Giving Hayden a lift, he threw the man up, taking his hand once he was up and following him up before reaching down and pulling up Beth, then Yekatarina as they all clambered into the compound.

Beth dropped down, shouldering her weapon in the darkness of the compound, the place having a foul smell that filled the air, that of bodies, rotting and general death. A nasty smell, given Beth had been around it a lot, but here, it felt even more foul, lacking the traditional smell of disinfectant that normally paired it when she worked as a combat paramedic, let alone this. 
"I'm thinking they might be scared enough of her they won't shoot her if we took her hostage. If it comes to that. We'll still slit her throat anyway. All things considered, probably a better way to go..." Beth remarked back to Yekatarina, as she got into position.
"Or find us an exit, Beth. Some way out. Explosives, a gate, something to get us out quickly." Sean replied, Beth taking his suggestion half seriously as she was aware that as much as taking a hostage could work, the risks were significant too. No doubt Hayden would see red again, and she almost had to count on it. Whatever was inside him, he had some screw loose, that was for sure.

"Understood, Hayden. Give them hell once he's out." The Welshwoman only retorted, picking up her aim, and steadying her shot, put him right in centre in the iron sight. With a gentle pull of the FNC's trigger, the 5.56 round flew through his skull, the distance minimal and the shot easy to make, and the man and his SKS fell like a sack of potatoes from his position, the shitshow now about to fully begin.

On that one, Sean paced himself in, moving quick on feet and turning the corner, a couple of thugs popping out into the yard. The FAL was a weapon with usually significant recoil but in this case he could keep well on target, pinning the first man with a headshot, and the other with two more rounds, quickly tapping them with his superior marksmanship compared to their thuggish attachment to their AKMs, the 7.62mm round a brutalist, horrid one. This wasn't a round designed to maim and stay controlled, like an intermediate round, it didn't give a shit much for body armour either because it hit like a train, as he ran by them, snagging a couple of grenades off their belt, a pair of very rusty and shitty looking F1 Frags, but a nice contingency, just in case.

Sean had nothing to add to that statement of fire as he kept moving on the right, Beth moving on her sector on the centre, a few more skinnies running out and laying out sporadic, spread fire, as she skidded into cover, letting them dump their mags inaccurately, before pinning a shot out, dropping one before getting back in, swinging another mag into place. She leaned back and gently tapped the other guy in the stomach, tapping once again in the chest, before moving out, two more skinnies quickly recieving the rest of the mag as she dumped it into them, slow and methodical against their fast and reactive. Her heart rate was pounding, pulsating, as she knew what was coming was going to be terrifying. 

"Hayden, Sean, she's all yours, do what you have to do to the bitch!" Beth yelled out, keeping her area covered, Sean moving by her side and towards the door with Melani behind it with her covering the flank, the woman they were hunting no longer visible by her CRT screen- though Sean couldn't tell if she had moved inside. Standing by the door, Sean looked across to him, and gave him a look that more or less said all the Ulsterman felt. They weren't leaving the room without her dead, because it had been long enough a day, and night now to turn back.
"We're not breaching for hostages, Hayden, everyone in that room's gonna fuckin' die. Kick that door, frag goes in, we go in and anyone left standing gets however much lead you have in that Bren." Sean didn't look unhinged, but the Irish drawl and his attitude was now gone now the gunfire had began, and he was just out of fucks to give now. Whatever soldiering morality had been inside of him was gone, it had been perhaps for longer than he'd let on, and he was more than willing to trade his soul, what was left for it, for a ticket out of this shithole. Sleep, a ride out of town, some trace of the next job to find the bastard that had meant they were their, freedom, all of it, right now, he was gonna take that if it meant they had to do something awful. Not what he signed up to, but neither was leaving this place on a crucifix.