(This is called a long post. A long, long, long post. And it's straight into it really- tactical maps should hopefully work, and I really wanted to give the feeling that it's planned surgically to every detail by Huscarl.)

"Shit, it's been too long Mischief. Take a seat, come join us. And that's fine by me Olivia, for later that is. I'll keep the rest of you here under Praetorian over there while we're gone- McKinnon really has a spoon up his ass lately. Like the Greenbacks haven't. either though, they really want us the fuck out of here." Huscarl said, as he looked over at the other operators, Arran eating down his food quite quickly since he felt like just getting something in his system.
"You tell me about it, Huscarl. You fucking spooks know more of this political shit than I do, I'm here to pack away all this rusty shit anyway. It costs more to actually ship it off back home and put it into storage there than it does to just have us do the monkey work, I swear logistics are fucked up." Patterson said, Huscarl chuckling a little, knowing that the gravity of the situation to him was very different to Patterson's situation. They had actively fought CSAT forces in clandestine operations, direct under intelligence command, whilst Patterson was just packing away with his squad after the end of NATO's peacekeeping in the Republic of Altis and Stratis.
"Yeah, but what can you do I guess. Anyway though, it's good to see you Zdislav, and you know the drill here after all"

Huscarl knew his team were well specialized, and he looked over at them, before then looking out on the seaview that most tourists perhaps had once come here for. Just as he made another bite, he felt his radio vibrate, as he almost instantaneously made a look to the device, quickly sprawling him up. The radio was linked back to his billet's laptop, and he had a call to pickup. One that the team had been briefed on enough, that Huscarl was the link in the chain and connected the dots in some regard. And he had no time to waste, as he almost belted down, running down the side steps of the metal HQ as he moved across the courtyard, quickly going into the metal structure of his house. He should have really kept his headset on him, but at times like these, there wasn't really that much of a point. Shutting the door of his billet, he quickly picked up his headset, already connected to the laptop that sat on his desk. This was an encrypted satellite link- long range comms were available, but Huscarl and his superior back in Langley, who was also in charge of Neptune, resoundingly agreed that long range comms from Stratis's multiple antennae at the center of the island were too easy to hack into and decrypt the relatively simple encryption.

"This is Huscarl speaking, ID two, zero, eight, seven, nine, six. Neptune, ping it back." Arran said, hearing the voice on the other end. Something felt urgent about this, as he walked around, sitting on his bed in the cramped metal box, the singular LED light on the wall making it almost blue inside with bright tinted light.
"We've got you, loud and set...well, this shit is taking it's sweet old time...nope, you're through. Okay, we're sending you the details, should take about a minute for the whole thing over this link. Should see the beginnings of this." Neptune said, as Arran moved to his laptop, quickly tapping away as he found the satellite imagery. Makrynisi, Altis. Altis was a place that Arran knew the NATO forces had long left behind, and though he knew that CSAT funded enterprises and equipment had allowed the AAF to have a disproportionately powerful army for it's tiny size, it was still significant
"Okay Huscarl, we've gotten back to you about our friend, Major Arshad Marood, callsign Sickle, that we need Husky for. Turns out there's a sub, we've ID'd in your picture, on the west coast of the island, and we've got confirmed ground intel from Seagull, as well as on sat imagery that the Peterburg's by that pier, with what we need."
"Go on. I'm only going to assume what you said are the basics here."
"Rightly expected."

