Round 90 Transcript

I lean in closer to Halia, voice dropping. "You’re playing right into their hands—let me handle this." My eyes dart between her and our new guest, calculating every micro-expression.

The woman doesn't move, doesn’t react except for a barely perceptible tightening of her jaw. She’s not buying it—none of it. And now she’s got an assistant Director or whatever the fuck she is standing in that doorway with more soldiers.

Jeane’s trying to flirt her way out? Fucking typical—that shit works on maybe 30% of people, and this woman isn’t even in the top 90th percentile of that group. The enhanced bitch shifts her weight slightly—ready for violence if needed. Ms. Stone looks like she’s about to pass out from sheer terror.

This is spiraling fast. We need to break this standoff before it turns into something we can’t talk our way out of.

I take another half-step forward, positioning myself between the twins and our 'guests'—if they try anything, I want a clear line of sight and no obstacles.

The new woman speaks again, voice like a whipcrack. "Enough. You will all come with us for debriefing immediately." Her eyes lock onto mine—she sees through bullshit better than most, and she’s not backing down.

Fuck. We’re out of time for subtle manipulation.

The soldiers start moving in formation toward us, hands near their weapons but not quite on them yet. Standard corporate intimidation tactics—show enough force to make compliance seem rational without actually escalating to violence… yet.

My hand twitches toward the hidden blade in my sleeve. Not yet. Not unless absolutely necessary.

The twins don’t react except to shift position slightly—still synchronized, still unsettling as hell.

Halia looks ready to argue or pray her way out of this. Jeane’s calculating teleport options. Abby and Hera are just... frozen in place, terrified and useless.

Decision point: Do we go quietly for now and try to talk our way out later? Or do we force a confrontation here and now?

The medical room door closes with a soft hiss—no more witnesses. Just us versus them.

I step between Halia and our new guest, voice sharp enough to cut through her hero complex. "You’re playing right into their hands—let me handle this." My eyes flick around, calculating every variable: 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 narrow as I assess the twins—still standing there like unnerving statues, synchronized and unsettling as always. What are they thinking? What are they reporting back to their mysterious benefactor?

Jeane’s wings shift restlessly, her eyes locked on the new woman and her entourage. This is exactly the kind of complication we didn’t need—corporate oversight with an iron fist and no patience for explanations.

A part of her still wants to teleport us out, consequences be damned. But Silra’s right—the soldiers have every exit covered, and trying to move Halia or the others in their current states would be a disaster. No, we need a different approach.