Bravo had finally reached the maintenance crawl space,a cramped, four-foot-high corridor where cable runs snaked along one side and steam hissed from pipes on the other.
Holt led the way, his rifle snug against his back, elbows rhythmically propelling him forward as he crawled.
Lyra followed closely behind, dragging a heavy bag of charges by its straps.
Suddenly, midway through their journey, motion sensors flickered to life, tiny red eyes blinking ominously along the pipe brackets.
Lyra did not flinch for a second! With a swift motion, she bit off the cap of a micro-jammer patch and slapped it onto a junction box like an impromptu band-aid.
The sensor eyes blinked out in a brilliant flash before going dark.
Holt glanced back at her; she wiggled her fingers playfully like a magician revealing her tricks.
He rolled his eyes but couldn't help but smirk as he continued crawling.