--------------

About twenty minutes later
1225 Hours

Huscarl put down the headset, already checking the intel he had, as he shut the laptop's lid, carrying it out, as he moved quickly, already aware that the team had been waiting patiently, probably talking to each other. He looked up at the HQ's first storey, aware that his team were waiting, after at least getting to know Mischief a bit better, and wonder if it was a duff run or not on Huscarl's end. 
"With me now Husky, we've got work! Patterson, Baker, get on perimeter- you'll need to go to McKinnon later on my behalf, is that understood Sergeant!?" Arran said, already aware that he wanted the mess hall cleaned out, and his own unit with him right away. He didn't want them listening in- and though the metal walls were well soundproofed, he didn't want any chances. 
"Roger that!" Patterson said, in almost a pissed off tone that seemed to just acknowledge it. He didn't want to poke his beak where it didn't belong, and Huscarl had told him that very clearly before. Himself and Baker switched off the cooker, leaving everything as it was as they headed towards the Hunter, to get their weapons and join the other two of Vanguard One in patrolling the base.
Opening the door to the HQ, he walked in, hoping his team would follow, as Arran quickly engaged the projector and gave a notion to the last man in to shut the metal door. The HQ's interior was mostly bare- a few tables with weapons, but mostly the team's individual gear and a few wetsuits and rebreathers filled one section, with a few chairs and a whiteboard in another, along with a projector that lit up the screen. Arran set down the laptop, connecting it to the projector as he fired up the satellite imagery he had received, walking to the board as the team sat down. There was a lot more other HQ-y stuff that currently didn't really click in Huscarl's mind- this was the only real section that he knew he had to be in to get things explained.
"Right, to business. Sorry about the pace, but this is how we work. I've received word that a CSAT-operating submarine, the Peterburg, has sailed into Altisian waters, and is currently docked on Altis itself. We all know about CSAT and the AAF being bum buddies for a while behind our backs, but this is different. The sub's moored off Makrynisi- a small island in Pyrgos Gulf, and it is there we suspect that a certain Major Arshad Masood, callsign Sickle, is carrying a set of documents that we've been tailing for weeks, along with of course, undermining our naval superiority in the area. I can't stress how much this matters- and remember, it is in our operational remit to make sure that not one word comes out to any of the lads on Tempest, as I have mentioned before- this is confidential, and this isn't anything that will be mentioned in your service logs, or be given medals for if you end up having your leg blown off. I don't need to remind you this is wet work against well-trained Iranian motherfuckers day, not counter-insergency day. It is imperative that we strike hard and fast, and we get what we need back to NATO MEDCOM. Without this piece of information, we may truly be paralysed, and I for one, am bored as hell and want to really remind the brass that we're the finest at what we do. Taking the submarine out to secure our naval traffic in the area, killing or capturing Sickle and at the very least, retrieving his documents and getting the fuck away from Altis is the way we'll do this if we really want to stay one step ahead of CSAT in this Cold War. Believe me, I don't like the idea that when Greenbacks stop telling us to get off our island and start firing on us with CSAT troops behind them is going to come sooner rather than later, and we have the unique opportunity to know exactly what CSAT intelligence has so squandered here. Now, let me bring up the map and sat imagery, if you're not familiar with Altis already." Arran spoke, clicking the mouse to display an overhead picture of [url=http://i.imgur.com/cNoRTSW.png]Altis[/url]- the whole picture, to be precise, as he then clicked in on a new slide, which had been annotated by Huscarl himself already, for further referencing.
"[url=http://oi59.tinypic.com/11v09q0.jpg]This[/url] is our AO, and I've taken the liberty of making what we're facing a little simpler on this. From our contact, "Seagull", in the FIA, we know that there's a patrolling speedboat with a 20 mike and a rear gun going around the place, along with a squad-sized 5 to 10 man force of AAF Recon Troops on the south of the island, with an armed WY-55 Hellcat (updated AW159 Wildcat in RL) and two fixed Titan MPRL AA launchers in a small clearing. The sub is here," Arran said, using the clicker to lase the west coast, where he had made a rudimentary marking of the sub.

"And about 250m NE of that, is a CSAT Recon camp. We're talking grey hex uniforms here, not the regular brown hex their regulars go around with. They mean business. More reason why we believe that Arshad is truly here. There's about 15 to 20 of them, and they're bound to be trained well, so do not underestimate them. The sub's got a skeleton crew- about 20 to 30 again, so we can't exactly be underestimating them either in terms of potency, with whoever is armed. As you can tell, the AAF have A-143 Buzzards (L-153 Alca in RL) on standby at the AAC Airstrip with a QRF of two Hellcat gunships, and Camp Sagonisi has a large platoon-sized force, but they'll be slow to react- and our man, Seagull, is on the Faronaki peninsula down here, if shit hits the fan." Arran said, trying to put across the wider facts that the team would need to know.
"It's a potent force, and it's what we're trained to do best. We insert from the south, and we'll use one of the RHIBs, using the evening to our advantage. We're going to need our set of rebreathers along with a GM6 Lynx Anti-Materiel rifle spare in the boat, in addition to the regular gear- silenced weapons in our usual roles, and combat will be likely within 150m, so I advise RDSes and closer optics if you'd prefer that over the secondary sight of the RCOs. We insert at the Primary landing site with the boat directly, on the south of the island, and we move quickly to dispatch the AAF Recon team here- we kill the operators on the AA launchers and sabotage the helicopter, figuring out what there are in terms of forces through the forests. If there's too much heat on the south, we've got an secondary site of insertion, right here." Arran said, pointing to the SW of the island, where a group of what seemed like rocks were on the map- still consistently pointing out to whatever needed to be pointed to on the map whenever he made mention of it.

