The captured guards were too busy coughing in the teargas, requiring the Lancers to drag them out of the server room into the hallway. Meanwhile, the gunfire upstairs started to die down, and Eberhard met up with his team as they put the bodies against the walls. His facial expressions was covered by that face mask with the element symbol on it, but he was visibly more relaxed. Still, he had his finger on the trigger plate while Jamison watched Eberhard's back as he approached.
As expected, the goons were deleting as much data as possible from their servers. Most of it was still salvageable, but it'd take a few days, a mix of software wizardry and directly manipulating the hardware itself. The most immediately available information was a text script documenting the storage of a cocktail of psychiatric drugs.
Mari didn't have time to think about the matter before there was a rumble that slightly shook the basement's ceiling, then another, then three more. The faint cry of sirens could be heard, murmuring, trying to reach everyone's ears. Shephard and Froststorm looked visibly on edge, glancing suspiciously between the captured guards and the Lancers.
Alas, one of the guards spit in the direction of Caleb's face, coughing, putting up a proud smile. The smile of a martyr facing death. "Go to hell, traitor. Long live the Commonwealth."
Then a white noise filled transmission came in through the comms, it was Ulrike, audibly panicked, "Lancers, we have a problem."