Round 70 Transcript

Silra's hands tremble as she fits the last component into her contraption. The circuit board sparks to life, humming with an energy that vibrates through the floor. She looks up, face illuminated by the blue glow. I think—The building groans, a sound like grinding stone and tearing metal, shaking the entire structure. Jeane grabs onto a support beam as the walls shudder. Enough! This thing wants flesh and blood, not your jury-rigged toy!</span></p>

I look up from my circuit board, hands stilling as I watch the entire structure shudder around us. "Well," I say, voice dry despite the vibration in my bones, "that was… decisive." The blue glow of my creation pulses rhythmically against the floor, humming like a contented demon. Or an angry one—hard to tell which side of satisfaction that groan belonged to. I glance sideways at Jeane, noting her impatience writ large across features usually more controlled. Her wings twitch with barely suppressed energy, and I can feel the heat rolling off her even from a few feet away. "If you've got a better idea," I tell her, voice level, "now's the time to share it before this thing shakes itself apart." My fingers curl around a component, ready to disassemble if needed. The building shudders again, more violently this time, and Hera gasps from between us. Her face is pressed against Abby’s shoulder now, eyes squeezed shut as she mutters prayers under her breath. I feel a flicker of something—sympathy, perhaps—but push it down. Emotions make for sloppy work. I turn back to my device, ignoring the way Jeane looms closer, her voice carrying an edge when she speaks again. "Satisfaction comes in many forms," she says, and I can practically hear the unspoken 'not all of them mechanical' hanging in the air between us. My jaw tightens fractionally but I don't look up. "Sure it does," I reply evenly. "But this form happens to be reliable." The circuit board lights up again as I flick a switch, and for a moment the building groans—loudly—but doesn’t shake. "See? Predictable results."

Jeane’s frustrated sigh is almost audible over the machine's hum. She steps back, giving me space that feels more like withdrawal than respect. Good. Less interference means clearer thinking. I scan the device one last time before straightening up, wiping my hands on my thighs despite the lack of dirt or grease—old habits die hard even when you're naked and building vibrators in a demon-haunted hotel. "It’s stable," I announce to no one in particular, though Hera looks relieved enough to matter. "We’ve got… what? Two minutes before it needs another adjustment?"