Round 98

Ms. Stone's face remains impassive, but her eyes narrow fractionally at Silra's defiance. "The... processing is for your own good," she says coldly. "We're simply ensuring you receive proper care and treatment." She gestures to the soldiers again—one aims his rifle directly at Halia. "You have until the count of five. One..." The twin figures exchange a glance, their symbols pulsing brighter. "Two..." Hera whimpers softly behind Silra. "Three..." Silra's hand moves imperceptibly toward her hidden blade.*

Jeane steps forward, wings half-spread in a protective stance. "Care? Treatment?" she hisses. "You think we're fucking idiots? I've seen what your 'care' looks like—drugged women strapped to tables, forced into..." She trails off as the vortex of shadows begins swirling more aggressively around the twin figures. "Four..." Ms. Stone's patience is visibly wearing thin.*

In that moment of escalating tension, something shifts in the air—the scent of sex still lingering from earlier activities mingling with ozone and something... ancient.