The squad, two pressed up against the wall either side of the door, guns pointing to the floor. They were all dressed in rich black overalls, gleaming, mirrored goggles that shaded their flaming eyes of adrenaline. Their jackets were littered with equipment; magazines, grenades, flash-bangs, syringes. Their helmets were sat on their heads, acting as a second skull of kevlar, stiffly fitted straps under their chins. Brooks, stood close to the door, wore a dark balaclava, utterly masking his entire identity. Bronte, opposite to Brooks, counted down from on his fingers to Brooks.
3 - Brooks' heart pounded against his lungs.
2 - His hands fidgeted and twitched with anxiety and his breathing slowed down.
1 - Brooks drew a small shotgun, no longer than his forearm, out from behind his back.
He pressed the tip of the barrel on the top hinge of the door, and blew a hole through it with an almighty bang that echoed down the hallway. Precisly, he moved the shotgun down to the lower hinge and blasted a second hole as the wood of the door splintered. To finish, he kicked down the flimsy, hopeless door with a crack as it crashed to the floor. The squad poured in after Brooks, bellowing with aggression.
"Police! Stay where you are, hands in the air!" Bronte roared. The apartment was like a T-junction; through the door, there was a wall straight in front, one way left, one way right. They all moved to the right, heading into a living room. It was dark and dreary, the flower patterned curtains ripped to pieces, damp growing in every corner like leprosy. The rug in the middle had it's lip folded over, revealing a putrid mess of rot, dust and dirt. A sofa sat at the right side of the room, and a TV blaring out white noise stood at the other. It seemed no one was home. "Damn it..." Bronte whispered. "You three search the rest of the apartment. Look for any signs of previous activity." They nodded back to him, and Brooks lead the way down the hall. They flicked the torches on their rifles, beams of circular light revealing what was in the hallway; cob webs, dust, pealing wallpaper and a grimy floor. It was eerie. The three men didn't know what to think about the situation. Was someone home, waiting for them? Or had they got the wrong place? All their hearts were beating against their chests, pumping diesel through their veins. As they slowly paced down the corridor, rifles up, there came a door straight at the end, splintered and rotting. Just before, there was another door to the left.
"Alright," Markus whispered, "we'll head through the door on the left first." Brooks' expressionless mask turned to face him, "Breach that door." He nodded back, ripping out the shotgun from behind him. Before long, Markus stopped him with a hand on Brooks' wrist. "Quietly." He braced the shotgun back where it belonged, and lightly clenched the brass knob of the door. His palm twisted, the handle was stiff and rusty to open, and the door opened ajar. He let go, tensed his right shoulder and rammed it, making it swing with force against the back wall. "Move, move." Markus hissed to Austins, following after Brooks. It was a kitchen, pans and colanders dotted on sides, food growing on them. Rat droppings were scattered all over the floor, spiders scurrying on the cupboards.
"This place gives me the creeps..." Austins winged, spanning the ceiling and walls with his torch.
"Shut up, Aussie. Eyes front, stay frosty." Markus spitted.
The group moved onward through an opening that lead to the bedroom on the right of the kitchen. Torches still panning from left to right, they strode through. All the draws were open, the doors of the wardrobe open, duvet and pillows on the bed, gone. Either no one was home or someone had bolted.
"Ahh - I can't see jack." Markus growled. "Brooks, find a light switch." Brooks broke from the chain and saw a white square on the wall that stood out. He held out his left hand then gently push the switch. The lights burst on at the click. However, abruptly, a torrent of flame burst out from behind Brooks, and slammed him against the concrete wall for him to fall flat on his back.