IQ

“Ugh, I need a new verdammt belt,” IQ muttered as she tugged her jeans up, covering the light blue waistband of her underwear. IQ was crouching behind an overturned table; her gun aimed at the barricaded doorway in front of her.

“IQ, are you there?” A woman’s voice crackled out of her radio.

“Affirmative, Ash; what’s the situation?”

“Pulse said that he heard something beeping in one of the rooms at the other end of the building; I need you to go check it out.”

“Roger that, I’ll make my way there,” IQ said as she stood up.

As she stood up, she felt a slight breeze against her hips.

“Verdammt schiesse,” she muttered as she looked down to see that more of her underwear was on display. The light blue waistband was now fully exposed, and the dark blue cotton patterned with cartoon sausages just below the waistband decided to make an appearance as well.

She sighed, tugged her jeans back up, and walked over to one of the windows so she could rappel her way over to the room where the alleged bomb was.