Round 70

Silra slammed against the brick wall, her bright teal eyes wide with shock as the enhanced operative's grip digs painfully into her shoulder blade. The cold brick scrapes her bare skin, a harsh reminder of their vulnerability. The twin cultists' symbols pulse brighter now, almost painfully bright in the dim alley—each beat sending a fresh wave of wrongness crawling across Silra's exposed skin. She can feel the operative's power crackling through the air around them like static electricity, each tiny spark raising goosebumps across her naked body.

Ms. Stone observes from a safe distance, "I must insist you all comply immediately." Her voice cuts through the tension like a knife—cold, precise, utterly without emotion. The soldiers shift their aim slightly at her command, weapons tracking between Silra and the others still standing. Halia kneels praying desperately in the center of it all, blue-grey eyes squeezed shut as she murmurs something too quiet to hear over the sudden rush of blood in Silra's ears.*

Across from them, Jeane staggers back upright—tall winged form swaying slightly but those crimson eyes already calculating angles for retaliation. Hera takes a hesitant step forward, amber gaze darting between Ms. Stone and the operative holding Silra. "W-wait," she stammers, voice barely audible over the sudden pounding of her own heart.* "There's been some kind of misunderstanding—"

Abby whimpers softly against the wall behind them, trying to make herself smaller somehow despite already being pressed flat against brick.

A moment stretches into eternity as everyone holds their breath—waiting for someone else to break the standoff.