Jan watched the car with stern eyes, still moving full pelt. Most people would probably give in, but SF operators, such as himself, Scott, Zhenya, Wendy as well as Neil and any that he had served with in this line of specialized work, would understand the reasons not to, and keep moving. The noise of the Humvee from behind was enough to make Jan almost burst past some of traffic.
"Right about now Scott!" Jan said, as he saw the heavy protected vehicle rumble past him, skidding to a stop as Jan moved quickly to the side, throwing himself into the back of the jeep, as he pulled the door shut after they had begun moving, already looking over at Wendy and Neil, who were already inside. Jan looked over at her, as she readied her Mk14, to take the shot when required, as Jan himself heard Zhenya on the other end, about what he'd done. Crafty bastard, he thought to himself- he had taken a wrong turn, but by purely making a traffic jam, it bought time.
"Neatly done Zhenya- we expect him to be coming your way, be ready for anything." Jan said, exhaling hard, as he sat up a little, looking to the occupants of the Humvee now.
"Pull a left here, that's what I last saw of the Merc. I'll jump up on our .50- Wendy, get your door opened up and get ready to shoot precisely." Jan said, as he barely checked his own HK416, already crawling as the car jerked around some cars, Jan picking the M2 Browning's holds at the back, already setting his Oakley gloves around the large caliber HMG, cocking a round into the mechanism as a 12.7mm casing came out, the weapon loaded and ready to fire.
"Okay, Zhenya, he's going right for the junction, they're deadlocked even from here...trying to move still...Scott, try the sidewalk, I see a clusterfuck right ahead!" Jan barked, as he tried to aim the weapon in the direction, not willing to fire until he had a clean shot, then opening up wouldn't be a problem. But till then, civilians could be caught in the crossfire, and it would get nasty- something Jan of all people, wanted to avoid. Yes, civilians would suffer, but it didn't mean racking up noise.

The Mercedes tried to wind past, and itself, traded paint, pacing as best as it could, but the traffic was getting worse. The vehicle wasn't going to move past the trucks, and it seemed Zhenya had done hist best, the lorries almost completely blocking off the route. But Jan had to simply watch, as the Mercedes didn't stop, it in fact, did the opposite, as it barged past a car, the chassis just about coping as the front bumper crumpled, but it shoved it's way through, headed to the front of the convoy.
"Shit! Zhenya, incoming, right side of the junction from you!" Jan yelled, realizing in horror where Zhenya was in relation to the car, as it tried to barge through. But the way Scott had driven had bought more than just time- it had meant that they were literally behind the Mercedes now, and within 10m. That was enough, and Jan only took one assumption, as to how it would stop. He had to open up, now or never.

The M2 Browning barked loudly, as the tarmac behind it was hit, Jan putting a few more rounds a little more accurately a little higher, the car almost deforming in part at the rear as the tyres were penetrated, the sheer force of multiple 12.7mm rounds punching through the steel like it was nothing. It wasn't a tank, it was just robust German 70s construction, and it did little now. The tyres buckled, as the car span to a halt, a few meters in front of Zhenya, as Jan knew they had to capitalize.
"Scott, fucking hit them! Eyes in the passenger footwell, they're going for it!" Jan said angrily, the car almost skidding to a halt on the destroyed rear wheels, colliding side on with the front truck, Jan taking a guess that the men would try and disembark, and run. Perhaps permanently stapling them and pinning the occupants would work- and while it was a thought that wouldn't be first and foremost on any SF operator's mind, the canister was secure enough to take an impact, and Jan only guessed that the men would try and do a last ditch attempt, and detonate it here. That, could not happen, and by any means, a bullet from Zhenya or Wendy or the front bullbar of the HMMWV, would be what was required. There was no point firing the .50 here- it would be ridiculously pointless, and too destructive, as well as inaccurate- it could hit the lorry and ricochet, doing damage that Jan didn't want.

Having wove and dodged through the traffic at speeds and maneuvers that'd get him arrested anywhere else, Scott ramped the Hummer onto the pavement, shouting apologies, threats and urges to get away while hammering the horn. The hummvee took out more than one item of street furniture, and crashed through a few piles of street debris and rubbish left by the side of the road, before he thumped them back onto the road surface.
The heavy .50 hammered over his head, and the SAS Trooper grimaced at the sound, leaning over the wheel as he jockeyed the accelerator and brake to match speed with the Merc as Jan opened fire. He gently guided the wheel, avoiding the debris flying off the back of the car, before Jan's words snapped into his consciousness

"Scott, fucking hit them! Eyes in the passenger footwell, they're going for it!"

"Hang on to something!" He yelled, and slammed his foot to the floor, the Hummvee's big engine snarling as it leapt forward. He aimed the ram bars directly at the broadside of the passenger compartment and braced for the inevitable jarring impact with the sedan.
The next thing he knew, the world became a cacophony of screaming metal, snarling engines and shattering glass, and he was slammed forward in the seatbelt, arms in front of his face.

"No, just be quiet and-" Zhenya began for the umpteenth time as he tried to calm the incredibly agitated local in front of him. The truck driver had been understandably upset and slightly frightened from being stopped at gunpoint, and although Zhenya did not really understand his words, he did pick up one word he understood: Terrorist. The poor driver was probably frantically trying to say that he was not whoever he supposed Zhenya was looking for and that he was just simple civilian trying to go about his life. It was a story Zhenya could recite by heart; nearly every insurgent he had caught in Chechnya gave the same story, and although back then Zhenya had reason to doubt their stories, now he was simply feeling annoyed.

