Sam Fisher- Training Traps

She checked the edges of the door and found no sign of sen­sors or boo­by-traps. That meant Tre­ble had ei­ther ne­glected to place any – un­like­ly, giv­en what she knew about him – or that he’d placed them so well she couldn’t see them on the first pass.

Lynx flicked down her low-light mon­o­cle and ex­am­ined the en­try­way more close­ly. As she did, she heard a grunt from Buz­zard.

“As­cend­ing.”

“Copy,” replied Ga­tor. “At the rear door. Trip­wire. Made safe.”

As he spoke, Lynx caught sight of the same thing. A near­ly in­vis­i­ble length of line at an­kle height had been placed in­side the en­trance ves­ti­bule, and she fol­lowed it to a primed nine-bang­er stun gre­nade, clev­er­ly hid­den un­der some de­bris.

“Same here,” she whis­pered. Lynx chose to leave the trap in place and stepped over it with a gym­nast’s ease.
...

He was with­in arm’s reach of the half-open door when his move­ment trig­gered the prox­im­i­ty sen­sor of a de­vice hid­den un­der a fold of rot­ted car­pet. In a fizz­ing burst, the con­cealed shock­er re­leased the full stun charge stored in its dense bat­tery core, hit­ting the op­er­a­tive with pun­ish­ing force.

Buz­zard’s mus­cles locked in ag­o­ny, and he toppled for­ward like a felled tree. His body sang with pain, as if he had been dipped in fire. His shud­der­ing hands clutched at the air and his mouth locked open.

He heard Ga­tor in his ear, call­ing for an up­date, but all Buz­zard could do was lie in a trembling heap and scream si­lent­ly as elec­tric­i­ty shot through him.

- Firewall, Chapter 1