Radio-head

They crouched near the entrance, he a bit ahead of her, she behind and not quite certain that she was ready. The radio at his shoulder crackled; he turned it down so he alone could hear the signal to go.

One minute. Another.

He turned to her and in a gruff whisper asked, “So you got anything coming in through that radio head of yours?”

A song had been spinning around, but she hadn’t been paying attention. Now–well, she had more sense than to tell him what it was. She frowned and grunted and jerked her head forward to indicate that he should be paying attention.

“Well? I know you got one,” he taunted.

She did not look at him. She glanced behind at the small army crowded in the corridor, alert to his signal. Fine. If he was going to be that way, she’d tell him.

“Send in the Clowns.”

“You’re kidding me–”

Before he could react further, the word came through the radio. He raised his hand and signaled to the team. In moments they were through the entrance and fanning out. She stayed close to the big man in front, directing him through the last hundred feet while he muttered, “Seriously. Send in the Clowns.”

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