And then there's a fwoosh, fwoosh of cold air, and a thunk, thunk of the bots hitting the floor. And another fwoosh to freeze the damn camera, for good measure.

A little bit of clanking and fidgeting around.

And then the buzzing starts again, and hey, presto, Jack appears around the corner to give Sinclair a thumbs up. Coast clear.

The bots appear above and behind him, jostling for space like a couple of heavily-armed flying mechanical puppies. They seem to have lost the urge to fill Jack full of holes.