<strong>PFC Nortan 'Gizmo' Law</strong><br/><br/>Gizmo switched between each local security channel, his screen constantly a black abyss, a little bit too much in the zone to mind Rome's lewd joke. There were three in total in that room, according to the search result. None of them showed any more than an empty blank space where a visual of the inside should be. Not the familiar offline static from destroyed feeds. No traces of a security virus. Definately manual disconnection. Sabotage? Deliberate definately, but why? He stopped pondering over it as he heard his computer chirp a task complete, followed by the ding of a password accepted.<br/><br/><em>Open sesame.</em><br/><br/>Quickly snapping his computer back onto his belt and unplugging all the wires, he backed away quickly to rejoin the squad, raising his shotgun at the ready. Their first step into the interior, and it was already giving him the nerves just thinking of what may be behind those doors. For all he knew, it could be a door to the depths of Hell, and for all he knew, no conventional guns could hurt demons.<br/><br/><em>Beware the wrath and fury of the demon. For it comes for your blood and flesh. Hides from you when seen. Lashes at you when unseen.</em><br/><br/>He had to muster all his marine resolve to pray that nothing came out of those doors except stale air, and true enough to his relief, all that greeted his vision was a cleared out garage. Remaining as alert as he could, paranoia sending his senses on hyperdrive, he followed the squad inside. He made sure he captured every detail about the place, Senjo's theory noted and processed for future thought. Once the room was called clear of anything hostile, he lowed his shotgun slightly to give him a better view of the steel walls that now surrounded him. His vision was finally unimpaired by the elements, able to turn his sharp eyes around to sweep the stripped out bay several times. He was looking for the security cameras that he could not access. No such devices in sight. Just empty metal housings on the walls where they strategically should be. Looks like whoever took the tools and parts were also desperate enough to strip out the cameras. The obvious greasy stains of oil were what he noticed next. Dipping down quickly to probe a finger on the dried out liquid, he tested for age. They were dry enough to tell him that no one had been moving vehicles around for a very long time. The lack of tire tracks said the same thing.<br/><br/><em>What am I doing?</em><br/><br/>Hearing the order to shut the doors, Gizmo got onto it, punching into the console to close the things behind them. The whistling of the rain ceased as the air tight locks sealed, the portal from the real world to untold oblivion now nothing more than a locked gate. Setting the password was easy. A quick plug in and reprogramming only took 15 seconds. Their only secure exit could now only be opened by them with 'Kilo' as the new password. After he was done, he stowed his equipment once more, pulled out his motion tracker, and resumed tactical positioning as instructed by the COs on double. Of all things he did not want to be is left behind. Bringing up the rear was a frequent job for him. He was unsure if the two COs thought of him as being too valuable to lose or too ineffective as a frontline trooper. Either way, he was glad he was back here, even if the danger was apparently the same as being in front. He covered primarily their six, turning briefly to one, four, eight and eleven every now and then to watch their surroundings, noting any changes, searching for anything suspicious.<br/><br/>After moving up with them down the corridor, his peripherals sharply caught sight of the anomaly in the front, his senses instantly cranking up in gear to make sense of what he was seeing.