Huscarl looked over, as he stepped out the boat, quickly remarking to the team to push the boat in as he got on one knee, aiming down the sight of his weapon, his hand securely around the EGLM launcher, feeling very alive. Every hair on his skin was up, just the teething concentration that slowly and surely was beginning to kick.
"Clear. Bravo 1, on me- let's loop around, Bravo 2, get into positions and ready to fire. Silent shots for now, but remember my ROE." Huscarl said, looking at Athena, as he looked at Mischief and Praetorian, indicating with his hand for them to follow as he raised his SCAR-H, the digital blue weapon neat in his hands as he pushed forwards, going off the beach and heading into the sunset-illuminated forest.

He heard Greek from a mile out- the Altisian people still spoke it, along with English due to the fact that it was simply so prevalent a language in these parts and the UK's colonial history on the island in the immediate aftermath of the First World War having a direct impact on some. It was the AAF AA team, and Huscarl and Bravo 1 were keeping their heads low, moving slowly and surely, tree to tree past the dense pines that littered this island. The LZ for the bird was right on the beach, and Titan Site number 2 was in a tiny clearing, which Huscarl could pick three soldiers to be sitting within.
"1, halt. Check safeties, contacts 50m ahead, three AAF Recon soldiers. Look at them...shit, how the fuck they haven't detonated themselves is beyond me." Huscarl said, leaning on a tree as he aimed down his sight, picking the main operator of the Titan, the other two AAF soldiers sitting on the floor and smoking fags. Fuck, in this day and age, Huscarl didn't know of many institutions that actually allowed operators to have a light, and these bastards were lighting up right by a AA warhead, and a couple that could be loaded into the device that were next to it. Idiots. The AAF Recon troops weren't anything special, they had exactly the same kit and maybe a different insignia, and maybe a bit more training. But they were nothing special, nothing significant. The CSAT recon troops, in their grey hex uniforms, did scare the shit out of Huscarl, and reminded him something serious was going down. This group however, wouldn't last long.
"I got the operator of the Titan, Praetorian, clip the guy on the left, Mischief, the right. Bravo 2, this is Bravo 1 Actual, we've found our first Titan, we're proceeding to engage quietly. Clip your AA position, then move to a concealed position where you have a confirmed visual on the grounded Hellcat- but remember, stay fucking quiet, do not compromise this. Huscarl out." Arran said, looking to his other two operators, as he adjusted his weapon's stance, aiming down the holographic sight, the unmagnified reticule still accurate in this environment. The targets were close, but idiots. They had practically flanked completely around, and Huscarl knew that after this trio was dumped, they'd close the net on the helicopter crew, and deny any chance of getting the AAF troops to RTB and report hostiles. Since the helicopter was the only real long range radio on the island for the AAF, it meant that from there, the AAF troops, the soldiers wearing digital woodland camouflage and geared up to the standard of almost a modern army, would get ventilated when Husky rolled up towards the north of the island. 
"Okay Bravo 1, cleared to shoot on my mark." Huscarl said, referring to his fireteam, as he held his breath, going for an accurate shot just below the shoulder of the man's arm- where it wouldn't hit his plate carrier, and the two single 7.62mm shots he would pair up would hollow the man's internals. That was exactly what he ended up getting, except having to add a third- the subsonic 7.62mm rounds tearing through the operator of the AA tripod and sending him to the floor. The round had slammed through his bicep muscle, mostly skimming, and had punched through where his side where his body armor hadn't covered- after all, a few shots to the back or front would have done the job easily, but this was a guaranteed kill in a perfect scenario, and hit the vital organs without a single qualm.
"Tango down, that's that fucker. Bravo 1, stick close- keep a wedge, we have no time to hide the bodies so let's move up and set up a shot on the guys by the helicopter. If we're in time, Bravo 2 should have already cleaned their AA, and should be observing. I give about another five plus men holding the helicopter, so we're going to need to make sure the AAF don't have a hope in hell of leaving, or a way of yelling Wolf." Huscarl said, looking back at his pair as he moved slowly and surely up, scanning every angle as he kept a combat pace, his jog with the weapon stable in his hands something aptly suitable for this moment. The occasional twig snapped under his tan boots, the CTRG Captain heightened and aware that this was indeed, what they did best.

Huscarl led his fireteam onwards, moving up towards a couple of bushes where he could see the cabin of the armed WY-55 Hellcat- a Altisian development of the UK-used Wildcat helicopter, except with a pair of 7.62mm M134s and two DAP rocket pods attached the vehicle. It was a capable transport and attack helicopter, and was something that had to be dealt with.
"Get down, on the fucking floor." Huscarl said, moving to a pine tree as he came down on the floor himself, moving his back against it, looking over at the rest of his team as he got on his hands and knees, crawling towards a small gap in the thorn bush. He kept away for obvious reasons, but he had no question that if he had to crawl through about half a meter's worth of stinging shit, it would be something that he would do. For now, he positioned his SCAR-H towards a combatant, watching, waiting. The thorn bush was about hip high, and served as a good concealment, marking the edge of the pine forest and the beach clearing, where the Hellcat had landed on a dune close to the shore.
"Eyes on, six contacts, 50m again. Various Mk20 (F2000) rifles, couple of short-range optics, standard gear. Insignia on the helmet, I can just about spy it. One officer, the guy leaning by the helicopter talking to the two heli pilots. Looks like...Lieutenant of some sort, probably XO of this detachment. Bravo 2, pick a couple of targets, engage on my go. Mischief, Praetorian, we'll take the trio again, and then continue to engage whatever else we see, we'll pop up for a better shot over the top of this bush. We got them in a complete pincer, so watch your shots, and if it has a green digital pattern, it's clear to engage. Bravo 2, on your mark, shoot and we'll pop and engage." Huscarl said, checking the weapon, as he knew that they'd have to do something soon. It sounded like they were talking about the CSAT on the island, just how generically creepy they were, but he couldn't decipher anything that would be valuable as a local asset in the midst of it all. Nothing on an officer, nothing on anything. He readied his hands to push him straight up, and to bring the weapon to arms, so that he could shoot fully-automatic in the direction of the AAF Lieutenant, whose aged appearance suggested he had no reflex and was just some poor old miserable bastard on the wrong shift.