"Stop your-" Zhenya started again when the driver stopped to take a breath, but this time he was interrupted by the Captain's frantic voice in his headset. His frustration turned to surprise when he turned to his right and saw the target car barreling straight towards him and the man. Behind it, he could see the squad's humvee. Without hesitation, Zhenya grabbed the driver and threw themselves back, just as the Mercedes crashed into the truck, followed shortly by the humvee crashing into the rear of the Mercedes. It was now or never, Zhenya knew. He had to act fast, otherwise the person with the canister might simply decide to detonate the device where he was. The Russian drew his pistol and stormed to the side of the Mercedes.

"Do not try," He said threateningly to the driver, keeping the pistol trained on him as he opened the rear door. Only then did he shift his attention to the dazed, bruised and scratched man in the backseat, still holding on to the device. He pulled the man out of the car and threw him to the pavement, causing him to drop the device. It dropped to the ground with a metallic clang, but it was otherwise harmless. The man tried to crawl away, but then Zhenya knelt and pulled him back up before slamming him against the Mercedes. With the memory of the attack on Grozny brought to the forefront of his mind, Zhenya clenched his fist and punched the man hard in the face, breaking his nose and a few teeth along with it. That took all the fight out of the target and he slumped to the ground, unconscious. It was little justice for Grozny, but it did for now.

"Target secure," Zhenya said and picked up the device. "And I have the device."

Wendy situated herself in the Humvee rather quickly, and before she knew it, she was already heading towards a window, hoisting herself in a rather awkward position inside the Humvee as she tried to get a shot on the Mercedes-Benz. This position wasn't exactly the best for a marksman like her, but it gave her a better shot and mobility than any other position, so it had to do for the time being. She tried to get a shot of the driver in the Mercedes, but Scott was driving too erratically for her to adjust to the environment, thus her aim was way off, unable to secure a proper shot on the target.

"I've got no shot!" Wendy exclaimed, as she peered through the scope of her Mk14. But before she knew it, Scott was yelling to prepare for impact, which wasn't a good sign. She braced herself in a whatever seat she could find, clutching her rifle as best as she could. Before she knew it, she felt a rather brief and explosive force. It dazed her again, groaning as she regained herself. "Is everyone alright?"

Jan simply braced himself, aware that if he was on the turret, he wouldn't do very well out of the impact, as he bailed back down to where his 416 was in the passenger footwell, back into a seat as he barely was able to brace himself. The HMMWV was well armored, but it was no tank, and it carried more than enough momentum, do do some seriously nasty damage to the Merc, as they rammed into it's side.

Jan wasn't belted up ,and felt himself be thrown forward, his arms in front of his face as he felt his helmet impact Scott's seat, as the Pole barely came back to his senses as the vehicle creaked a little from the harsh force that had been exerted, opening up the door, a little dazed and confused as he poked the HK416 out first, then rounded the corner around the armor-plated door, reinforcing Zhenya as he pulled the man out. He watched the Russian, as he threw him on the floor, and punched the light out of him, the canister on the floor, as Jan looked over at the anarchy, and the madness, before looking over at Zhenya. This place was completely dead and gridlocked- it was a nightmare.
"Nice play, Zhenya- We need to move, ASAP. Get in the vehicle- up on gun, but keep your head down for now till we're out of the city." Jan said, as he looked back, his sunglasses still intact despite the fact that they had basically crashed into a vehicle at a reasonably high speed, with the HMMWV built well enough to pull away. Opening the door, Jan covered, the dusty Polish GROM operator checking the car for any hidden movers, before clambering in after Zhenya was securely in with the device, before bungling into the vehicle himself.
"Scott, get us the fuck out of here. Iraqi Security Forces could be coming, and they don't like the look of Americans making a ruckus." Jan added, just hoping there was enough time. He had a good chance to get a breather in the car, but the crash had winded him to some degree, and he only now felt the real kick in his lungs of the air coming back. Already checking his rifle, flipping the PMAG out, he put it back on his plate carrier, as he flipped a new one in, cocking the rifle as he took a simple guess that if things went bad, then Iraqi Police or any remaining TIAF militants were fair game.

---

The satellite phone rang, Huscarl sitting in the tent, as he finally heard it ping through, to Colonel Sanderson.
"Device is dealt with, Colonel. EOD just rendered it neutral, and it's no longer an issue."
"Understood. Intel is getting a picture of the global situation- the Russians have promised a fierce retaliation for what happened in Grozny, and we've found a key military stronghold of the TIAF forces- they've been pushed to Arat Military Airfield, in the far north-west of Shirak Province, Armenia. In the lower mountains, but it's snowed over. We want to find what we can in relation to the manufacture- and this airbase is our best bet, so you're joining in with the assault."
"And the Armenians haven't got the manpower to force them back, so they're asking the Russians to join in. Kurwa."
"Indeed. A whole fucking brigade of VDV, Captain Bogdanowicz. We've bought ourselves some time, and instructed them to hold back until 0800 hours..."
"Jesus Christ. They aren't fucking around. Alright, where will that leave us, Sir?"
"Right in the middle of it. You need to get your sniper team to eliminate any AAA guns, and clean out any major resistance. Russian CAS and their supporting transports don't want to get their hands too dirty, so you'll co-ordinate gun runs and bombs on the airfield's main command structure after it's down. We've talked with the Russians, and through Zhenya you'll get those- if you're familiar with JTAC duties, it should be fine. Your way in is via helicopter insertion, in the mountains to the west, and you'll make your way down to get an overview. The snipers will be dropped in the early hours before you, to get a sniping position and get a grip on the situation."
"Good. Any friendlies directly on our end?"
"Spetsnaz, possibly. Though they're waiting for you, they won't act without anything stupid. They have other priorities in the areas- so it allows you some time."
"Great...well, time to go fill my lungs with mountain air again, and have to speak Russian again. So we land in, lase some targets for Russian fast air, go in and get whatever information we need, and then wait for the Russians to back us up?"
"We'll brief you when you get closer, but that's the thick and thin of it, Captain. You'll be leaving by tomorrow. Be ready." The phone went dead, as Jan nodded, already putting it back, as the black T-shirted Polish soldier walked out, into the evening sun at Kisik Kipuri, the US camp north of Mosul they had been at earlier. A particular anchor-type emblem sat on his shirt's arm- something that also was on his uniform in roughly the same place, known as the Kotwica. It was a symbol harkening back to the days of WW2, where the Polish Resistance adapted it as their impromptu symbol. It was what the first Polish covert operators kept in mind, and the Kotwica, or the "Anchor", usually sat atop a Polish flag on Jan's uniform, below his rank insignia. Many other Polish SF wore it, and many foreigners didn't understand why. But it was a symbol of fighting spirit, and after all, was a memory for those who fought beyond what Jan would call a regular state of mind. It was courage, signified in a simple image, that while a small touch, was something he remembered his former CO would always say, again and again. Courage wasn't a state of mind, it was a lifestyle.

