Round 40

Silra's eyes narrow fractionally as she watches the woman pocket her tablet with barely contained irritation—this whole operation just got yanked off course by whatever call she just received. The soldiers are shifting formation now, moving to create a perimeter that funnels them toward... what? A waiting van? An unmarked car? Doesn't matter. They're no longer playing nice.

I need to keep control of this situation before it spirals completely out of hand. "Ma'am," I say, voice measured despite the adrenaline starting to pump through my system, "we were dealing with a situation that required... delicate handling. These women are not responsible for whatever incident you're responding to."