Page 22 of Knot Their Fated M.U.S.E

His presence after such prolonged absence represents significant deviation from established protocol—suggesting either substantial change in experimental parameters or developments beyond standard operational framework.

Press approaches the center of the judgment floor, subjects parting to create a pathway through their formation. His gaze lifts to my suspended position, clinical assessment barely masking the satisfaction he takes in his role as architect of suffering.

"Subject 731," he calls, voice carrying that distinctive blend of cultural refinement and sadistic authority. "I require your presence at floor level for consultation."

I continue my slow rotation, deliberately ignoring his command while completing the full 360-degree assessment of waiting subjects.

The silent observers in the formation watch this exchange with confused fascination, uncertain how to interpret this deviation from familiar protocol.

Press sighs with theatrical patience.

"The stubbornness of alphas never ceases to amaze me," he remarks to his companions, though the words are clearly intended for my consumption. "Particularly those who once held positions of authority in the outside world."

I complete my rotation before responding, voice carrying the calm judicial tone I've maintained through years of enforced judgment.

"Current protocol specifies completion of standard assessment sequence before external consultation," I state, the words carrying no emotion despite the rage simmering beneath surface control. "Deviation compromises data integrity and invalidates comparative analysis metrics."

Press's smile never reaches his eyes.

"Override authorized under Nexus Protocol Seven-Alpha," he counters smoothly. "Immediate compliance required."

I remain suspended, continuing my assessment as if he hadn't spoken. His invocation of Nexus protocols carries no weight—mere theatrical gesture designed to maintain illusion of legitimate authority for observers rather than exercise of actual institutional power.

My attention focuses on the waiting subjects, identifying patterns and categories with judicial precision while maintaining awareness of Press's growing irritation.

Among the formation stands an alpha whose scent carries notes I've learned to recognize—genetic markers indicating potential compatibility with specific omega profiles currently under development in upper levels.

I make mental note of his position in the formation, cataloging identifiers for potential future reference. This information holds no immediate tactical value but maintains the habit of strategic observation that has kept my mind functional through years of isolation.

"Your continued defiance serves no purpose," Press observes, irritation becoming more evident beneath practiced control. "The schedule has been modified to accommodate developing circumstances."

I finish my assessment before responding, allowing silence to extend beyond comfortable duration. The technique—once employed in courtroom settings to create psychological pressure on hostile witnesses—serves equally well in this inverted power dynamic.

"Assessment complete," I finally announce, though I make no move to descend from my suspended position. Instead, I begin another set of inverted pull-ups, muscles contracting with mechanical precision despite accumulating fatigue.

"One."

Press's patience visibly thins.

"This display is both unnecessary and counterproductive," he states, clinical mask slipping to reveal genuine annoyance. "Circumstances require immediate consultation regarding upcoming protocol modifications."

"Two."

His sigh carries exaggerated forbearance.

"You alphas are always so stubborn. Particularly the intellectual ones who believe resistance serves some higher purpose."

He snaps his fingers, the gesture clearly some prearranged signal.

One of the guards flanking him draws his sidearm with practiced efficiency, taking aim not at me but at the cable supporting my suspended position.

The shot echoes through the chamber with deafening intensity, the bullet severing the reinforced cable with precision that speaks of extensive training. Physics takes over as my body begins its free-fall from twelve feet above concrete flooring.

Years of conditioning activate without conscious thought—muscles responding to sudden gravitational shift with practiced coordination. I rotate midair, positioning for optimal impact distribution, arms and legs adjusting to convert vertical momentum into horizontal displacement.

My landing appears effortless to observers—body absorbing impact through a controlled roll that disperses kinetic energy while protecting vital structures from compression damage.

I come to rest in perfect stillness, one knee touching ground, opposite hand braced against concrete, head lowered in position that suggests submission while actually providing optimal situational assessment.

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