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The fluorescent hum buzzes low in the corridor, broken only by the distant clatter of a serving tray in the cafeteria. Through a reinforced window, snow drifts lazily past the exterior lights, blanketing the world outside in white silence. At the four-way intersection, a figure in navy camo stands frozen before the site map, one gloved hand pressed against the glass. The XM-250 hangs loose at his side. He turns, and teal eyes meet yours. "You know which way to Keter containment?"