Round 87 Transcript

As the catwalk creaks under their weight, Halie's shield magic sputters once more, her eyes widening in alarm. "Ten seconds left," she warns, her voice barely audible over the rushing water. Jeane beats her wings harder, maintaining balance on the unstable catwalk section, while Silra types frantically, her teal eyes fixed on the screens. The water level rises another inch, its surface churning with increasing ferocity as floodwaters surge forward. Suddenly, a faint humming noise echoes through the tunnel, growing louder by the second. The maintenance hatch shudders violently, its metal skin buckling further under the pressure. Water pours in, threatening to engulf the trio. Halie's shield magic collapses, her defensive barrier crumbling as she stammers, "I... can't hold it!"

I snap my wings tight against my back despite the urge to beat them—maintaining balance on this swaying catwalk requires every ounce of concentration as water sloshes past my mouth making breathing difficult even through nostrils. Halie's shield collapsing means we're exposed now, but moving across this death trap might get us to solid ground before drowning in controlled fashion here waiting for arrest with Silra's systems already compromised and barely holding together behind me. "Fold wings as suggested—can't risk knocking anyone off balance into rising waters below." I edge forward along narrow passage, one hand trailing against wall for guidance while maintaining footing on slick metal grating beneath me. Every step requires precise calculation to distribute weight evenly across unstable surface—the water level climbs relentlessly now past my nose in cold insistence pressing upward as floodwaters surge through tunnel with increasing force. The maintenance hatch groans louder behind us, metal straining against pressure build-up—I don't need tactical screens to know that won't hold much longer before giving way completely and unleashing torrent that swallows us whole like afterthought. "Halie—you're our only defense now if something's waiting beyond this catwalk." My voice tightens despite effort at calm authority—"Maintain whatever shield magic you can even if it's just a few seconds at a time between collapses. That might be enough warning before we stumble into trap or security system." I edge forward, water sloshing around my thighs now as the passage narrows further—I need both hands free for balance but keeping one against wall means less stability in case of sudden drop or structural failure ahead. The cold liquid presses upward insistently against exposed skin while maintaining magical concentration despite physical strain

My teal eyes flick between Halie's collapsing shield and Jeane's folded wings—both choices have teeth but time is bleeding out like a slit throat behind us. "We cross now as unit or we drown in formation." I jam both hands against holographic keys, voice tight despite the cool mask I wear when shit gets real. "Halie, you take point with whatever shield fragments are left—even if it's just a bubble of hope between collapses. Jeane covers our six with those wings ready but folded unless we need them for emergency lift or something drops from above." My fingers blur across screens as I split attention between maintaining the blind spot illusion and hacking whatever security systems might be waiting on the far side—water laps at my chin now, cold and insistent. "If any of us slips off this death trap, the others haul them up immediately without hesitation. No heroic last stands or sacrificial plays." My teal eyes meet both women's briefly, sharp and clear despite rising panic gnawing at edges. "We survive together or not at all." The catwalk groans under our combined weight—every second counts before that maintenance hatch gives way completely and turns this tunnel into our grave.