Scott nodded at Jan's words, swinging the M249 on it's strap around to his back, and making sure it was securely out of the way, before drawing his Mk.23 and brass-checking the large .45, and nodding to Jan and Wendy as he stacked up on his side of the door. He pulled his scarf up over his mouth, protecting against dust and fragments, before the shotgun sounded with a deafening report. Rearing back, the Brit put his considerable weight and strength into a kick to the door frame, and snarled as it collapsed into splinters, falling back into the room. 
He bought the handgun up as his foot came down, and moved into a loping run, following behind Jan with the shotgun raised, his pistols' laser stabbing into the dim, dust-choked light of the buildings' interior.