Frost slowly pried open the metallic covering with his hunting knife to reveal the various chips and wires lurking underneath. The Cubchoo noted the timer hitting the two minute mark. He took swift notice of the various, black wires being connected to the microchips in the control panel.
He lifted the case for a brief moment to examine for any outer connections and the serial number, which read, “#37B91A.”
After taking a mental note of the model number and an absence of any outer wiring, he carefully placed the bomb back down, only to realize that there was a little over ninety seconds left. He gulped, as he quickly began cutting each wire leading to the microchips from the smallest to the largest as fast as he could.
Charles watched the Cubchoo with a puzzled look, while continuing to eat his berry kebab.
He lifted the case for a brief moment to examine for any outer connections and the serial number, which read, “#37B91A.”
After taking a mental note of the model number and an absence of any outer wiring, he carefully placed the bomb back down, only to realize that there was a little over ninety seconds left. He gulped, as he quickly began cutting each wire leading to the microchips from the smallest to the largest as fast as he could.
Charles watched the Cubchoo with a puzzled look, while continuing to eat his berry kebab.