Round 54

The rising waters swirl around their ankles, a frigid promise of what's to come. Jeane Cromwell, tall and pale with wings folded tight against her back, glares at the flickering screens surrounding Silra like some kind of high-tech altar. Her crimson eyes flash with barely contained impatience—nineties-era digital masturbation indeed—as she snaps out a challenge sharp enough to cut through the creaking groans of ancient metal overhead.

"Ninety seconds—fine!" The succubus's voice echoes in the confined space, sharp and dangerous. "But you'd better make those thirty extra seconds count for something more than just digital masturbation!" She wades deeper into the new chamber without hesitation, dark wings half-spread for balance as she scans their surroundings with predatory focus. The ancient subway station-turned-subterranean lake offers little comfort—just more water and the looming threat of whatever entity lurks beyond their rapidly dissolving shield.

Halie, ever the voice of reason, steps back through the rising waters with her silver cross gripped tightly. "Wait!" Her voice cuts through the roar of rushing floodwaters, a desperate plea for sanity in a situation spiraling rapidly out of control. The weary cleric's blue-grey eyes scan the flickering screens surrounding Silra—seeing the teal-haired rogue's fingers dance across interfaces even as the entity looms closer. Halie's jaw sets with determination despite the cold water now reaching her thighs.

"We need those full ninety seconds," she insists, turning to face Jeane with unwavering resolve. "And we'll give them to her." The cleric knows better than most that sometimes patience is the only shield stronger than magic or muscle—especially when dealing with corporate security protocols and whatever ancient horrors they've stumbled into.