In the dead of night, the moonlight over the suburbs was fragmented by dark clouds.
A few strands of pale light pierced through the window, casting a hazy and eerie glow over the steel-framed and concrete factory interior, adding a touch of ambiguity to the derelict space.
A dozen elite members, wearing infrared night vision goggles and carrying assault rifles, were closing in from all sides.
They moved slowly and methodically, with extraordinary caution, like ghosts gliding through the shadows.
The barrels of their guns shone with a cold, hard metallic luster, persistently probing ahead for any sign of their prey.
Zzz, zzz—
The noise from the walkie-talkie opening the public channel broke the brief silence, sounding particularly piercing in this sinister environment.
The team members communicated with each other through headsets using short, professional military terminologies:
"Team One, target not found, over."