(For the next op, Zhenya can have an LMG or Scott can- completely up to you lads. But AT though, and probably a heavier-end of the spectrum in firepower.)

---

Somewhere in Shirak Province, Armenia
0600 Hours
11th December, 2013

Neil adjusted his position in the snow, the rocky outcrop cold, but the set of trees around it concealing it well. Thing was, Neil's view down his Spotting Device was perfect, as the angle was good. The DSR-50 sat to the side, as Neil looked over to Wendy.
"This is what you get when terrorists decide that winter was the best time of year to do terrorism. Fuck." He said, chuckling a little, as he looked down the optic.
"Okay, it looks pretty fucking bad to be fair. I see three Su-25 Frogfoots on the side of the runway, poorly maintained at 1,100m, direct ahead, and two BMP-1 IFVs under a camouflage net, ping that to 1200m, to the left of those. Fuel dump is at the same distance pretty much, and that's further reference left, close to that lorry there. That runway won't get any fucking planes taking off it, not with that ice- so those things are practically immobile. Hold up. Two very old Kamaz Lorries and a BTR-60 APC, going across the runway." Neil said, adjusting his device a little, able to make out a small set of thermal signatures.
"This rifle will go through those vehicles like butter, but we don't want to go loud just yet." Neil added, as he shifted up, aware that they had been here for hours now, simply waiting, already observing. The fact was, they had to shoot at something such as that, it wouldn't be too hard, or at least, Neil hoped- the .50 cal bullet would spiral through it due to it's penetrative measure.

Meanwhile, over on the Turkish side of the border, the MH-6 Little Bird containing the rest of Lima thundered, moving with pace and skill that a pilot would need in these mountains.
"Crossing over now, were are now in Armenia gentlemen. We are five mikes to LZ Echo, check your seatbelts are done up tight, it's going to be a tight LZ." The pilot said, in a rather half-joking manner towards the end, as Jan, hanging off the side, knew it was probably the only reason he hadn't fallen off yet. He wore a variation of Puma, in a much lighter tone, the mixed greys not digital, but a fitting color on his uniform, with the ranking and Kotwica on the left shoulder. On this fine morning in the Armenian Highlands, the mountains they passed over about 1,250m in elevation, the snow had some good effects, but it wasn't as bad as they had seen in Ardahan Province, where they had just been. The Turks had kicked seven shades of shit out of the TIAF, and it meant that they had now had to go over into Armenia, to deal with the forces they had. This airfield, according to the last UAV report, had roughly 100 to 150 militants within a 1km radius of it, and from that, Jan guessed 40 of those would be on the airfield itself. Perfect, if the opportunity presented itself, this would be a fairly simple run, so long as they moved quickly down the hills to a suitable position. Jan had his 416 setup with a winterized camoflage, the ACOG a TA648 6X, with an RMR atop the rifle also. The M320 sat under the rifle's barrel, and a AN/PEQ-15L, with both a IR Laser and Light module, sat on the side of the weapon. A Surefire Mini Monster silencer sat on the end, and the stock was back to a Magpul CTR Carbine, pushed about midway. The Magpul PMAG magazines Jan used were still there, with a Puma-camoflage assault back, that contained the rest of his gear. A pair of heavily red-tinted Oakley sunglasses sat on his face, with a Ops Core helmet, painted a grey shade with a flashlight attached to the side. A aptly camoflaged plate carrier came into play too- Jan using the same one as used in Ardahan.
"Good to hear- Scott, check your AT is good, LZ should be clear but if it isn't, we're going into hell anyway." Jan added, speaking into his microphone rather than yelling to his side, as he raised the HK416, scanning the area ahead, as they brushed through a valley, headed to a small gap in a unforested section of hill.

Scott grimaced down at the grey-white landscape below.
"Fuck me," he muttered. "Out of the oven and into the freezer. I knew I'd get to travel in the military, but they didn't prepare us for the bloody jet lag".
He shut up as Jan issued orders and quickly checked his gear. Given he was toting the AT this time around, he'd opted to let Zhneya lug the support weapon. His camo again matched the environment, in muted tones of grey and white, and his Ops-Core FAST helmet was sprayed in a striated grey-white-black pattern with a flashlight and IR strobe attached. His plate-carrier and load bearing gear were similarly muted tones.
As well as the gear and uniform, he had thick layers underneath to protect against the chill, and a gaiter/scarf around his neck, and lower face beneath his sunglasses. Thick wool-lined gloves kept his hands warm, but still had enough grip and tactile sensation to use his gear effectively.
For weapons, he'd reasoned that one-shot AT wouldn't cut it, especially after their last encounter with armour had given him an eye-opening experience. This time around, he toted a Carl Gustav M3, along with a pack full of anti-armour projectiles, along with a few HE rounds for good measure. Laden down as he was, he'd elected to leave an assault rifle behind, and instead had taken an MP5A5 with a flashlight hand-guard, and a micro red-dot sight on a top RIS mount. The muzzle had a threaded end to accept the same suppressor that would fit on the Mk.23 riding in his thigh holster. Mags for the SMG rode in open-topped pouches across his stomach, along with smoke and frag grenades to either side. He'd also made sure his knife was suitably sharp, given the number of close encounters he'd had lately.
Letting the MP5 dangle on its' sling for a moment, he pulled the 'Charlie G' around to his front and examined the weapon, briefly but professionally, and nodded his approval.
"Charlie looks like he's ready to play, sir," he replied enthusiastically, before slinging the weapon around to his back once more. Like Jan, he too raised his SMG, and began to search their surroundings as the ground drew closer, the pitch of the small helicopters' rotors changing as it flared in for the approach to the clearing.

