Round 164 Transcript

The tension in generator room tightens for a beat as the interruption refuses to go away. Everyone is forced to stay quiet and choose their next move carefully.

I pull your jacket over my shoulders with shaking hands—it's damp but warmer than the air in here—and maintain shield magic through sheer force of will despite every nerve screaming at me to stop and warm up properly. The sound of fabric hitting floor did exactly what you wanted: drew security attention away from your movement long enough for data spike insertion. My teeth are chattering so badly I can barely speak, but I manage: "If you mess this up and they call for backup before we're out, I'm letting go of the shield magic completely just to spite you." It's half threat and half desperate plea—I can feel myself losing fine motor control in my fingers already from cold, which means maintaining complex structure is getting harder by second. But I also know without your hacking their comms right now, we're both dead or captured regardless of whether I freeze first. Security leader reaches for radio no doubt to call reinforcements—my shield magic flickers again dropping temperature another degree despite my best efforts at focus through hypothermia symptoms trying to shut me down. I force myself straighter instead of curling into ball like every instinct screams for. "Hurry," I manage, voice cracking from cold and exertion both. "Because if you don't pull this off in next few seconds, I'm going to start using them as human heaters whether they consent or not."

The white noise I'm flooding through their comms systems is enough to scramble their coordination for now—good, because I don't need them calling backup before we can move—but it won't last long unless I do something more permanent. The junction box interface is open, which means I could plant a deeper-level virus that'll keep them offline even after they physically replace the hardware. But that would take time, and every second Jeane's temperature drops another degree makes her shield magic flicker more dangerously. I look back at her shivering form—she looks like she's about to collapse from hypothermia despite my jacket, which isn't nearly warm enough anyway—and feel a complicated mix of irritation and reluctant practicality. I hate relying on anyone for anything during an operation, especially when it involves physical proximity that leaves me vulnerable if something goes wrong. But the fact is: we need her magic functional right now more than I need to maintain my usual distance-and-discretion protocol. "I'm not suggesting this because I want to," I say without turning around completely—still keeping one eye on the security team's formation as they struggle with their malfunctioning radios and try to regroup. "But if you collapse from hypothermia, we lose our best asset for dealing with whatever comes next." The hack won't hold forever, and when it drops, they'll either adapt quickly or call in more forces. Either way, we need to be gone before that happens. I pull out one of the several bottles of lubricant I carry as standard equipment—it's not exactly designed for this situation but it's better than nothing—and toss it toward Jeane without looking back. "That'll transfer heat faster than fabric alone if you spread it under my jacket and your shirt." My tone is purely pragmatic, stripped of any emotion except the mild annoyance at having to spell out something so obvious. "Not a suggestion, not a request—just what needs to happen if we want both of us alive and functional enough to get out of here."

The security leader shouts an order behind me—they're moving into tighter formation now that they've recovered from the initial comms failure. We have maybe forty seconds before they make their next move, which will probably involve closing distance despite the darkness and trying to flank us somehow. "I'm not asking for intimacy," I add flatly while my fingers dance across the junction box interface keeping the white noise going. "I'm stating a tactical necessity." The data spike in my hand heats slightly as it works through deeper layers of their system—if I can plant something here that'll keep their internal surveillance feeds looping, we might buy another minute or two before they figure out how to work around it. But that requires focus and time both. Jeane's response matters right now because if she collapses from hypothermia, my technical skills won't save us from a room full of armed security with night vision advantages in this dark space. She needs warmth, and I need her functional magic. Neither of us particularly wants to be pressed this close physically during an operation, but tactical necessity often overrides personal preference when lives are on the line. The lubricant she caught is warming slowly—body heat transfer works through conduction, and while it's not efficient, it's better than nothing at all. I can hear her teeth still chattering even over the sound of my fingers moving across interface controls as I work through their systems. "Thirty seconds," I mutter without looking back—the security team is starting to move now, trying to flank us using the generator equipment for cover while staying just out of immediate range. Their leader signals with hand gestures that suggest he's planning to split his team into two groups: one to draw our attention forward while the other approaches from the side where Jeane is most vulnerable right now due to her condition. I need to finish this hack and plant something permanent before they complete their maneuver—ideally I'd also like to know whether Jeane is actually capable of using that lubricant effectively without passing out first. But asking for status reports during an active operation just wastes time we don't have. So instead I say: "If you're going to use that lubricant, do it now while I'm holding their comms." My tone is still flat and purely practical—no emotion except the mild irritation of having to manage someone else's medical needs in the middle of a high-pressure operation. "Because once they move into position, we won't have the luxury of tactical warmth transfers anymore."