Mischief slowly flicked his rifle to it's two-round burst fire mode. With Bravo 2 possibly directly opposite him, he was going to have to place his shots very carefully. While he did not exactly spray-and-pray in the previous engagement, he was pretty sure that two out of his four bullets did not hit his target and instead missed their mark by a few centimeters. "Moving up, sir. The bush in front of me is blocking the view." He said in a whisper-quiet voice as he slowly crawled forward and to the right. He angled himself so that while he had a clear line of fire, his body was largely concealed by the bush.

"In position and awaiting your go." Mischief reported as he took aim at an enemy trooper walking to and fro, tracking his every movement.

Linn peered at his target through the thorns and thumbed his weapon’s selector switch to “A”. Only 50 meters away, so putting a burst into his chest wouldn't be difficult. This engagement would be over in only a moment, and all they had to worry about was a hostile reflexively pulling the trigger of their weapon when they died, alerting the island. He lined up his shot through the thorn bush, his finger hovering just off the trigger.
“Staying low, not a bad shot.” His sight wasn't too obscured by the thorn bush, and not having to leap to his feet would keep his shots precise and steady. He watched his oblivious target through the rifle optic, waiting for Bravo 2 to engage their targets.

Athena nodded and broke off from Bravo 1, signaling for her squad to come follow her. She crouched over and maneuvered through the terrain like an expert, slipping through the various shrubbery without creating as much disturbance as possible. The goal was to be like a snake, and reduce the amount of movement in the shrubbery as possible. Although there was probably a better way to maneuver through all these plants, it probably wouldn't give her a better shot on the tangos. Eventually, they made it up on top of a hill, and decided to stay there. Irish was right about this, this was an excellent view.

"Bravo 2, in position.." She said calmly, as she took her Mk18, and peered through the scope. She decided to target the Officer looking person, with the insignia and all. She steadied her aim and slowed her breathing down as much as possible, waiting for the go to fire. Once Huscarl gave the go, she made sure she was ready, and then pulled the trigger, hitting her target spot in the head.

Irish kept close to his team leader as Bravo 2 moved up on the hill, he followed and set himself upon the hill, taking a knee and setting his rifle on his knee then aiming down the sights. He targeted one of the men on near the officer and heard Athena take a shot, instinctively his finger clenched and he saw the head of the man snap back. He let out a breath and looked towards the officer who had been downed, he looked closer and noticed the mans skull had been ruptured by her shot.

(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.

At Huscarl's go, Mischief opened fire on his target, aiming for center mass. The silenced CZ-805 spat out two rounds in rapid succession. The first tore through his target's heart while the second probably punctured a lung. Suffice to say, his target was dead before his body even hit the ground. Mischief had been expecting the whole thing to go smoothly, but when the enemy started firing back, he realized that things had obviously not gone according to plan. He stood up and moved towards a stack of crates just to the left of the helicopter's tail rotor, firing at the enemy as he moved.

The enemy seemed to be preoccupied with Bravo 2, and that was fine by Mischief. He fired two rounds into an enemy soldier just as he was about to turn around. Both rounds struck his stomach and he went down quick. Just to be sure, and remembering Huscarl's order to take no prisoners, Mischief fired two more shots into the soldier as he writhed in pain on the ground. It was not something Mischief felt proud of, but orders were orders and besides, if he didn't finish the enemy soldier off, he would have died a slow and painful death from a stomach wound.

The firefight didn't last long, but Mischief was quite certain that someone must have heard all that gunfire. "Understood," He said in response to Huscarl's orders, saying it in a nonchalant tone, as if having to sabotage a helicopter quietly was something he did everyday. Mischief looked around, hoping to find power tools of any kind. The only thing that he found that was close was an impact wrench hooked up to a pair of compressed air tanks. It was about as basic as things got, and if the tanks were empty or the wrench was broken, then Mischief was going to have to improvise.

