the smuggler’s bible

Small Pip

Small Pip creeps through the ventilation ducts when he can manage it, but—believe it or not—they don’t go everywhere. He picks an opportune moment and shimmies down into the hallway. The fluorescent lights split his shadow and splay it out in a star pattern across the tiles.

He keeps his eyes peeled in case the rest of the team has already scoured this wing. Specifically, he looks for the meter-long footprints and piles of unconscious guards Large Pip leaves behind. Medium Pip is anybody’s guess, probably he’s wearing a stolen uniform and eating a donut in the canteen.