Round 17 Transcript

Club-wielder scoffs, unimpressed by your desperate plea. "Art project? You expect me to buy that bullshit?" He jerks his head toward the upstairs door where the groaning woman is still visible. "That looks like someone who's been roofied and left for dead. And you all are dressed like extras from a fucked-up porn shoot." His finger tightens on the trigger again as he takes another step forward. "We're doing this the easy way or the hard way - but we ARE doing it. You're coming with us for questioning whether you like it or not."

The situation just got more desperate.

I hold up both hands palm-out in the universal sign of 'don't shoot', keeping my voice carefully level despite the adrenaline surging beneath my skin. Gentlemen, let's all take a deep breath here. My wings ruffle instinctively as I try to stand down - they've got guns, we've got blades and bruised egos. We're not looking for trouble - just some... artistic types who got carried away. I glance sideways at Silra, willing her to keep those hands visible and away from her hidden weapons. The last thing we need is a bloodbath in front of civilians and God knows who else might be watching. Stay cool - these aren't street punks we can carve up and walk away from. Those are real weapons held by people who know how to use them. If we go for blades now, they'll open fire before we're halfway through our first strike. The club-wielder's partner with the rifle is scanning the area behind them now - looking for backup or additional threats. That means whatever organization these guys represent has protocols for potential witness situations and they're following them methodically rather than acting on pure aggression. They've lowered their weapons to give us time to comply, which is professional courtesy I'd almost respect if we weren't in this fucked situation. I meet the club-wielder's angry glare directly, keeping my voice steady despite the urge to lash out or run. Look, there's been a misunderstanding but nobody here wants violence. We can explain everything - just lower the weapons so we can talk like civilized people instead of pointing guns at each other. The demon within me is screaming to end this before it gets worse, but even I'm smart enough to know that would be suicide.