In the Lower Levels of the Administration building, New Tamaran
Wallace is in the company of Pharras. Things are gonna come to a head in mere minutes, and I know it. I need to get the hell out of these air ducts and into the corridors in the lower levels. Moving rapidly forwards, sliding along the smooth metalwork, I eventually find an isolated section of corridor with a vent just large enough for my frame to fit through. In the relative silence here, any noise from this area is gonna be a dead giveaway.
I listen for a moment. No company yet. Time for the handy-dandy hand cutting tool, I figure. I start slicing out the fasteners holding the vent in place.
One, two, three... then slide my fingers through the vent's holes to stop it falling to the ground as I finish the last four, pulling it up and setting it just in front of me in the ventilation shaft. A quick look up and down the corridor, and I've assessed its width, height, where the lights are located, and their power source.
Dammit, Kon. Where's my distraction?
"Kon, Nightwing. Launch those fireworks already. Out."
It's now or never. I'm through the opening in a split-second, landing silently on the paved floor.
Checking my scanner, I can make out several distinct Tamaranian life forms - but there's only one down here that shows distinctly as moving slowly, if at all, with two others not close by. About two hundred yards.
It's too bright down here. I need cover. I need the edge.
I ain't called Nightwing for nothing.
It only takes two 'rangs to find their mark, and suddenly the entire section is plunged into darkness.
This is more like it.
I listen for a moment. No company yet. Time for the handy-dandy hand cutting tool, I figure. I start slicing out the fasteners holding the vent in place.
One, two, three... then slide my fingers through the vent's holes to stop it falling to the ground as I finish the last four, pulling it up and setting it just in front of me in the ventilation shaft. A quick look up and down the corridor, and I've assessed its width, height, where the lights are located, and their power source.
Dammit, Kon. Where's my distraction?
"Kon, Nightwing. Launch those fireworks already. Out."
It's now or never. I'm through the opening in a split-second, landing silently on the paved floor.
Checking my scanner, I can make out several distinct Tamaranian life forms - but there's only one down here that shows distinctly as moving slowly, if at all, with two others not close by. About two hundred yards.
It's too bright down here. I need cover. I need the edge.
I ain't called Nightwing for nothing.
It only takes two 'rangs to find their mark, and suddenly the entire section is plunged into darkness.
This is more like it.