Dave's few seconds of time-freeze is more than enough for Cortana to blow through the security on the studio's systems, unconcerned about throwing up flags because it will be far too late for their targets to do anything about it by the time they notice. She settles into the computers, getting ready to play guardian angel from behind layers of the UNSC's finest and nastiest counterintrusion code.

"Green light." Cortana sends an up-to-date snapshot of the studio to the team's omnicomms or heads-up displays, depending how they're kitted out, with hostiles outlined in red.

And then she cues up Reinhardt's godawful song.