Three levels up, in a flurry of fire, din, explosions, and shouts. Bullets whizzed past his head; flame throwers singed his hair; shrapnel from crudely constructed bombs streaked over his body as he hit the floor. The picture-commands from Molly came in swift sequence, showing him his next action before…
Just beneath the control room, Clint took out the hallway cameras before Molly had a chance to tell him herself. The image-commands were thin and chaotic now, as if Arturo didn’t know what the next move should be and kept trying out options. Finally, three words occurred to him, surfacing…
“Molly. Molly. Come on, talk to me, Molly.” “Shh! What part of radio silence don’t you understand?” “I’ve never been that keen on silence.” “Oh, don’t I know it. Can’t talk. We’re going in.” Clint tried to get another word in before the line was cut. No luck. He leaned…