He knelt and picked up the wrench, giving the trigger a few squeezes. Much to his relief, the head spun with a high-pitched whirring sound. In the silence of the night, it was bound to be carried for a long distance, but he hoped that the other enemy forces would simply assume that maintenance was being done on the helicopter. He climbed onto the top of the helicopter and looked at what he had to work with. It was unlikely he would be able to open up the engine, so Mischief quickly dropped all notions of him sabotaging the internal mechanisms. However, he noticed that the area around the axle of the main rotor was open and that gave him a few ideas.

He placed his pack on the engine cowling and unzipped it, pulling out a short length of black wire. Then, he took out a grenade and tied one end of the wire around the pin, then tied the other end around one of the pitch control rods of the main rotor. Carefully, he stuffed the grenade in as far and as securely as he could. To be safe, he repeated the procedure, except this time he stuffed the grenade in between two cylindrical objects towards the front of the helicopter. He did not know what they were, but they looked important. Then, just to be sure that the helicopter wouldn't be able to fly even if the grenades were discovered, he undid the bolts of the drag dampeners of two blades. If the helicopter took off and the grenades didn't blow the insides to pieces, then air resistance would rip the undamped blades off.

Mischief zipped up his pack, threw it on and hopped down from the helicopter, making sure to put the impact wrench back where he had found it. He joined up with the rest of the squad quickly. He held up the two bolts he had removed with a grin. "I have two grenades that will go off when the rotor turns. If they survive that, I have weakened two of the rotors, so they should rip off in flight." He said to Huscarl before pocketing the bolts and joining Praetorian at the front of the wedge.

“Fuck.” Linn muttered as his target walked out of his view. He shifted his aim to another hostile, but couldn't get a good angle through the thorn bush which almost completely obscured his new target. He pulled himself up into a low crouch so he could easily leap up, and waited.

When Huscarl engaged the unsuspecting soldiers, Linn jumped to his feet and lined up his sight on his target’s chest. A series of muffled gunshots erupted from his suppressed weapon, which launched four rounds at his target. Linn didn't bother watching the man slump to the ground, the 7.62 bullets punched through armor and ripped through his torso with a spray of blood; he was very clearly dead. He aimed at a second target, a soldier frantically trying to bring his weapon to bear, but one of his fellow operators fired first, killing the soldier. One of the other hostiles managed to fire his unsuppressed weapon at the operators, and Linn quickly spun to kill the shooter. Again, someone fired quicker than him, cutting the shooter down. “Dammit.” Linn muttered, partially because the gunshots might have compromised the operation, and partly because he was being outshot repeatedly. The firefight, if the very one-sided engagement could be called that, was over quickly.

Linn kept security while Mischief and Huscarl attended to the Hellcat and radio. He followed his Captain over to Bravo-2, then took his position at the front of the team when he was ordered. Linn waited for the team to get into formation before advancing northeast to the objective at a relatively quick but cautious pace.

Athena nodded as she changed her posture into more of a crouch and stayed there, shooting back at anyone she could lay her sights on. The firefight was intense, and after handling their previous objective, more and more just seemed to appear out of nowhere. But for now, they were just holding their position until further orders. She scanned around, hoping to find and pick off any two man AAF patrols that were going to hinder Mischief's objective. She stayed vigilant, scanning around from the hill she was on, just until Huscarl chimed in again on that radio of his.

She continued to stand by, until she looked over and saw Huscarl arrive. At that point, she stood up, and conformed with the wedge formation. She made sure she spaced out approximately 10 meters from whoever was on her left, and kept her pace as best as she could.