Wendy lied there in the cold, breathing in and out slowly as she peered through the scope of her M107A1, a change from her usual Arctic Warfare Magnum. For this operation, she figured she would need something with a little more punch and flamboyant power, something just like Neil's DSR, only just as quiet. As Neil designated the targets, Wendy mentally noted the exact locations of the targets, scanning around carefully. She had quite the amount of power in her hands, but it was nothing she couldn't handle. Ever since they deployed, her trigger finger had itched about halfway through it.

"I think we should target the fuel tanks first, so we can ensure those planes won't take off, and take along some other people with it. Then we shoot to kill everybody in our sights. Good plan?" She asked, looking over towards Neil.

Zhenya was not happy about leaving behind his AN-94, but the squad needed a light machine gunner. It had been difficult for him to find a suitable weapon, most of the light machine guns he was used to were simply too heavy for the mission, such as the PKM or Pecheneg. The best candidate would have been the RPK-74, but he doubted the squad would have felt comfortable with the 45-round magazine after having operated alongside conventional machine guns firing from 100-round belts. He had briefly considered using a western weapon, but had decided against it as it would take too long for him to get acquainted with the weapon.

His solution was thus a rather unconventional one. He procured a captured insurgent RPD from the camp armoury and had proceeded to modernize it as much as he could. It still fired the 7.62X39 round, but at the very least Zhenya managed to get the handguard and stock changed for lighter plastic ones, as well as sticking on some weaver rail strips for limited customization. A rubberized pad at the end of the stock was used as a makeshift recoil dampener. It was an improvised weapon and looked the part, but it would suffice for the mission. It was not like the quartermaster had needed to specifically acquire the bullets for the RPD; a quick walk around the arms and munitions captured from the insurgents gave Zhenya enough ammo for nearly six drums.

That was how he found himself sitting in a helicopter zipping across the Armenian landscape, his almost WWII-era weapon sticking out among the modern weaponry fielded by the rest of his squad. Fitted with an four-times magnification ACOG scope with a backup red dot sight, foregrip and AN/PEQ-16, however, Zhenya was certain that the RPD would function just as well as anyone else's weapon. He scanned the ground below the helicopter, though he highly doubted he could pick out a single enemy given their speed and the dense tree cover.

Suddenly, his headset burst to life. "Derzhavin, are you there?" Came a voice in Russian, one which Zhenya recognized well. He had been expecting to see the squad which had gone by the callsign of 'Medved' back in Turkey.

"Switch frequencies, we are using the same one as before." Zhenya replied, then said a short warning to his squad off the mic. "I have Medved squad on the comms. They will be patching through to our frequency soon."

Almost instantly after that, there was another burst of static in Zhenya's headset as the same voice spoke again, this time in English. "Ah, Lima." He said. "I believe we spoke before in Turkey. Medved-One speaking. My squad has been tasked with assisting yours with the mission, as well as coordinating artillery and air support alongside your friend Derzhavin. The TIAF are beaten, but they are far from broken. You will find them fighting like a cornered animal. Vicious and willing to do anything to win. The VDV brigade has already lost men to enemy raids and their assault will begin in earnest once it is 0800."

There was a brief pause as Medved-One issued orders to other members of his squad. "Anyway, we have secured your landing zone. No hostiles in the region, but I would avoid enemy anti-air sites if I were you. Intelligence tells us that they have been increasing protection and organizing quick reaction teams for each site after they heard that they were to be assaulted by a VDV unit."

(Sorry if I God-Modded Medved- I did want to get something communicated, though their command is still firmly in your hands Skythion.)

Neil looked through the spotting device, adjusting it minutely as he tried to focus it a little.
"Maybe...but those IFVs are a problem. They could cause anarchy, and remember, .50 goes through that shit. Just, but it will be needed. So jets first, but even then, likelyhood of them taking off is close to nil." Neil added, adjusting it's point, as he watched the sunrise continue, the sunlight illuminating the area fairly well, with a dawn that seemed to drag for a little while.
"Lima Actual receiving?" Neil said through the mic, looking over at the airfield with his sniping partner.
"I copy you, Neil. Situation?" Jan replied, looking over to the other two members aboard the Little Bird, as they eased in, flying straight halfway through a valley before coming down in a small set of trees, in a gap that would probably just about accomodate a helicopter like this. The pilot was talented as hell- but even Jan knew he couldn't perform miracles. He replied first, as he kept his weapon raised, covering any angle, the helicopter slowly and surely slipping in.
"Several aircraft, likely immobile, a BTR-60 and a pair of BMP-1 IFVs are potentially active in our AO. We pinged about 30 to 40 soldiers on the airfield right now, it's a hive and a half. Not many TIAF scouting parties, but we've heard a fair share of shit within 300m of us. They haven't hit a single perimeter mine, thank fuck. Just pinged two ZSU-23 guns, and a Igla installation, on the roof of the decayed ATC tower. Probably effective to about 5,000m. Well within what the Ruskie transport craft will be flying at."
"Understood. We're at LZ Echo, we're going to move 600m west to OP Nevada and set up a position to do some Forward Observer work- set up a shot on the Igla first, then eliminate the ZSU platforms. Only on my mark, Sniper Team. Lima Actual out." Jan said, as the helicopter came in lower, the pilot simply speaking through the radio to communicate his point across.

