Round 89 Transcript

The new woman's eyes narrow as she scans the room again—taking in every detail with a cold precision that makes my skin crawl. "Enough," she snaps, and everyone freezes mid-excuse or explanation. "This facility is now under lockdown. No one leaves until I am satisfied with an explanation of what happened here."

She gestures sharply. "Secure the perimeter—no one in or out without authorization." The soldiers immediately snap to attention and begin moving into position around the room's exits.*

Halia starts forward again, opening her mouth like she's about to volunteer for something stupid. I grab her arm and yank her back before she can speak—a warning look silencing whatever heroic offer was about to come out.

This is a corporate lockdown—no more walking out of here like we're just leaving a party gone wrong. The enhanced bitch moves to flank Ms. Stone protectively, hand still resting casually on her taser in case anyone gets any ideas.

The twins don't budge an inch—just stand there watching everything unfold with those unnerving synchronized movements. The woman turns back to us specifically.

"Now," she says, voice like ice, "the real explanation begins."

I step forward before anyone else can speak—Jeane looks like she’s about to say something we’ll all regret—and bow my head respectfully toward the tall woman. "We meant no disrespect," I say, voice steady despite the adrenaline still singing through my veins. This isn’t our first time dealing with corporate oversight, and this one seems even worse than Ms. Stone.

I glance at the soldiers positioning themselves by the exits—locked in? Fuck. My eyes flick to the hidden doors again before returning to the woman. "We were... conducting spiritual exercises," I continue, keeping my tone neutral. Not exactly a lie—the fucked-up magic counted as spiritual, right?*

I shift slightly so Hera and Abby are behind me—two terrified civilians don’t help our case. The twins stand off to the side like creepy statues, and Ms. Stone looks ready to vomit under her enhanced guard’s steadying hand.

Jeane raises an eyebrow but doesn’t interrupt—probably calculating how fast she can teleport us out if this goes south. Silra is already moving through escape options in her head, I can tell.

The woman’s eyes bore into me, and for a second I forget how to breathe. She’s not buying it—of course she isn’t. "Explain these 'exercises' that require naked women and soldiers breaking formation," she says, each word sharp enough to cut.

I open my mouth but before I can speak, the secret door behind Ms. Stone slides open silently. Fuck me—more reinforcements? But it’s not more soldiers. It’s a sterile medical room visible through the gap, with that same antiseptic smell wafting out.

And standing just inside? Another woman in crisp business attire, flanked by two more soldiers. Great. Just fucking great.

Jeane takes a measured step forward, her wings spreading slightly for balance—less display and more calculated intimidation. "I think there’s been some misunderstanding," she says, voice smooth but with an underlying edge that makes Halia tense beside her. This corporate bitch thinks she can walk in here and take charge? We’ve done far worse to people who underestimated us.

Her eyes flick to the newly arrived soldiers—two more variables to manage. And that medical room visible through the door? A complication they don’t need right now.

The woman’s cold gaze is unnerving, yes, but Jeane’s dealt with far scarier entities while naked and covered in cum during rituals gone wrong. This is just... corporate bureaucracy with an attitude problem.

She feels Hera shift anxiously behind her—still riding that high from the spell, no doubt—and Abby whimpering softly.

Silra’s calculating something, as usual, but what? There’s nowhere to go—the soldiers have the exits covered now. And teleporting out with two terrified civilians and Halia in crisis mode isn’t exactly clean.

The twins are just... standing there. Creepy synchronized statues that add nothing useful except more weirdness to this already fucked situation.

Ms. Stone? Pathetic as always, hiding behind her enhanced muscle. Jeane almost feels sorry for the soldiers being manipulated by both their corporate overlord and whatever magic residue is still lingering in the room—probably better they stay confused and compliant than start asking actual questions about why four naked women are here with them.

The woman’s not backing down—if anything, she’s leaning forward slightly, ready to escalate this.

Time for damage control. Or maybe... re-framing.

Jeane clears her throat, voice dropping into something more seductive and less confrontational. "Perhaps we could speak privately about... our exercises? Some of what we do here is proprietary and requires context." Flirtation as distraction—an old trick that usually works on men. Let’s see if it works on this stone-faced bitch.

Her wings tuck in again, motion controlled and deliberate. "We have nothing to hide—truly—but some things are better explained without... an audience."

The soldiers won’t understand the subtext, hopefully. The twins might, which is exactly why she doesn’t trust them right now.

I let Halia’s attempt at damage control play out for two seconds before stepping into the gap between her and our new unwanted guest. "Halia—" My voice is a warning, sharp enough to cut through whatever hero complex she’s acting on but quiet enough not to draw more attention from the woman who’s currently running this show.*

I assess the situation with cold precision while my mouth runs on autopilot: two corporate overlords now, one clearly higher up than Ms. Stone and twice as dangerous. The soldiers are professional enough to have the exits locked down tight—military training showing through despite whatever spell residue is still fucking things up.

The medical room visible through that open door? That’s a new complication we don’t need right now. The implication of long-term containment screams at me louder than any of Ms. Stone’s earlier bullshit did.

My eyes flick to the twins—still standing there like unnerving statues, synchronized and unsettling as always. They’re watching everything unfold with those blank expressions that make me want to scream. What are they thinking? What are they reporting back to their mysterious benefactor?