Round 110

Silra's hands trembled as she worked the microscopic adjustments on the capacitor, her focus unbroken despite the growing tension in the room. The misalignment was minuscule—just 300 nanometers—but in their current predicament, even such a tiny flaw could mean disaster.

"Fucking hell," she muttered under her breath, "If I mess this up, we're all screwed." She glanced up at Jeane, who was pacing like a caged animal, her demonic wings unfurling with each frustrated gesture. "I need fifteen minutes minimum to fix this properly."

Jeane rolled her eyes dramatically. "Fifteen minutes? We don't have fifteen minutes! The building just flashed red again—you saw it! That means we're on borrowed time here." She stalked over to Halie, her wings spreading wide in a display of barely contained impatience.

Silra set down the precision screwdriver with deliberate care, her fingers still twitching from the fine work. "Jeane," she said, voice level but sharp as a blade, "If you unfurl those wings once more in here while I'm trying to save our skins—or rather, our ability to keep them on—I will personally reroute every nerve ending until your idea of pleasure is a gentle breeze."

Halie met her eyes, amusement and something warmer flickering there. "Siblings united in purpose, then?" Silra smirked back, the tension between them momentarily forgotten as they shared a look that spoke volumes.

Jeane's face flushed with anger, but before she could respond, the building shuddered again, a low groan echoing through the walls. The red lights pulsed more insistently now, casting ominous shadows across the room.

"Right," Silra said, breaking the moment. "Fifteen minutes of uninterrupted focus. That's all I ask." She turned back to the capacitor, her hands steadying as she prepared to make the final adjustments. The clock was ticking, and they all knew it.