"We're on a slant, gents- you'll need to drop the last few meters. The Russians are to sort out your exfil, Captain- I'm back over to the FOS in Turkey." He simply said, as Jan uncliped his seatbelt, looking over at Scott to his right, nodding.
"You heard the man!" Jan said, as he practically nudged himself forward and fell the last two meters, into the thick snow, landing as gracefully as a soldier fully kitted out could. Scanning his area, he looked around, searching for hostiles, as he then realized what Zhenya had said, it beginning to hit home.
"Zhenya, these friends of yours? Where..." Jan said, scanning around, as he realized in his quadrant, there they were. The Little Bird was flying through the valleys, low as it was but safer than clearing it and possibly risking fire from AA sites, which would be a nightmare. The TIAF weren't well armed in regards to AA, but whatever they did have, it was going to be concentrated,

Jan guessed to himself that it wasn't going to be easy, not through these forests or when they got to OP Nevada- and this was why Medved was right here, on the floor. Medved One had his AN-94 raised high, the team scattered behind as they edged forward.
"Guns down! We're Lima." Jan barked in his Russian, as Medved-1 chuckled, looking over at his men, as he walked forward in the snow, his AN-94 partly lowered.
"And we're working with you, Captain. And you have no choice about it. You happen to have a reason to be here. As do we. So let's get this done, yes? The ridgeline is 200m up there, then it goes downhill, until a plateau where the airfield is located for another 800m or so. TIAF AA is all over the place, but they concentrated in the lower areas rather than these mounts- the bastards, for the better shots- and while we won't be able to destroy them in full, we can deal something with this airstrip."
"And what of the path ahead? We have a sniper team in the area, they're prepared to take that balance away on the airfield itself, of the Igla and ZSU threat." Jan added, aware that the two of them, himself and Medved-1, were both lowering their weapons.
"A few QRF and patrols. Nothing you cannot handle. And I felt there was something about this place, they did well for an observation point. It's your call when you want that balance taken- but after that, we must move fast." He replied, as Jan nodded.
"Yes. Let's move then. No time to waste." Jan simply said in Russian, moving forward through the snow as they went up an incline, to the top of the mount, before as Medved-1 said well, they'd head down and move through the intermittent forests and clearances that had been made by a combination of human activity and landslides, the slush of the snow and rock sometimes subsidizing on the more barren areas and leaving a set of fallen trees and random lumps of earth in the process. Raising his HK416, Jan kept his eyes open, as they moved up, slowly and surely going at a combat pace as they looked out for contacts.

.

Scott dropped to the ground alongside Jan, sinking into the snow up to the tops of his boots, before picking himself out of the snow. Again, the cold bit at him a moment, but then his attention was wrenched away as Medved made their appearance. Scott raised his MP5 in response to the guns pointed their way, but lowered it as Jan handled the situation deftly, talking down the Russian special forces and establishing the current status quo in the area. The situation sounded at least more straight-forward that many of their previous operations. Of course, the last time they'd been anywhere near this area, things had turned pretty hectic. The order to move out came, and lowering the SMG, he fell into place with the rest of the group, and began to move through the snow and slush through the forested landscape toward their objectives.

"Friendly person, your captain." Medved-One said in an amused tone as Zhenya walked past him. The rest of the Russian squad trailed behind Lima, content with letting them take the lead. The two squads needed to work together like a well-oiled machine if they wanted everything to go off without a hitch and if that meant Medved taking a back seat, then that was what they were going to do. After all, there was not much for them to do apart from just pointing out the correct targets and generally steering Lima away from enemy strongpoints or areas that were to be assaulted by the VDV during their attack.

"RPD, Derzhavin?" One of the Spetsnaz operators asked in an amused voice. Zhenya looked back over his shoulder and saw a soldier following close behind him, an RPK-74 loaded with a custom-made seventy-five round drum magazine. His face was covered by a balaclava, and a pair of darkened ballistic goggles covered his eyes. "You are feeling nostalgic today?"

"My base had no Pechenegs, the PKMs were not fit for any use and the RPKs lacked the firepower my squad would need." Zhenya replied bluntly. "An RPD seemed like the better choice. The armourer did a good job of making it more modern."

"An American, I suppose. They always seem to like taking our Kalashnikovs and making them more...How do they say it? Tactical." The Spetsnaz machine-gunner said, the smirk evident in his voice.

Suddenly, Medved-One stopped in his tracks. "Yes?" He asked into his microphone. "You cannot be serious." He said exasperatedly after a few seconds of silence.

"What is going on?" Zhenya asked.

"The VDV brigade were moving their assault units into position while withdrawing those which had sustained significant casualties in enemy raids. I guess whoever is in charge of the TIAF's northern frontier is a twitchy bastard because he fucking launched an attack." Medved-One said, making sure that he was transmitting to both his squad and Lima so all would be aware of the unexpected development. "To keep things short, the VDV's assault has, as of five minutes ago, begun. They are right now focusing their efforts on blunting the TIAF offensive, but I would say that we have thirty minutes, an hour at most, before the brigade starts to advance into Armenia in force."

(Queen is away apparently, so I will get a post up. Cycle as usual- sorry for being away for a while.)

