Eberhard looked behind him as Jamison and Zana disregarded his implied request to rest and stay behind. Instead he put both hands on Renee's shoulders. "You're fine." He assured her, as he stood up to guard the hallway.
The rest of the Lancers will have met up with Froststorm and Shephard, their coats painted with freckles of blood, their gazes behind their goggles stony, emotionless. Froststorm glared at Zana's hand gestures and the flashbang in her hand. "Nonlethal? Typical Commonwealther making our jobs harder." He sneered, stowing away his assault rifle, drawing out a laser pistol instead, designed to permanently blind the target. Shephard pulled out a canister of teargas. Despite their complaints, they came prepared for such an operation, though the humaneness was questionable at best.
Through the live stream of surveillance footage, the room behind the door was relatively empty, the servers in liquid tanks slotted into the walls. Instead, the livable area of the server room resembled a lounge with a couple of desks, monitors on them and mounted on the walls and a couple of food storage cabinets. Three remaining guards had a couch blocking the door, themselves crouching along the backwall, aiming nervous at the entrance. One of the monitors was lit up with code scrolling up ominously.
"On your mark." Shephard made a gesture with her head at the Lancers. "These are your men."