(( really hope i didn't mess up here... ))

(Since he ain't posted, I'll carry on the flow. Hope everyone's still in- I want to keep this RP flowing, and get some shit blown up shortly. )

Huscarl looked over his shoulder, checking the SCAR-H in his hands, moving up as he took the head of the wedge, looking back towards Praetorian and Mischief, who were keeping point.
"Eyes open. CSAT patrols from here out, they're Recon so they don't fuck around. 6.5mm rounds too, when you hear them you know about it. Keep moving." Huscarl said over the comms, keeping a clean sweep of the area through his holographic sight, aware that they could run into anything and anyone. He adjusted his ECH a little, Husky moving with a pace now, as they moved tactically though the forest. Huscarl kept cover by a tree, letting the wedge spread forward a little, as he then moved back up towards the front, aware that Praetorian and Mischief would see the first of any contacts.

A few hundred meters later, and Husky still hadn't seen anything, suprisingly enough. The thick pine forests combined with the sunset made NVGs a pretty tempting option, though Huscarl kept his off for the moment, as he kept moving, keeping his pacing he looked ahead.
"Shit. CSAT patrol, three men, just to our left at about 100m. Looks like they're headed our way- we'll have to engage, stop them from coming down any further. Mischief, Praetorian, you're cleared to engage from your perspective- everyone else, find cover and ready your shit." Huscarl said, looking over, watching them follow the beach as Huscarl moved to a tree, scanning one of the four men in the patrol, aware that the team would probably share targets. When Mischief and Praetorian fired, Huscarl knew that he would have the first man, right at the front- and knew they couldn't fuck this shot up. If they fired one off, or got on the radio, they were as good as dead. Huscarl simply put three shots into the first man's chest, aware that the CSAT infantry, their fatigues a grey hex scheme with a Katiba in each man's hand, weren't going to last long. The man dropped, as Huscarl watched the rest take their marks, watching on as he moved from his cover, aware that they were close now.
"Targets down. Okay...Athena, from here, you'll keep command of the rest.- you need to find an observation point that gives you a clear view of Camp Zephyr. Identify Sickle, designate the target with your laser designator, and call it out to Spartan, our Greyhawk on station. It's going to be a danger close shot, since they're using Anti-Personel AGMs, but it should wipe the camp out, and probably clear the infantry presence- if any stragglers are left, you know what to do. We'll be working on the clock from that, so no fuck ups, or you'll be in a real world of shit. Once you've blown the place to hell, go in, find the documents off our HVT, and get back to the boat- it'll be good enough a distraction for me and Mischief to cause some carnage on that submarine, so that we really hit CSAT in the balls. We all good?" Huscarl said, reloading the SCAR, as he looked over at Athena, aware that though she wasn't exactly his second-in-command, she would do the trick for now, and get to job done. He looked over to Mischief, and looked out towards the other side, aware that they had little time as it was, giving a signal for him to fall in on him as Athena took the rest back into the forest, going north towards Zephyr.

"Well then Mischief...let's get to work. I've never blown up a submarine before, but I'm sure it can't be too hard with the explosives we've got, and the fact I've looked into the plans of this thing. We just need to disable it mainly, turn it at best into an immobile and dead beast- the engine room and propeller shaft would be a good shot to go up, and since most of the crew isn't on the submarine, we'll be able to tear it apart. Reckon we'll be able to have the charges set from the exterior, or are we going to have to get messy?" Huscarl said, looking at Mischief with a certain look, knowing he'd probably know better on that regard. He knew it was just two against a very, very significant resistance- and he didn't like that at all. None the less, Huscarl knew that this was what they did best- and if this worked out, the anarchy would be just enough for himself to get the job done. Huscarl took point, as the pair were now moving along the edge of the pine forest and also northwards, but moreover towards the submarine and the concrete pier where it had been just able to dock up, in order to wait on Athena's callout of the missile strike on the camp.
"If it's another day of getting our feet wet, that's going to be fun to say the least." Arran said in a semi-serious, semi-joking way, as he kept his pace, aware that both him and Mischief, along with Athena's team, were moving quickly now, since time was of the essence- they had very little of it.

