O'Hennessy was on the opposite side of the building to Sgt. Mcfarley, keeping his M45 Tactical shotgun close and chambered. It felt strange hiding in the brush like a psycho instead of a nice safe SWAT van waiting to be deployed in the mist of a shit-storm. Killing Insurrectionists in the big bad UNSC, like some nightmarish boggyman. 

He watched as the kid with the automatic weapon passed his position, playing around with the he safety. O'Hennessey felt honestly bad for the kid, a child taken from his home to fight for some bastard hiding in relative sanctuary. The guy they were after was a top-tier scumbag. He didn't mind killing bombers, 'cause he set him own fate.

"Reading you loud and clear ma'am," O'Hennessy replied. "Can we honestly keep from killing the kid? I don't need that kinda universal karma bullshit on my back for the rest of my life."