Don't need to tell him twice, Gordon. Voodoo's already got his weapon up and ready and is snapping off shots as fast as he can pull the trigger. The first shots do little more than stun the Elite, but that buys Voodoo enough time to put four rounds right through his helmet.

The Elite crumples to the floor, his flatline ringing throughout the room. Voodoo turns and sets his sights on one of the others, a shotgun-toting guard leveling the barrel at Gordon's head. Two shots to the soldier's chest and two to his head fixes that quickly enough.

"Clear left!"