[i]"One."[/i]

The shaped charge practically vaporized the plywood the insurgents had used to barricade the window. Even though the blast had been directed inwards, and Zhenya kept himself well to the right of the window, he could still feel the heat seeping through his clothes and slightly warming his skin. Regardless, he jumped in through the window almost immediately after the blast, wanting to exploit the moment of shock and confusion among his enemies for all it's worth. His first target - a particularly well-equipped insurgent in that he had a plate carrier on - went down without much trouble, thanks to the almost ridiculously high rate of fire from his AN-94. One split-second squeeze of the trigger and already he was down six rounds.

Zhenya released himself from the rope and moved deeper into the room, giving space for Neil to follow in behind him. Another insurgent popped up from behind a table, no doubt feeling rather clever for 'ambushing' the squad. However, before he even had a chance to curl his finger around the trigger, Zhenya opened fire on him, letting off a quick burst which punched clean through the wooden table and into the hostile behind it. More men came in through the door, armed with shotguns, but it was evident that they had no idea what they were up against. They came through as a group, squeezing through the doorway, rather than attempting any sort of proper room-clearing drill. The squad's firepower turned them into corpses in no time at all.

Taking a brief moment to reload his rifle, Zhenya took a look around the room. They had to have entered through the armory, and that was, in a way, a blessing despite not having found what they came for. The Russian walked over to one of the stacks of weapons and took out a grenade from one of his pouches. He attached a piece of string to the pin, then tied the other end to one of the rifles. Carefully, he placed the grenade inside the pile of weapons so that it would be hidden from view. "A surprise for anyone thinking of arming themselves," Zhenya said with a grin that was perhaps more malicious than intended. He walked away from the pile, stopping by a crate of grenades. Casually, he pocketed one of the grenades to replace the one he had used for his little trap.

Zhenya moved to the door indicated by the captain, waiting for Neil to take up position opposite him. "Do not go in before me," The Russian said sternly and placed the charge on the door. Before pulling the cord, he knocked three times on the door and was rewarded by the sounds of people talking on the other side. "Blasting," Zhenya reported, pulled the cord and looked away to shield his eyes from any flying debris. Five seconds later, the charge detonated, destroying the door, and judging by the yells and screams, a few hostile targets along with it. Not satisfied, Zhenya took out a grenade, primed it and threw it through the door way.

"Go!" Zhenya shouted just as the grenade detonated, rushing through the doorway and firing off several rounds down the left side of the corridor, leaving the right for Neil to cover. Once the dust settled, a gruesome sight greeted them. The hostiles that had been killed by the breaching charge were practically blown to pieces, and the grenade had taken care of the rest. Those that were not shredded by the ball-bearings had died from the concussive blast wave magnified by the confined space of the corridor.

Worst still, there were several doors on both sides of the corridor. "Captain, we have at least ten rooms down this corridor. It will take some time for us to check all of them individually." He reported.

Almost at the same time, Medved came back into contact with the squad. "Medved here. Just got into position, encountered unexpected resistance, but took care of them. Take caution, a squad of at least ten hostiles were making their way up the stairs towards your position just as we arrived on scene. Setting up defensive positions now."