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entering straight onto automatic gunfire. There wouldn't even be a need to aim.
    BANG, BANG, BANG, Conan blew the hinges off the door and stepped to one side to allow his colleagues unobstructed access to the room. Watching the last hinge fly off, Marriot and Moore braced themselves before charging into the kitchen. As they did, Jennings pulled the trigger on his assault rifle and sprayed a wall of bullets at the doorway, timed to perfection.
    The first 7.62 round went straight into Marriot's left leg and tore through his femoral artery whilst the second, third and fourth sliced through his protective ballistic vest. Stumbling for a couple of footsteps, he then fell lifelessly to the floor. Directly behind him Moore felt a searing pain as a bullet entered his right shoulder and came out of his back. A split second later he felt another huge impact as a second bullet hit him square in the chest, smashing the extra ceramic plate that was housed inside his ballistic vest. Moore's MP5 dropped to the ground as he landed on his side with 7.62 rounds peppering the walls above him, covering his face and body in plaster and brick dust. Outside the room Conan stood frozen as he hugged the wall, trying desperately to shield his huge body from the hail of bullets coming towards him. Inside the room there was a sudden silence. Jennings opened his eyes and looked down at his rifle which had ceased firing after running out of rounds.
    There was no way Conan was going to let him reload to finish off him or his downed colleagues. As Jennings hurriedly to grab another full magazine clip, Conan spun on the door frame so that he and his Benelli shotgun were pointing into the room and fired one shot from it; it was all that was needed. The solid Hatton slug exploded out from the barrel of the shot gun, leaving in its wake a mixture of flame and smoke as it hurtled rapidly towards its target.
    The solid metal slug slammed into Jennings right arm with a force akin to a freight train, dumping all of its kinetic energy into him and sending a huge chunk of bloodied flesh into the air. Jennings fell to the floor letting out a banshee like scream of pain. Conan charged into the room, stepping over the strewn out bodies of his colleagues towards Jennings who was prostrate behind the kitchen table crying and clutching the shredded flesh that was his right arm. Conan squeezed the handle of shotgun with his right hand at the same time ripping off his helmet and mask with his left. This little bastard had just shot his friends, and maybe killed them, he needed to pay.
    Collins, after hearing the sound of automatic gunfire followed by screams, yelled at Jones to locate and support Marriot as he and Palmer continued to cover the four prostrate and terrified terrorists in the front room. Jones nodded and then moved through the downstairs as quickly as possible whilst still scanning for danger, if he missed a threat and was taken out he wouldn't be able to help anyone. He arrived outside the kitchen and was met by what looked like a hundred bullet holes in the wall opposite and screams from within.
    Jones stacked up against the door frame, took a deep breath and rapidly entered the kitchen. As his eyes scanned for threats he saw the sight of Marriot and Moore covered in blood and lying perfectly still six feet into the room. Remaining as professional as he could, Jones continued to assess the rest of the room in less than two seconds before his focus fixed onto Conan who was towering over a whimpering Jennings.
    Seeing that Conan had Jennings covered, he peered down at his fallen colleagues once again. Unable to deal with the shock of the sight that greeted him, he vomited inside his respirator. Struggling to breath and see, he ripped of his mask and fell to his knees as he sucked in a massive lungful of air before composing himself; it was time to man up and help them.
    “Check them! Please, please check them!” Conan said with a trembling voice that soon