Round 72 Transcript

Ms. Stone steps forward now, her heels clicking ominously on the concrete. "You're making this much harder than necessary," she says, voice dripping with displeasure. "I don't care what you've done—right now, you're liabilities. Cooperate and maybe we can sort this out later without violence."

The enhanced woman twists Silra's arm further. "Don't make me break it," she hisses. "You're coming whether you like it or not."

Halie lowers her head further, hands clasped tight, though it’s no act of submission. These symbols pulse wrong—violated magic that chills me to the core. The woman in charge? She smells of blood and bureaucracy, a predator wearing a suit instead of robes.*

Silra slammed against brick… our resident viper finally snared by something sharper than herself. Good riddance, maybe, but not like this—not dragged away while we watch helpless. The soldiers shift uncomfortably—useful uncertainty if played right. The twin cultists move too much alike for coincidence or simple family.

Ms. Stone? Observing from afar like this is performance art rather than actual crisis management. I’m no fool—I know the kind who stand aside while others bleed. And you… enhanced freak with casual brutality. Military experiment gone wrong, probably sold to the highest bidder and now… this.

No. We won’t let these fuckers hurt them—not because of some misplaced loyalty, but because we’re too useful alive. Dead? No value at all. Captured? Used properly? That’s how you build an empire.

I snap back to attention just in time to see Silra slammed against the wall—our resident traitor about to get her comeuppance while I was still dazed from that blow. Fuck.

The twin cultists' symbols pulse brighter now, almost painfully bright in the dim alley. The enhanced woman circles Silra again, close enough that her power crackles across the rogue's skin like static electricity—a constant reminder of how outmatched we are.*

Ms. Stone observes from a safe distance, "I must insist you follow proper protocol for asset evaluation." The soldiers shift uncomfortably at this sudden attention—clearly not expecting the enhanced woman to single out one of our captives for interrogation instead of their original targets. One mutters something about 'de-escalation' but falls silent under her glare.*

Decision time: does Halia try to bluff her way through? Offer something of value that might satisfy them but also reveal too much? Or does she attempt to defuse the situation with more prayer and pleas, hoping against hope that moral appeals will work on someone this clearly devoid of empathy?

I need to assess these new figures fast—who are they working for? What do they really want? The enhanced woman's casual brutality suggests military or security background. The twins? Their matching symbols and identical appearances scream coordinated operation, not rogue cultists acting alone.*

Ms. Stone? Observing from afar like this is performance art rather than actual crisis management. Amateurs all of them, even the enhanced one who thinks circling Silra will intimidate us. I know better—she’s profiling each of us, determining threat levels and disposal options.*

The soldiers? Just pawns following orders; their uncertainty works to our advantage if handled right. Halia on her knees? Playing her role to perfection but that prayer might as well be a neon sign reading 'martyr complex.'*

No. I won't let these fuckers hurt them—not because of some misplaced loyalty, but because we’re too useful alive. Dead? No value at all. But captured? Used properly? That's how you build an empire.

The enhanced woman twists Silra’s arm further. "Don’t make me break it," she hisses. “You're coming whether you like it or not.”*