Moving up towards another pine, Huscarl dived down to a prone position, pulling out his Rangefinder from his hip, as he quickly had a look, aware that if they moved any further, they would compromise themselves. Keeping quiet for now was of the essence.
"About six CSAT Navy guys on the pier which is about 150m, godknows how many inside. There's a patrol team moving back to Zephyr...we are going to really, really need a distraction here. If Athena's team opens up hell on the camp, I can't see the navy guys moving, but we can make use of it to take it out." Huscarl added, looking over at the Czech soldier, a man who Huscarl knew reasonably well but knew would fit into the team better shortly. Putting the magnifier over his SCAR's Holographic sight, the pair waited, waited till Athena designated the target and told Spartan that the camp was fit for basically an annihilation.

The patrol moved slowly through the forest. Mischief scanned his sector, looking left and right with each step. For good measure, he checked the ground ahead of him and the branches overhead. If the CSAT forces were smart, they would have probably booby trapped the forest. Thankfully for the squad, the CSAT forces were either lazy or they had lacked the foresight to see the forest as a possible route for hostile infiltrators to enter the naval facility. Mischief almost felt disappointed, but then Huscarl's call of an enemy patrol gave Mischief an odd sense of relief. He would have hated to be sent out to the Aegean only to fight a second-rate army.

"Praetorian, two ahead," Mischief whispered, not taking his eyes off the hostiles he had spotted. "I will take right." He said and took aim with his rifle. He tracked his target for a second before firing a quick burst. His target took all three bullets to the chest and went down quick. Briefly scanning his sector, Mischief saw no other hostiles. With Praetorian making short work of his target, it appeared as if the CSAT patrol had been quietly eliminated. "Path is clear." Mischief reported over his radio. Not long after, Huscarl gave the order for the squad to split up.

Mischief fell in behind Huscarl while the rest of the squad moved off in another direction. While Mischief wasn't too happy with the idea of taking down a submarine with only Huscarl and him, he shelved any thoughts of speaking up and just hoped that Huscarl knew what he was doing. "I will know once we take a look at the facilities. If this place is just for resupply and rearming, then we can sabotage the propeller. The submarine will be dead in the water until they can tow it to a repair facility." Mischief said. "I do not have enough charges to open the hull, but if we have to, it is enough to cause enough damage to make it unseaworthy. Of course, if the facility is able to undertake repairs, then we will have to sabotage the submarine from the inside."

Moving up to another tree, Mischief took a knee right beside Huscarl. He looked down the sights of his rifle, using the magnifier to get a better look at the facility. He could see the submarine moored at the harbour and a collection of navy personnel around a few tents. It did not look as if the place was able to carry out any sort of repairs and it was purely a place to allow the crew to rest and stretch their legs. While naval personnel were, on average, less trained in ground combat than an army soldier, six of them against Huscarl and him were not exactly good odds. Mischief scanned the facility, looking for anything that they might use to gain an advantage. He found it in a series of parked trucks near the harbour.

"Look," Mischief said and pointed to the truck. "They must be using this place to rearm, or at the very least they are resupplying the submarine with something. I can hit that with an RPG from here. Even if the trucks are not carrying munitions, the explosion should distract the naval personnel long enough for us to slip in and eliminate them while they are confused."

Athena nodded as she was given the signal to break off from the squad back towards the forest. She was presented with a relatively simple task, that was to find a point where she could observe Camp Zephyr and identify Sickle, to then watch their local Greyhawk blow shit up and they then had to take care of cleaning up. It definitely wouldn't be a bothersome task, especially the designation part of the objective. She reentered the forest, pacing herself so that she had the perfect balance of speed, while maintaining a good amount of stealth.