Jan kept up the lead of the combined SF team, keeping his 416 raised in a certain combat pacing. He heard Medved and Zhenya talk, in Russian of course. And his good command could tell what he heard next. Jan stopped himself, turning his head like a Vulture, looking over.
"Fuck. They'll be dropping into hell, if those MANPADS and the ZSUs in the airfield remain. Okay, Medved, we need to advance to that location, double-time. Get the Su-25 and 105mm support we were told about online, ready within five minutes on our standby. We will need to launch our assault as soon as all AA targets, and our snipers have a good set of shots on them too. We need to destroy any targets, and then swiftly push in. We need gun runs, rockets, laser-guided bombs and anything else that thing has availible, on my co-ordination Medved- otherwise we will have to hit armor the old-fashioned way. And I don't fancy our chances if they have a BMP ready." Jan said simply, the Pole's Russian clear to understand, the similarity of his home tongue and the Russian he spoke interlinking.
"Scott, make sure your AT has HEDP for structures AND vehicles, if we can't level everything. We have no time, half an hour is not enough to do what we want. By the time your Brigade comes, Medved, the airfield won't have any intelligence left in any command buildings, and I know you are here for just that too." He simply said, back in a combination of English first, then Russian. His linguistic talents were relatively fresh, but they had to be, or else getting a point across would be far, far weaker. Moving quickly, at a jog, the team co-ordinated, they cleared the ridgeline, to the sight of soldiers right ahead. TIAF.

The men were wrapped up well, but only armed with Zestavas and AKMs, with an odd G3A4 among them. Must have been Turkish, Jan thought to himself, for only a split second. The rest of his mind focussed on what they were up against.
"Soft Contact, 50m, right ahead, five tangoes, TIAF alright. Engage at will, follow shots on the rest of the men in the patrol. We have no time to hide the bodies, we need to pace down and get to OP Nevada." Jan said, as he raised his 416, finding cover behind a boulder located next to a rock, aware they were right over the ridge now, but only just, and they had to engage quickly. Jan knew Medved had paced into some cover, and the rest of his team were practically in, so he picked up the shot on the man at the rear, already aware that down the RMR sight, his target was easy enough to pick out. He focused on the target, and with a single trigger pull, the silenced HK416 coughed a round, straight into the man, taking him down nicely, as he knew the team would have the rest, not even having enough time to take another target, though he did aim for the second to last man. The engagement was quick, but it would not stay like this- TIAF would have heard the shots, and no doubt, they had started the fire.

"Scott, make sure your AT has HEDP for structures AND vehicles,"

Scott nodded. He'd been sure to load up the maximum variety of rounds for the mission, with a favourable bias towards AP round, but there was enough HE to make anything think twice about crossing with them. He picked up the pace on the heels of Jan and the others, double-timing in their wake. The ridgeline came and went under their boots, and then Jan was directing them to shoot at the hostile contacts that had loomed up seemingly out of the landscape.
He threw himself down and aside into cover behind a low outcropping. Propping himself up on his elbows, he pulled the MP5 tight into his shoulder, and sighted through the red-dot atop the received. Grimacing, he pulled the trigger twice smoothly, the H&K Subgun coughed out a pair of rounds into center mass on the enemy target nearest to the group, red flowers blossoming into life on his clothing as he jerkily dropped into a crumpled heap. He moved to shift targets, but even as he did, he didn't expect to find one; the rest of the group were adamant professionals enough that the tangoes would likely all be down before he could blink fast enough.

The conversation between Medved-One and Russian high command was short, brief, and not at all pleasant. "Captain, the Su-25s are still loading and require ten minutes before they are on station. However, for the moment we have support from a battery of 122 millimeter howitzers and a battery of Smerch rocket artillery. Be warned that the Smerch's will be firing thermobaric weaponry, so call them only if you are sure that you need the area devastated." He said and moved up alongside the captain, with Zhenya trailing just behind them and the rest of Medved in a loose formation bringing up the rear.

The captain's comment about not leaving any intelligence for Medved to collect was unpleasant, but not unexpected. "We are not here to collect information." Medved-One said stiffly, sounding offended, and in Zhenya's opinion, rightfully so. Jan was his captain, and Zhenya was obliged to follow him wherever he went, but he found the captain's manner of speaking to be a bit too antagonistic and could not resist speaking up.

"With respect, captain." Zhenya began slowly. "Your distrust of us Russians will not make things go any more smoothly. Medved is here to help us."

He said nothing more, as they soon cleared a ridge and visually identified a patrol of enemy combatants. Zhenya quickly took cover behind a rock, just beside Medved-Three. The muffled coughs of silenced guns preceded the thumps of bodies hitting the hard ground. Although he hated it, Zhenya held his fire for the engagement. Despite all the modifications to the RPD, it still used an old-styled sound suppressor. It made the weapon relatively silent, but it still carried a distinctive crack. While it was not loud enough to be heard over a long distance, in such silent conditions, it would almost certainly give away their position.

"Medved-Two has kill." An accented voice said over his headset.

"Medved-Four reports hostile eliminated." Another voice said. "Area looks clear."

The tangoes came down, as Jan looked to the rest of the team, and Medved, before looking forward, then at Zhenya in particular.
"I don't like changes in plan, Zhenya. I understand your view, but you're in a NATO team, and while I trust your friends, deviations in plan always require more thought on my behalf. Just keep that in mind." Jan said rather coldly, aware that he had to put the point across- lest the Russian burst out like that again. He didn't care what his operators did, so long as they took out targets. But Jan never felt comfortable about Zhenya- he could trust him operationally, but Medved's appearance again felt wrong. It felt too repeated, and Jan knew you didn't let your guard down around Russians. They were dangerous, capable of things Western SF didn't sometimes understand wholly, but they wouldn't relent. And it was why Jan didn't want Zhenya to consider himself a bear amongst wolves, but rather just a cog in a machine. He was good- but he was still just a Sptesnaz Vympel soldier, in a NATO SF team. Looking to the others, he nodded.
"Okay, we head down here." He added, pointing down, as he looked to the bodies.
"Leave them there. Get a fresh set of magazines in. We are running out of time, Gents." Jan simply said to the group, as he looked ahead, aware the team had to go, or else they'd run into more patrols- and that would bog them down. They had to be decisive, as they moved through the snowy forest, the breezy cold not a worry to Jan. He didn't care about it. OP Nevada was not far, and all they needed to do, was set up there, and prepare to move down and get what they were looking for, found.

