S.N.A.K.E

As we strode purposefully toward the formidable gate, an imposing black military truck loomed nearby, stationed by the roadside. It stood as a symbol of both unyielding might and the uncanny ability to meld seamlessly into the shroud of night.

Our synchronized watches emitted a series of beeps, each chime resembling a melodious note struck by a young woman, perhaps in her twenties. Her ethereal voice carried across the comms, pronouncing our mission with an air of urgency, "Alright, team. The task before us is to infiltrate the enigmatic S.N.A.K.E factory and ascertain the presence of the elusive Xeno. If it does indeed lurk within those walls, our objective becomes the discovery of its precise location. Do you comprehend your roles, operatives?"

"Understood," I replied, though in retrospect, it occurred to me that my response might have been gratuitous, given the absence of any request for confirmation.