Ivan's hand hovered in front of the hospital's front door.
Carefully, he opened the door, tactically breeching it as he drew his Makarov and AK bayonet in either hand; CQC would allow him to switch to melee combat instantaneously. He scanned the ground floor of the hospital. There was no way this was abandoned. It was too clean, too new, too smelling like chlorine. Sure enough, there was some group of Americans, huddled around another. One of them appeared to be fondling a woman's breast. Ivan had a poor opinion of the West, but this was ridiculous. Fortunately, it only confirmed his suspicions.
He kicked open the door, and stared at them from under the cold, reflective lenses the mask provided.
"И вот я думал, что я пошел бы целый час, не видя групповое изнасилование. Является ли она синеет? Есть ли у вас некоторые странные удушья фетиш?" he asked them.