---

Neil looked over at Wendy, a smirk on his face.
"You know, at least we don't have to get our hands too dirty. We're friends from afar." Neil said, chuckling a little, as he looked over at her, then looking back.
"And if the Ruskies are along, I hope they tell them we're here. Otherwise, things could be a little scary you know." Neil added, as he checked the bolt of the DSR, then watching through the Spotting Device again, the small tripod-mounted lens bringing up a closer image of the area down below, with Neil changing to thermal, observing anything else that might be visible.
"Hmm....through the thermals, I can just pick out a few infantry inside that hut there. Through the cracks in those barrack huts, I can see half a dozen." He added, aware that when shit hit the fan, they'd only fire then. It was boring, but it was what snipers did- wait. And wait they would, as long as they needed. Till they knew their moment would come.

---

Moving downhill, Jan kept an eye out, as they moved through the forested area, with haste. the team moving as a unit. Though Jan knew he was somewhat a little at odds with Zhenya, he knew that it was petty- they were here to get the job done, and Jan knew that SF operators understood that. Even if politics got in the way, they still weren't going to murder each other- they all had little time to act, and tensions were on a high. Moving down, Jan kept his 416 raised, as they moved with a pace and flair that said that they knew precisely what they were doing. They had dropped down in the forest by a significant margin, and despite the patrols in the forest, they had made good pace, good enough to buy them time to lase and set up the shots. OP Nevada was a small pile of stones, another outcrop simular to what the two snipers perched under, but it was a little less pronounced.
"We have five more minutes till the Su-25s arrive. I'd rather do things by the numbers. Snipers, confirm your shot on the MANPADS and ZSU." Jan said, as they approached the site, Jan looking to Medved.
"Okay, if what you say is good, then relay it- I'll co-ordinate their fire as best as I can. We don't want to level this place, let's play our cards carefully, so to speak. Their armor gets destroyed, we'll leave the artillery to level the far end of the field with the grounded aircraft and the barracks, the ATC tower and the southern side. Scott, Zhenya, keep security on the left, Medved, sweep up the rear and right. I'll call it up when you say so, Medved." Jan said, aware that while the aim of the artillery would not be impeccable, it would be enough to at least saturate the immediate area, and buy them time to get onto it. Pulling out the laser designator out of it's case from the bottom of his assault pack, the fairly heavy set of binoculars coming into both hands, as he moved up to a set of rocks, keeping his lower half concealed below it. Looking down the designator, he adjusted his observation, peering down. already picking up targets of interest.
"Sniper team, pick up the Igla pod and any other AA. Prepare to engage." Jan simply said, as he moved his finger along to the squeezable button on the top of the device, the simple squeeze emitting an IR laser, trackable by an AGM and LGBs, to destroy whatever target was being painted. And right now, the two BMP-1s were right where he had his sights, the airfield in good view, yet their position just behind the end of the treeline insuring them somewhat. Jan exhaled, waiting for Medved to give the word, as he released the button, aware the system was working well, quickly adjusting the zoom level, as he looked back at the team, keeping a good cover. Jan didn't know what he'd do after this. Somehow, he felt like going home, just back to normality, GROM was where he needed to be. Yet this was unfinished buiness. For Gunther, for all that had sacrificed what was needed to make sure such a device didn't fall into their hands. And Jan was assured in his mind, that he'd follow them trying if he needed to.

Scott had swapped the mag in the MP5 as they'd made their way carefully down the slope from the earlier firefight. As soon as Jan gave the orders, he nodded and hunkered down in position, keeping the left flank of the attack covered. Currently, there was nothing to be concerned about. No sign of enemies closing in, and nothing otherwise of note to be concerned with. All the same, he exchanged a glance and a nod toward Zhenya, double-checking that he hadn't missed anything to be worried about, before turning his attention back to the area under his careful eye.

Zhenya moved up along the left beside Scott, his RPD up and ready to engage anyone who had the misfortune of wandering into his sights. Things were about to go very loud, very quickly, and Zhenya saw little point in maintaining a stealthy approach. However, just for the benefit of the team, he did his best to keep his noise to a minimum and his movements swift and as low-profile as possible. At the same time, Medved skulked up along the right to identify targets for the Smerch launchers - from the way the Captain had described it, the target zone was going to be too big for a single battery of Nonas to handle on their own, whereas a battery of four Smerches would be more than enough to devastate anything within the region.

"Frogfoots are in the air," Medved-One reported, using the name assigned to the Su-25 by NATO for the benefit of everyone else. "We have visual contact with barracks and the hangars."

There was a brief pause, punctuated by some chatter on Medved's end as they finalized the strike plan with the Su-25 pilots and the artillery crews.

"Okay, everyone reports ready. Give the order on your go, captain. Orders for artillery fire will be relayed by the pilots. We want to achieve simultaneous strikes here - these Su-25s won't last long if the enemy is able to scramble fighters to engage them."

Wendy took a deep breath as Neil made another snarky remark. "Yeah, well after that time I got shot in the leg, I think I'd much rather stay here instead." She said, maintaining her sight through the scope. "I really hope those Ruskies don't fire on us again, I can't guarantee a bullet won't go flying through a couple of them if they start fucking things up again." She said, adjust her position as she scanned around continually for targets. As Neil was beginning his reading of targets, she carefully rotated her M107 towards the general direction, before picking up the hut. Wendy sighed and held her breath, keeping her focus on the hut for now.

