The Church of Umbra was, at this point, reconsidering its entire life's choices. For centuries, it had been a quiet — albeit very, very murdery — sanctuary of secrecy.
And now, the front doors had been unceremoniously kicked in, boots had stomped all over its sacred marble floors, and, worst of all, someone had knocked over a very expensive, incredibly pointless decorative vase. It was on.
The officers had expected resistance. They had not expected the resistance to start quite so dramatically. From the very moment they stepped past the threshold, the chandeliers above groaned ominously.
Then, with the subtle grace of a stage performer with too much free time, they detached and came plummeting down like divine retribution.
"Traps! Move!" bellowed the lead officer as his team scattered. One officer performed an elegant forward roll; another went for the classic 'sprint while screaming internally' maneuver.
