The heavy static on the high-frequency tactical channel hissed like a nesting serpent, cutting through the damp chill of the lower maintenance shaft. Outside the smoking ruins of the collapsed atrium, Operative Enzy adjusted her communication headset, her boots snapping small pieces of shattered concrete as she paced along the temporary military perimeter. The harsh glare of tactical floodlights illuminated her cold, unyielding expression while she stared directly at the real-time structural blueprints of Sector 7 floating on her hand-held data terminal.
"Unseal the heavy deployment crates and prepare the backup sweeper units for immediate structural breaching," Enzy ordered, her voice cutting through the radio interference with an absolute, icy authority. "We are losing the tracking si
