Richard followed the battle through the corridors of the dilapidated building, moving swiftly along with the other members of his team. As the call for suppressive fire came up, he switched back to his rifle, throwing suppressive fire onto the position with short, sharp bursts from the bullpup rifle through the windows of the buildings opposite, before Nikolaj's launcher turned the structure into more of a mess than it had been and the fire dropped off. 

He moved on, a slight, dark smile on his face at the effective destruction they'd wrought. As the door came up, he chuckled at Nikolaj's suggestion of a polite knock. [i]I like his sense of humour,[/i] the israeli thought with a grin, and nodded as he took his position on the opposite side of the door, again switching out for his handgun. 
The door blew inward, and the nine-bang rumbled its' thunder, and then he peeled around the door frame, pistol high in both hands. There were five hostiles, and he sectioned the room automatically as he'd been trained and drilled; one of the opposition was in Nikolaj's section, he left him in in capable hands, while his body worked on autopilot. The jericho kicked in his hands, twice for each target; one in the chest, one in the head. Reeling from the crashing concussions of nine flashbang explosions in a row, the hostiles barely stood a chance. Hands fumbled awkwardly on weapons, struggling to get protesting, battered and disoriented senses to align to fire at the uniformed invaders, but it was all too slow. The dark-haired IDF operator put his shots home with mechanical precision, grimacing as the hostiles went down one after the other. 
He kept the weapon tight in both hands, muzzle down as the rest of the team swept into the room. A few more shots, more movement as they spread out. His eyes fell on the cache a heartbeat after Nikolaj's and he nodded as the shout went out.
He stepped back as Crowstep moved in, and performed his magic. As he waved the detector around, he felt a slight twinge of amusement; the action reminded him of the tricorder on the old [i]star trek[/i] TV show.
"Reading, Mister Spock?" he said with a hint of amusement, before the Canadian made his report. He listened in, though still alert to the situation as the CRBN expert mused over how to deal with it, before he saw a smile creep over his colleagues' face. He winced. Whatever was coming next, it was bound to be... 'exciting'.