She maneuvered through the trees and various shrubbery rather nicely, not making the possibly fatal noise they made when they were too riled up. She looked back from time to time to make sure they were handling the terrain nicely, and basing on the lack of gunfire, they were. She continued to scan for tangos, and much to her disdain there was one up ahead, which sort of made Athena wonder a bit. Was he hiding out here for a break? Or was he here to look for them? Either way, he had to be dealt with. She put up her fist, as an indication to hold as she took out her knife and lowered herself in a crouch, stepping towards him slowly and quietly. Once she was within range, she lunged up and put her hand against his mouth, planting her knife into his neck. She kneed the back of his knee, making him buckle as she put him down to the ground gently. She removed the knife and cleaned off the blood, before sheathing it. She turned back around, and found that what she believed to be Camp Zephyr. But, there wasn't really any elevated terrain she could get to in a short amount of time, so that put her at a disadvantage, for about 2 seconds.

She looked at the tree besides her, and it looked sturdy enough to support her weight. She sighed as she climbed up all the way to a height where she could overlook the camp with an excellent view. She then peered through the scope of her rifle, looking for Sickle to identify and have the local Grayhawk tear them a new one. She was able to identify it eventually, and did her job to indicate it with her rifle, activating the module on the side of her rifle. "Sickle found and indicated, it's all ready for you, Spartan."

“Roger.” Linn answered Mischief, lining up the front left contact in his rifle sight. He fired a quick burst into the unfortunate man’s torso, and watched as he collapsed to the ground and did not get up. He glanced around quickly to confirm the other CSAT infantry had been eliminated before standing by for further orders.

Linn followed after Athena, trying to keep up after the SEAL who seemed to have no trouble moving quickly and silently through the forest. His footsteps were louder than her’s, but they didn't seem to alert the soldier standing before them. He was completely oblivious and alone, making Linn wonder if these idiots had any training at all. His SCAR-H was aimed at the soldier, and his finger hovered on the trigger, ready to end this man if he made a move. He glanced through the surrounding trees, making sure he was not part of a larger patrol, but kept his weapon aimed on the hostile until Athena closed the distance and eliminated him.

“Jesus, is she a fucking ninja?” he muttered as his team leader climbed a nearby tree. He dropped to a knee, scanning the area around their position, watching for any more patrols or morons nearby.
"Sir, suggest you move quickly." he quietly suggested to Athena. She was an easy target sitting up in the tree with no cover and nowhere to go but down if she was engaged.

(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.

"Understood," Mischief said with a nod and immediately dropped his rifle and loosened the straps holding the RPG-7 to his backpack with a few quick tugs. He brought the launcher up and checked the sights Seeing as how it was just a simple red dot sight, the chances of it being damaged were slim, but since Mischief relied on it to make sure the 93mm warhead struck it's intended target, he did not want to take any chances. Loaded with a single-stage HEAT warhead, it looked like the RPG-7 anyone would recognize from games and movies.

He waited until the AGMs made landfall before firing, using the loud explosions as cover. He did not want the naval personnel to even get a remote idea as to where Huscarl and he were going to be coming from. Mischief took aim at one of the trucks and pulled the trigger. The launcher swayed downwards slightly due to the sudden reduction in weight, but Mischief had compensated for that by aiming slightly higher than necessary. Without checking to make sure that his rocket had struck it's intended target, he lashed the launcher to his backpack, threw on the pack and followed the path Huscarl took to approach the facility.

Mischief gunned down two naval personnel as he approached Huscarl's position. At some level, Mischief felt bad about it. There was no sense of achievement whatsoever. At least with the other CSAT forces, they had body armour, proper rifles with proper sights and some semblance of combat personnel. These naval personnel just had their uniforms and combat training which essentially amounted to 'shoot the enemy, find cover and hope for the best'. It did not take long for Huscarl and Mischief to eliminate the enemy resistance on land and soon they found themselves standing on the metal skin of the submarine. From its looks, and from what Mischief knew about the Iranian navy, chances were that the submarine was an upgraded Soviet Kilo-class submarine. Archaic for 2033, but still no less effective when it came to wreaking havoc on unsuspecting ships.