"If that is the case, I can only assume we'll have to take a very radical approach. It's why we may need to re-evaluate and execute this operation very differently, so hence we're going to need the Rebreathers and a GM6 Lynx, in order to strike a punch quietly and from a distance to throw us into a position where we can dive ashore safely. [url=http://oi59.tinypic.com/2r3c7yt.jpg]This[/url] is a closer look, if you need one. That Alternate Infil is our secondary approach from what I just mentioned- and hopefully, we shouldn't have to use it. The forest as I've marked, is likely to have patrols of maybe one to two men, with about two or three of these there, and since it's unlikely that the AAF are going to be radioed that easily if we take their radioman in the south, quiet shots shouldn't be detected. That said, CSAT forces are much more likely to be better anticipating and able to shout out if one goes down, so stray away from them for as long as you can if you have a soft contact- engage if you know that they won't react in time. You know how it is." Arran said, as he looked over the team, just hoping that somehow they'd go well with this plan. It was a combination of their elite SF training with a rapid assault and picking off units one by one. Going right to the sub would be stupid, as well as assaulting from the north. Cutting the AAF on the island off would give them time to really sneak up on the CSAT, and get their man.

"From there, there's a MQ4A Greyhawk UAV on station after the AA is cleared out- Callsign Spartan will be at 40,000ft for us to do a fire mission with, as well as make some quick recon of the situation on the ground.. We'll split into two from this moment on- Khukuri, Athena, Hotwheels and Praetorian will co-ordinate fire with the Laser Designator and the UAV terminal to ID Sickle's location, and then fire on CSAT Recon Camp Zephyr, then proceeding to clean the camp of any hostile personnel after repeated AP AGM strikes- giving myself and Mischief will the chance to get charges set on the submarine, at the propeller and engine respectively to disable and cripple the thing. The camp's around an abandoned house, it's very lightly defended with physical defenses but as aforementioned earlier, it's a camp for troops none the less."

"We will identify Sickle, either KIA or in whatever shape we find him either there or on the Concrete Pier where the sub is currently docked, and RTB with his documents and if we have the chance, him too. He is not a priority- if he dies, we don't fundamentally lose a lot of what we know, so do not prioritize him over destroying Zephyr. Once we're done, we'll retreat south and using the Titan emplacements, destroy any AAF airmobile QRFs that may have responded, before extracting with the RHIB from the appropriate landing site. This plan demands tactical acknowledgement and total focus- we are relying on being able to strike hard and fast, and we get what we want, before getting the fuck out." Arran said, looking over his team, itching his beard as he looked around.
"This is what we do best. Kit is as usual, and configure your weaponry as you deem fit. Athena, Mischief, you two get the rebreathers, flippers and the GM6 Lynx in the boat- Athena, you should know how to use that thing, it's Anti-Materiel so that thing will probably tear the patrol boat to shreds but make a hell of a noise. It's got a Thermal Imaging Sight on it, and though I wouldn't use it when we eventually need land, if shit hits the fan it's the most powerful weapon we'll have apart from the M134 on the RHIB. Likewise with the rebreathers and flippers- we use those only if we need to revert to the Secondary landing site, and re-evaluate how we take this. We leave at 1600 Hours, so till then, nobody leaves Tempest and we make damn sure that we're comfortable with the operation at hand and our gear. You're all dismissed." Arran added, looking over at the others, as he himself already headed over to where his kit was, looking through as he knew that soon, they would be back on the sea, back to work. Arran already had his SCAR-H, or the Mk17 tooled up with an old-school EOTech 553 optic, and a 2x Magnifier on the weapon that he could easily flick over, the EGLM module, along with the AN/PEQ-15 IR Pointer and R2 Silencer looking good on the weapon. It's adaptive/naval blue paint fitted the weapon well, the half-Icelandic, half Scots operator at least relieved to be moving. He knew his team would have this under lock- and his men knew what they were doing. Zdilslav, or Mischief, was a very competent AT operator, whilst Khukuri had proved himself in Northern Nigeria from reports Huscarl had obtained to be a skilled officer, and had to be his second in command as a result of the combat experience and the way he brought himself about as an extending aurora that resonated in the team beyond Huscarl. Athena and Praetorian came up very similarly for those respective reasons- skilled operators with a precise knowledge of both Designated Marksman and Medical roles, and fitted perfectly into the team. Himself, he had seen more than enough combat in the Royal Marines Commando, SFSG and the SBS to say that he'd seen a lot of walks of life, and that working in the CTRG was the culmination of all those years of hard work and pain that had given him a role like this- a clandestine unit of operators that would be instrumental in making a very specific change in pace. Huscarl knew his operators well, and had worked with them for a while- knowing their relative specialties and nature, to get the job done.