Jarek was thankful for the armored hull of the grotesque vehicle that protected them as they moved through the sorry ruin that was once a city. The woefully worn out road reminded him of Czech Republic and his mind drifted back into the days of AČR when he was hunched up inside the Pandur II, knowing full well what a barely amphibious abomination it was, emphasis on the MRAP that amplified the force of the blast. He slid a fresh magazine into his rifle and pressed the thumb release. The rifle produced a reassuring click. Jarek flipped the magnifier off and checked his sight. The 416 was also an improvement over the 601st usual M4A1 or, god forbid, the CZ 805. All in all, their current situation was a lot better. His name being said out loud interrupted his train of thoughts. [i]Out and across the road[/i], simple enough. [i]Get to hard cover[/i]. He did not need to be told that. The .50 started its monotone chant of pain and anguish, muffled by the vehicle until Nikolaj opened the door.

Jarek followed Oakley out of the vehicle, briefly looked around himself and dashed across the street, straight for the nearest piece of valid cover. He ducked beside a piece of low wall, switched his rifle to semi and took a more thorough look at their surroundings. A dark figure wearing a light shirt and shorts, the unmistakable shape of a rifle in his hands, moved in the corner of his view. He squeezed the trigger twice, one in the chest, one in the shoulder. [i]“I’m off.”[/i] he thought and shifted his grip on the weapon. Another one poke out of his hole. Two more rounds, and another skinny bit the bullet. [i]“Better”[/i] He took no pleasure in killing, but didn’t shed any tears about the Somalis either.

"Technical, nine o'clock! Lay it out!"

Jarek looked over his shoulder to see where the thing actually was and moved to his left to maximize cover between him and the vehicle. Someone else would have to deal with it, this was out of his league. He turned back to the surrounding area, his attention now divided between the technical and the regular skinnies. A black head popped up over something that used to be a wall. Jarek quickly aimed, but the target hid again before either of them could fire. His 416 spat out two rounds just for good measure and then moved to other targets.

A bang indicated the technical’s demise. Jarek looked over his shoulder one more time to confirm it and was greeted with the sight of a bullet-filled, now abandoned vehicle. With this issue dealt with, Jarek formed up for entry and followed the team. Crowstep stopped just behind the first door. “Alright, door left. Check it.” Jarek tilted the weapon to the right and checked his ammo through the window on the side of the PMAG and drew a breath. “Ready.”