Breach Back Home

Morning patrol heading home. Sprinted down the corridor runner—straight for the familiar entrance door! Dropped flat on my belly. Hook first. Shoved my head under the rubber bottom sweep. Hauled hard with my metal toes—grr-scrape! Popped clear through the tight slit onto the polished hallway parquet. Home ground. Right by the brass threshold rested an old red plastic peg, spring missing. Impulse hit! I lunged forward and drove my curved hook straight through the hollow hinge hole. Lifted it clean off the floor. Carried the scrap two paces and planted it upright against the baseboard. Back inside. Perimeter reclaimed.