There's a burst of laughing that edges just to the side of mocking that comes over the radio before there's a loud thunk beyond Wash's cover, and the stream of bullets suddenly veers off to the side.

"Fucking hell, Wash, you're so dramatic. Give a girl chance to clear a fucking path!"

There's the tell-tale sounds of full-weighted impacts, of someone in power armour plowing their way through soldiers who very much are not. It's not a quiet entrance, because South has never been a quiet person. She throws at least two men bodily over the level's railings, kicks another guy so hard he goes head over heel, leaves a bunch of limbs bent ways they should not be bent.

Gunfire rattles off and the HMG tries valiantly to correct its position, bullets pinging and chipping at the floor and structures around their desired target, but before they can start beating down Washington's cover again the stream of bullets suddenly cuts off entirely as she slams her fully armoured weight down on top of the barrel and sends its last sputtering of bullets into the ground.

It's operator doesn't get the chance to do anything about it, because the operator's dead right after. Shotgun blast, always effective.