Problems with Authority Part 2

Knee-deep in spliced wires and thick cables, he stared into the monitor, blue light illuminating his young face.  His fingers flew across the keyboard, typing a symphony of destruction, slicing through one countermeasure after another.  Finally.

"Duchovny, it's Blackout," he said into his earpiece.  "I'm in."

He checked the time.  Four minutes off the pace.  Hatchet would be impatient.  The bloodthirsty merc had probably killed the rest of the team out of sheer boredom by now.  More likely he'd charged the front gates guns-blazing and gotten geeked by the security turrets he had just disabled.  The thought made him smile.