Round 73

Silra moved to the edge of the catwalk, her teal eyes scanning the flickering screens in front of her. The air was thick with the smell of rust and decaying water, punctuated by the sharp scent of ozone from Halie's struggling shield magic. Each flickering light cast long shadows that seemed to writhe across the walls, hinting at movement just beyond perception. The rising waters below churned with unseen currents, reflecting the emergency lights in a grotesque dance of red and shadow.

"I hate this setup," she muttered, more to herself than anyone else. "They herded us here intentionally—triggered alarms on purpose because they wanted witnesses to see whatever horror show is waiting at the end of this catwalk." Her fingers danced across the holographic interface, extending the blind spot around them even as she worked to crack the security protocols.

"Classic corporate security theater with extra steps and bad lighting," she continued, frustration evident in her voice. "Jeane wants to charge forward like a brainless fire demon, Halie's got her shield up trying to play crusader, and I'm stuck between them extending a blind spot that's more porous than my excuse for being here in the first place." The corrupted figures stumbled closer, their movements erratic but purposeful.

"This whole operation is fucked," she hissed under her breath. "We need to get out of here before—" Her words cut off as one of the figures lunged forward, hand reaching through Halie's shield with unnatural speed. The barrier flickered but held, and Silra felt a cold dread settle in her stomach.