Round 197

The hooded figure steps fully aside, revealing a narrow corridor beyond the shack—dark and uninviting but clearly an exit route. The device in their hand continues scanning, emitting soft blue pulses that illuminate the cramped space in staccato bursts. Outside, the voices beyond the door shift position, multiple sets moving closer with measured patience. "Time's running out," the modulated voice reminds them flatly. "Your choice."

Jeane’s shield magic flickers dangerously—core temperature dropping again without Silra’s body heat. Fuck this. Either option sucks, but at least your heat signature is consistent and predictable. She presses closer involuntarily, demonic physiology instinctively seeking the warmth it now requires for survival. Fine—I’ll take the tunnel with you. But if this is a corporate trap, I’m unleashing everything before they contain me.

Silra’s teal eyes remain fixed on the hooded figure as she slowly nods. Acceptable terms. Lead on—slowly—and expect questions every few steps about what that device actually scans for. She moves toward the corridor first, one hand never leaving a knife hilt while the other keeps Jeane close by the elbow. Stay behind me and watch my back. If this goes wrong, we go down fighting, not captured.

The two women slip into the narrow maintenance tunnel single-file—Jeane’s wings folded tight against her back as they navigate the cramped space. So, mysterious guide with glow-stick tech, Silra calls ahead coolly, what exactly is that device scanning for? And don’t give me vague corporate bullshit answers—I need technical specifics or I start suspecting this tunnel has one-way walls.

The hooded figure pauses midway down the corridor, turning to face them. Thermal signatures and magical energy traces. Specifically looking for—Their words cut off as a distant rumble echoes through the tunnel system—the sound of collapsing infrastructure somewhere nearby. Shit. Move faster—this section won’t hold much longer.