The sound from another group came through.
"Roger. Maintain comms silence, proceed as planned."
Eitan responded. He gestured, and the six-man Fang group instantly formed a standard alternating cover formation, using the huge tires of several bulldozers and a pile of oil barrels as temporary cover, silently crossing the death zone.
Their movements were swift, precise, and smooth, like a Swiss-made precision clock.
Behind them, another hidden battle line was advancing.
The "Poison Fang" group stealthily moved to the end of a dried drainage channel at the southwestern corner of the base like moles.
There, a rusted, sand-covered metal grille was the designated infiltration point.
Poison Fang 1 crouched down and pulled out hydraulic door cutters from the side of his tactical vest.
The cold alloy jaws silently embedded into the grille's thick iron bar gaps. His arm muscles bulged as the hydraulic device emitted a very low "hissing" sound.
