Midnight. Target: a four-story building. All floors belonging to the same residents.
Just meters away, in the backyard alleyway that connected to the main road, two inconspicuous vans sat parked in unassuming spots.
With a sudden slam, the rear doors flung open, and figures clad in full tactical gear leapt out in unison.
Boots thudded quietly along the narrow alley as ten operators advanced toward the rear fence. Despite the late hour, the surrounding neighborhood remained somewhat active—on the ground floor, elderly residents lingered, playing chess and murmuring over cups of tea, enjoying the cool night.
Their homes cast dim light onto the sidewalks. Hearing movement, a few paused and squinted into the shadows, catching glimpses of dark silhouettes—operators in full black tactical suits moving in a column.
