Round 81 Transcript

Time runs out. The soldiers advance another step, the enhanced operative flexes her hands meaningfully, and the new arrival watches with cold amusement. What will you do?

The tall woman's eyes narrow as she studies each of them in turn—assessing value like a farmer checking livestock. "You disappoint me," she says to Ms. Stone, "I thought you were bringing me assets, not... this."

I lean against the cold factory wall, arms crossed, watching this whole fucking disaster unfold like it’s a bad play I got dragged to. The new bitch in charge? Great—just what we need, another psycho with a power trip and a knack for making our lives hell.

Halia kneeling there praying? Admirable but stupid. Magic doesn’t work that way here, not anymore, and this crowd sure as shit isn’t listening to any gods. The others are just posturing or panicking—Jeane trying to negotiate like she’s running a board meeting instead of being naked in a meat locker, Hera offering herself up like some kind of human sacrifice, Abby trying to bargain with secrets that don’t exist.

I need a different angle. The enhanced bitch is the biggest immediate threat—she looks ready to snap someone’s neck just for fun. But taking her out means dealing with every other armed person in here first. Not smart odds when you’re naked and unarmed.

The twin robed freaks are creepy as hell but they’re not the real power here. It’s Ms. Stone and now this tall bitch who matter. They see us as assets to be... processed. Which means we need to find leverage before we end up on those tables.

My eyes land on the scattered sex toys still lying around—literal evidence of what went down here. Could that work in our favor somehow? Or is it just more rope for them to hang us with?

Ms. Stone’s getting impatient, the enhanced bitch flexing her hands like she wants an excuse. And tall woman looking at us like we’re disappointing investments... fuck.

Okay. Play stupid until the right moment. Let the others do the talking while I work out how to turn this situation on its head. Someone’s got to be the brains in this operation, and it looks like that job fell to me whether I wanted it or not.

I push off the wall slightly, still looking compliant but ready to move. Not panicking yet—that much I can control at least. Just... wait for the right opening. Something always gives with enough pressure.

The tall woman’s voice cuts through the tension: "Enough posturing." She gestures and one of the soldiers steps forward with a stun gun already charged. "Perhaps you require a demonstration of our seriousness."

Well, shit. Time just ran out faster than I hoped. I need to move—fast—but without drawing attention until I know what my first move is.

I catch Jeane’s eye for a second—she’s trying to keep her cool but she’s two seconds away from losing it completely. Hera looks terrified and ready to faint, Abby’s just frozen in place. Halia’s still praying like the world isn’t ending around her.

Fuck. Fine. If no one else is going to do something useful, I guess it falls on me again.

I take a single step forward, hands still visible at my sides but positioned where I can move fast if needed. My eyes dart across the room—exit routes, potential weapons, weak points in their formation.

"Wait," I say, keeping my voice level and reasonable. "Before you do anything rash, maybe we should all calm down and talk this through like adults."

Jeane forces a confident smile, though her patience is wearing thin. I think you're misunderstanding our position here, she says to Ms. Stone and the new woman, her voice carrying the authority of someone used to being obeyed.* We're not ordinary assets—we're skilled practitioners with valuable knowledge and unique abilities.

The tall woman's eyes narrow as she studies Jeane with cold interest. And what exactly makes you... special? she asks, her tone making it clear she doubts their worth.

Jeane forces a confident smile, though her patience is wearing thin. I assure you, we have skills that—

A prayer? the tall woman interrupts with a dismissive wave toward Halia. You're in no position to bargain with gods right now. Only one who matters stands before you.

The enhanced operative moves closer, cracking her knuckles ominously.

Jeane's hands clench into fists as she fights the urge to unleash her powers on these monstrous women. We have information about other cult operations, she says through gritted teeth.* Other leaders. Other facilities. You want to stop this thing? I'm your key.

The tall woman shares a look with Ms. Stone—an unspoken conversation of assessment that makes Jeane's skin crawl.

Ms. Stone steps forward, her smile gone. Information we can extract ourselves if necessary. She nods to the soldiers, who begin to close ranks around them.

Jeane feels panic rise in her chest but keeps her face a mask of composure. You'd rather waste resources interrogating us than let me lead you to more lucrative targets? she laughs coldly. I assure you, what we know is worth far more than—

Enough posturing. the tall woman cuts her off with a gesture. You have until the count of ten to decide whether cooperation comes willingly or by force.

Jeane's eyes dart between the soldiers advancing on them and the enhanced operative ready to strike. She needs time to think, to strategize—but their captors are running out of patience faster than she can devise a plan.

The air in the factory grows heavy with the threat of violence about to erupt. Each heartbeat feels like an hour as Jeane weighs her options—all of them terrible.