(Yay! All of us are back to it- I do want to possibly jump to Copenhagen straight after this, though that is subjective to all of you.)

Jan looked to Zhenya, nodding.
"Very well. Send it. I'm holding the button. Snipers, fire at will. Our fire is coming." Jan added, the laser designator in his hands firmly held, as he squeezed the big dial on the top of the large binoculars, the invisible IR beam parked on the BMPs. It wasn't going to be long. TOT was likely to be short, and Jan knew the explosion would kick through his lungs, even at this sort of range. It was signiificant munitions, almost a ton of bombs, guided precisely onto two armored vehicles. The kinetic force would just shred the pair to pieces, and do a bloody good job of this. The rocket artillery would be the worst- the bombs first, then the rockets would rain down, like hellish rain from above. The volume and pace of rocket artillery was the ultimate morale killer- it wasn't just the noise of shells exploding, but about fifty huge warheads over a wide area, any of which with a direct impact would ventilate a target. It was more than just efficient, to say the least. And when it came, the volume of shit that erupted, to Jan even, was immense.

In this time, Neil had adjusted his rifle, looking to Wendy, who had the M107 ready to go on target.
"Check Igla pod. Pick up the main operator...fire at will, Wendy, ranging and angle is all good." He said, aware that she knew it already, and the shot from the light fifty would tear the man straight from it. Setting up a backup shot, Neil waited till she fired, before adjusting slightly and exhaling, firing the second backup of his rifle to the man next to him, armed with a pair of binoculars. The man had barely turned, the faint noise of fast movers in the air alerting him, but not changing any positioning of the shot. When the bullet hit, he was thrown off, the force removing him from his mount, as the second man was barely able to yell out. The bullet entered his vertebrae and exited cleanly through his ribcage, taking out a pair of internal organs in the process, the overpressure of the round doing more than enough. Moving the rifle, he tried to find the ZSU, watching as the turret barely was able to turn in time, as the distant noise of close air could be heard.
"Targets eliminated, wait for fire...it's going to be one hell of a firework show." Neil said, chuckling, as suddenly, the rushing noise appeared to both teams, and anyone vaguely close by.
"Wendy, refocus on targets by the first checkpoint in. Range, 600m. No crosswind, it's pretty much dead. Squeeze when ready." Neil added, his hands clasped around the spotting device, already watching the few others that were looking at the devastation that now came down.

The bombs hit right on target, smashing into the netting, and the kinetic force of the laser guided munitions just smoked the BMPs, the two erupting into a huge ball of flames and scrap, as the ammunition cooked off, the secondary bangs from this. But it was nothing to compare to the noise above. The hailstorm-like howl just came down, the Smersh battery lit it up. It was composed of 300mm rounds, 12 of which would fire. And that was almost double and a half of the size of a regular artillery shell used in a howitzer, bar about all at once and far more inaccurate. The noise was hellish, as explosions rocketed the area, levelling the barracks and the hangars, as well as the Su-25s already on ground, as well as the hangar itself. Everything came apart, as the barrage stopped, and suddenly, brown, completely blown apart craters filled the area. Almost everything and anything was gone. A few blind spots, but they were done.
"Good effect on target, get those Frogfoots back to do some gun-runs. We need fire on my new marked laser, reference point, barrack station far side, cleared hot." Jan added, moving, as he waited for the Russian to give him the word. The Su-25s looped back, the sight of 30mm rounds slamming into the barracks quickly decimating and making more accurate what the previous munitions had done.
"That better be rounds complete. Squad, we move in. We hit the front gate, then rush the command centre." Jan said, putting the Designator away, and taking his 416, already looking to the rest that were scattered around and giving a "Follow Me" gesture.
"I estimate their forces have been cut roughly in half, numbers wise. But we must stay vigilant. They'll be like a pack of caged rats, so they'll fight to the death, if they have their way. Scott, on point with me. Zhenya, prep your MG in a suitable location to cover once we have visual out the trees." Jan added over comms, aware that there was no time to waste- they had a command post to search and clear, and he didn't want to squander his time.

Moving downard, Jan kept point with Scott, his 416 high as he crouched behind a downed pine tree, the dust and condensation of the snow and ice thrown up from the weaponry that had hit the airfield had the whole area in dissaray. Looking over the collapsed tree, he saw the checkpoint. They'd have to get through them to move onto the airfield itself, and to the command post, in order to breach through. Jan could guess that the Russian had a different location with his team, as he positioned himself in a crouching position, putting his ACOG's reticule over one of the hostiles.
"This is it. Weapons free." Jan muttered significantly into his radio, pulling the trigger of the HK. The weapon didn't recoil heavily, as it found one of the running men's bodies, quickly bringing him down, as responsive fire came back, hitting trees and branches all over, the AK and G3 fire scattered. Switching to his M320, the simple shot on the post itself quickly tore the weak wooden structure apart, knocking a set of beams inside to pieces as a few more militants headed out, finding whatever cover they could.
"Keep up the fire! They're running out of cover to use!" Jan said over the radio, emerging again to burst his magazine's capacity, taking out another contact in position by the gate, quickly clipping him with a short double-shot to the torso, the 5.56 doing it's job. In these cold climes, Jan still had what it took, and knew the rest of his team, like him, would match that. The small militant contingent of around 12 men wasn't going to last long at this rate, and Jan knew that they were still totally dazed and confused from the sheer volume of 300mm rockets, laser guided bombs and 25mm guns.

(Sorry this took so long- ideas melted away, so I think this works best. Great to see you guys still onboard.)