[b]Tank[/b]

Sergey, after pushing the armored shell of his shield, and watching the other guy get dealt with in some form or fashion lead the way in front running past Silas as it is the duty of all of those named Sergey. His shield up as shells pinged and stuck to its front, with a small indent from where a shoulder pad had hit underneath the visor panel. His shield and shotgun filled with beanbag slugs being his main weapon. And after two dropped to being hit by the small pouches fired from his shotgun, his shotgun then became a hot club of the ornate variety. 

The first man to come upon the club was this somewhat smaller man who had turned the corner of the trench at the wrong time, spooking the large man into batting the man on the side of the cheek and dropping him, listening to the man crying below him from a probable broken jaw or at least nose, he took a sigh of relief before taking the mans weapon. 

"Pick up another and I will do it again, stay down and surrender to the next who come by." he said like a scolding father before tossing the gun back towards the rebels and pushing past the man to find the next man to bludgeon with his makeshift nightstick.