(Cheers for bearing with- the documents Athena's going to find I don't want revealed, because of important shit I want to develop on later that you'll like the sound of.)
(Also, Skythion, I may have GodModded a bit here, hope you don't mind- I think I got carried away with it.)

A man sat up in his desk, looking at the laptop. He was at Langley too- but differently enough, he was watching through a screen. A hugely magnified image was on his computer's screen, as he shifted his fingers on the joystick, taking the drone into a smooth fly-past pattern. It was high, 40,000ft up above the area of operations. The Greyhawk's AGMs were Anti-Personnel, with specialized Area of Effect airburst rounds- they would tear apart anything that was there. Bombs were a little too destructive and better for a leveling of the camp- they just needed to kill the people inside, and the operator knew what was coming would hit hard. Adjusting the thermal, he saw a thin white line poke out of a tree, right at the camp. It was just what the AGM needed- the faintest thermal signature was enough. The man adjusted his headset, quickly activating the weapons system on his specialized keyboard.
"This is Spartan, how copy?" Spartan said, awaiting a reply. When he got one, he kept observing the camp itself, aware that there were a lot of bodies on patrol. The camp seemed to be just one guard tower, and a lot of tents, with a hastily assembled briefing area under a camoflaged tarp.
"I copy your last Athena, got your lase. Fire will take thirty seconds, rapid shots- it should wipe the camp out, you'll need to keep at your position, or the airburst will tear you to pieces. Standby- Huscarl, shots are coming in." Spartan added, the drone turning a little as he adjusted the camera, readying his finger. He quickly sent four of the AGMs off the rails, right on top of each other almost in a spread of the area. 
"Munitions deployed, recommend you keep your head down, you can stop lasing now. Enjoy the fireworks, get that sonofabitch after it hits. It isn't going to be pretty..." Spartan added, watching on as he saw the timer by the camera's reticule count down, the seconds pacing away.

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

"Copy that, Spartan. We'll await splash." Huscarl said, looking back to Mischief.
"They can't be rearming and repairing here, there aren't even any docks in Altis capable of that- it's a stopoff for this guy, or at least some sort of secure transport for him and his documents. But we need to make some damage..fuck, we'll have to go in. Only real shot, plus I think that AGM strike will make a mess of that place. Alright, get the RPG ready, aim for the truck. I'm going to make a run for it, down the trees, I'll deal with the CSAT naval guys from a different position. It's the best shot we really have without getting torn apart right now. Fire that shit when the AGM hits, I'll be in a good position to probably take them. One mag and the GL will cut it, then we're in for some extreme CQC." Huscarl said, looking over, as he just knew he had to rely on the anarchy here to get what they needed to be done.
"I really enjoy this line of work, so I ain't planning on getting my ass killed. Good luck, Mischief. " Huscarl said back to him, as he knew that what he was doing was perhaps, a little risky. But sometimes, risk had a lot of reward, and in Huscarl's mind, the way that it felt weighted was good. Moving down, he headed along the coastline but within the forest, guessing that most CSAT patrols hadn't really ventured out anymore towards this side of the island. Since they had basically depopulated about a quarter of the garrison here without too much noise, Huscarl knew that the rest wasn't going to be any easier, though the AGM helped a lot.

Moving down, he guessed seconds were left. He dived down into cover, panting hard from his sprint, as he watched the men. Suddenly, all hell broke loose, as Athena's team were probably the first to see it. The small clearing with the house and fairly small camp was annihilated, as the first missile detonated about 5m above, the smart airburst shattering shrapnel over a heavily concentrated and insular part. The bang was phenomenal, with a orange hot explosion just above the camp sending out a wave of lethal metal bits, cutting the men in the tents and around to pieces. The second hit the house, a direct munition, and sent the thing straight down, with material and hot shrapnel following, the third and fourth airbursting above the compound and finishing the job. Men screamed, a significant minority injured and downed, a lot killed and only a handful of people somehow alive from being just behind a sandbag of some sort when the first one hit. The bangs were loud, and all shit began, as the Navy men looked over towards it, clustering almost. The splash killed Sickle, or Masood pretty quickly, the CSAT Major torn apart but recognizable inside the camp. 

Very bad move, Huscarl thought to himself, as he knew Athena and her team would be going in quickly, and finding Sickle and his documents. And for him, fire was all was needed. He didn't know if Mischief had let loose with his RPG-7, or if that first silenced kick from his SCAR had come first, but none the less, things on the small concrete pier had broken loose. One man took a bullet into the eye, as Huscarl carried on firing from his comfortable prone position, shooting two more before adjusting to his EGLM and firing a single 40mm round. The men were badly armed with Katiba Carbines that didn't even have sights, and they had no body armor or even helmets. Just Naval uniforms, and it showed why they were getting pounded. The 40mm detonated and took another two, as Huscarl fired on another man, quickly dropping him.
"Mischief, let's fucking hustle mate! That was one fucking boom, to say the least- get a new mag in, stick close!" Huscarl said, aware that Mischief was aware of his position, as he himself stood and took out another man moving from the camp towards the pier, quickly disabling him. Moving along the edge, they were within 100m of the pier, and they had little to no resistance. His breath was just about back, as he checked his mag, reloading he SCAR-H with a fresh 7.62mm magazine, as he kept the weapon heightened, moving with a combat pace that favoured speed over preparedness, for the time being at least.

The assault felt like was truly underway to the half-Icelandic, half Scots soldier, his boots hitting the sandy/clayish land below him, aware that he was giving the Czech member of the team time to catch up. All hell had let loose- shots could be heard across the tiny island, with the airburst and the RPG shot ringing in Huscarl's ears. Moving to a tree, he covered Mischief to move up, hoping he'd return the favor as he himself moved past the burning wreck of the Zamak, looking for bodies that held rifles and still looked alive. The dock was strewn with a few containers that covered the approach from the land, so at least that made for cover from fire from the camp, for the moment at least. They were seriously not expecting this, Huscarl said to himself mentally, as he looked over at Mischief. Crouching by a container, he peeked around, seeing about three personel make their way. Huscarl took two out, with one getting one to the head and the other multiple in the torso, quickly knocking them both to the ground in a short time, as he strictly reloaded the weapon as he would, before moving out.
"Athena, once you have those documents from his command post or his dead body, get out. We've got three minutes before the AAF have half a fucking platoon on this island, you need to get the RHIB and get it in the water. We'll keep you posted on what's going down from that, just fight like nothing." Huscarl said, looking over at Mischief, with a certain warface on.
"Like I said, I've never done this before..but if we're going to do this, we'll do it properly. Make sure it isn't seaworthy in any way, take out the engine and fuck, even the weapons room if we have time to breach the hull with that ordinance. That may be pushing it, but I can't imagine taking the propeller out being the only thing we can do to keep it static. I've got five kilos worth of explosive, might as well loosen my pack on this run." Huscarl added, moving up, as he saw the sub's hatch open up and a CSAT Navy man pop up. Huscarl barely got the shot on, but knew he wasn't going to be going anywhere, as he knew it was their shot, as he kept his combat pacing up. Crossing the gangplank, he was no longer on a concrete platform, but on the metal grey of a Iranian-bought Russian submarine, and it felt like it.