(I modified it in such a way that it still works as a shot for Bravo 1, or Huscarl/Praetorian/Mischief to alter themselves, so it doesn't interupt any continuity.)

Arran readied up, as he watched the officer and the pilots move around.
"Shit, that's a no go lads, they're round the other side. Bravo 2, take the shot, on your call." Huscarl said, targetting another infantryman instead, as he noted to his fireteam to do the same, readying his feet to kick up and give him the shot. When Athena opened fire, clipping the officer with a set of clean shots, with her team now currently engaging the two pilots and the surrounding men, Huscarl and his Bravo 1 knew that they had a different set to engage. 
"Cleared hot, light them up!" Arran said directly, the rifle tight in his hands and the grip stable, knowing well that though this weapon kicked, compared to a 5.56 or a 6.5mm round, it really had some significant power. There were about six men here, not including the pilots and the officer- so Arran knew that the firefight had to be ended quick, before it escalated. Though he preferred not to make too much noise, the AAF had no wide-band comms, and that meant that they'd be unable to reach the CSAT forces in time, or the AAF in any way due to it's nature. Plus he always considered the contingencies- and he knew what he may have to do if loud and unsupressed 5.56 rounds from their Mk20s were heard.

Standing up, he shot out three shots, the kickback hard from the SCAR-H but enough not to throw his aim, Huscarl knew that one AAF man was cleanly dead, before he rectified his shot on another. A few bullets whizzed overhead, as Huscarl cleaned up the second-to-last man, the SCAR spitting a few bullets into his direction until he was KIA- the exact of what Arran wanted to get, as he knew that perhaps the CSAT forces had heard. Moving up the bush, for a better perspective, one of the AAF men was still up engaging Bravo 2, which Arran put an end to, with the last three rounds of his SCAR's magazine, the 7.62 round making a mess even though the man wore a plate carrier.
"Clear. They fired plenty of shots back that they must of heard- Bravo 2, I want you posted on the front, keep a perimeter if any AAF two-man patrols wonder through the forest to the wrong place- Mischief, get the rotor sabotaged on that Hellcat, preferably quietly, we don't want explosions in addition to that firefight we just had. I'll "clear" things up with the CSAT garrison." Arran said, moving out and around the thorn bush, reloading the weapon as he flipped a new 7.62mm 20 round magazine into the weapon, cocking the weapon neatly as he pushed up, moving at a considerable jog towards the officer that had been cleanly wiped out by the 7.62mm round. It was a mess- the headshot from that round had really made a bloody stain on the floor, and even to Huscarl, it wasn't pleasant to look at.

"Sorry mate." Arran said, finding the radio at his hip, and various calls in Farsi on the comms. It seemed that the AAF officer here was definitely connected to them in speaking it, and Arran could already tell, something was up.
"This is Viper, we hear shots, we are sending a QRF to your grid on the south, how copy Sigma?" Arran heard in Farsi through the radio, as he cursed, off radio of course. He had to change that. Languages wise, he was a fluent speaker of Greek, Farsi and Arabic, as well as French as a miscellaneous- this was almost a perfect set of languages, and it was essential if you wanted to be involved in a group such as the CTRG. Though proficiency in one of the languages was pretty much essential, knowing Farsi and Greek helped in terms of situationally understanding what they were communicating.
"This is Sigma, stand down- some of the troops shot some rabbits- sorry." Arran said as best as he could in his poor Greek-accented Farsi, taking an educated guess it was what this officer likely spoke as the language.
"Fuck's sake, Sigma. We copy, don't let it happen again- Major Masood is very tense, he is very suspicious. If it happens again, you know what we can say in relation to your Battalion commander." The voice on the other end said, as Arran made a simple reply, continuing his accent of Farsi even so.
"Understood." He disengaged the radio, putting it back on the body, looking to the other two in his team.

"Mischief, the helicopter immobile?" Arran said, the weapon lowered, as he looked around at Titan No. 1- looking abandoned on the hill, where Bravo 2 had taken the shots. It must have been out of use, or just not currently manned by the AAF garrison- though Arran had preferred if they had at least called it out.
"Okay, Bravo-2, we're linking back up. We don't want to make too much noise, but we need to sweep the forest and identify an OP, preferably 200m out from Camp Zephyr. I'll go into the specifics of how we get what we want here shortly." Huscarl said, moving back to a combat pacing as he headed back towards where he saw the other operators- Hotwheels, Athena, and Irish.
"Alright lads- let's move up. Mischief, Praetorian, on point- rest of you- keep a wedge formation, 10m spread between each man." Arran said, the sunset coming down a little quicker, the light still holding but only just.