Round 36

Jeane's defiant stance shifts as the robed figures approach, her wings instinctively half-spreading in defensive posture. The cold morning air raises goosebumps across her exposed skin, nipples hardening from more than just temperature. She glares at Silra with barely contained fury—betrayal burns hotter than any chill.

Halia lowers her hands slowly, palms out and visible—not a threat but not cowed either. Her soft brown hair falls messily around her shoulders, exhaustion evident in every line of her body. The small silver cross necklace catches what little dawn light filters into the alley, glinting innocently against her collarbone.

Both soldiers track the new threats with military precision, weapons trained midway between them and the approaching figures. One mutters to his partner, "What the actual fuck is happening here?"*

The woman in dark business attire remains motionless at the factory entrance, her tall frame imposing even from a distance. Her expression gives nothing away—cold calculation mixed with barely restrained violence.

Jeane's voice cuts through the tension like a switchblade, "You two robed fucks better start talking before I decide this alley needs redecorating. And you—" she turns her crimson glare on Silra "—we’re going to have a very long conversation about betrayal once these other pieces are dealt with."

Halia steps forward slightly, positioning herself between the new threats and Hera & Abby. Her blue-grey eyes narrow as she assesses the situation, "This smells worse than week-old cum in a brothel. Two of our own kind show up with the exact symbols that nearly killed us last night? And now Silra’s playing double agent for—what exactly?"*

The soldiers exchange glances, clearly out of their depth but professional enough to maintain formation. One responds to Halia's question, "We were told to bring you all in for... 'questioning' about cult activity. No mention of glowing sidekicks or naked businesswomen."