detecting abnormality in my speech pattern despite suspended positioning that should limit direct observation of physical condition and neurological function.

"Repeat that," he instructs with judicial authority that expects compliance despite my obvious struggle with basic communication and cognitive processing.

I try again, forcing concentration through fog that seems to thicken with each attempted syllable.

But the words emerge as unintelligible mixture of linguistic elements—either foreign language triggered by pharmaceutical confusion or complete motor control failure that renders speech impossible despite conscious intention and systematic effort.

Recognition flickers across Sable's features as understanding crystallizes regarding impending medical emergency that transcends simple fatigue or pharmaceutical adjustment.