"No!" Mischief said, a bit louder than he had intended, when he heard Huscarl suggesting that they sabotage the weapons or engine. The Kilo-class was a diesel-electric, but who knew what modifications the Iranians had made to it? "We do not know what kind of propulsion this submarine uses or what weapons it carries. If there is anything nuclear on board, we will be condemning all who rely on these waters to a slow death. I am sorry, sir, but I will not sabotage the engines or weapons until we are certain that doing so will not irradiate the Aegean." He said and took a deep breath. While he was no stranger to going against authority, Mischief had worked with Huscarl before and respected the man. However, there were still lines Mischief was unwilling to cross.

He took in another deep breath. They did not have time to argue. The submarine had to go and it had to go fast. "If we have to sink this, then my suggestion is we sabotage the ballast systems. A few well-placed explosives in the control room will destroy enough circuits to keep them open. We can rig the doors inside and blow them when we're on the surface. The submarine will sink itself." He said, then pointed to the tail end of the submarine. "You say you have five kilograms of explosives? That should be enough to weaken the propeller shaft so that it will snap once this hits the seabed."

He hoped that was enough to convince Huscarl, but in case it did not, Mischief was prepared to pull expertise. He was the demolition's expert here, and he was not going to tolerate anyone who saw it as just blowing things up without sense, rank be damned. "I will go down first," He said, primed a grenade and threw it down the hatch. Mischief went down the hatch a split second after the explosion, climbing quickly down the ladder and scanning the area with his rifle up and at the ready. Apart from the three dead bodies which were the result of the grenade, the area was clear. "Clear!" Mischief shouted.

Faronaki, Altis

Mihail was fairly well hidden in a small house on the peninsula’s coast. Whether the owners had shared the fate of many Altisians and perished during the civil war, fled the nation like many others, or been killed in recent conflict, Mihail didn’t know. But, based on the layer of dust covering the inside of the cabin, it had been abandoned for some time, and worked fine as a rendezvous point. The terrain around the cabin was relatively flat and clear of cover, giving Mihail excellent view of the surrounding area and anyone approaching.

He had been waiting in the small building for about half an hour before he spotted the black pickup cresting a small hill and driving down the dirt road towards the cabin. Antos wasn’t late, that was a good sign. Mihail waited for the vehicle to come to a stop near the cabin before he walked outside. Slinging his rifle over his shoulder, he walked towards the passenger side door of the truck.
"Hello." He greeted the driver.

Once Athena received a reply from Spartan, she had to get down from the tree immediately so she didn't get hit by anything or anyone. She snaked down the tree, maneuvering through the branches and such smoothly, landing on her feet gracefully once she cleared the last branch. She crouched low, gesturing for everyone to do the same as Spartan came by and prepared to rain down hell on everyone he could see in Camp Zephyr. She scooted up towards the tree, maintaining her low position so she could take the least amount of shrapnel that would come come from the rain of hell.

The show was spectacular, it was one orange fireball after another. Athena knew there would be four incoming, and so once the third and fourth finished up exploding, she gestured upwards and then forwards, signaling everyone to move forward towards the base. Athena then stood up and ran at a good pace, allowing her to keep a good level of accuracy and hold her gun up. Once they arrived at the outskirts of the camp, Athena signaled for everyone to slow down, "We might have stragglers, so stay alert." She said, scanning around for any potential tangos carefully. For the most part, the path towards the command post was clear, and her team had her back in case anyone happened to show up unexpectedly, hopefully.

Athena managed to get inside the remnants of the command post, and dug through it for a while before she could find what she hoped to be were the documents. She grabbed them gingerly and secured them, placing them in a safe place before hearing Huscarl's order to them. "Alright people, let's haul ass! We need to get out of here before the AAF gets to us! Let's hustle!" She said, setting off towards the extraction area.

(Queen, if you want for now, you can play out Hotwheels and Irish, in order to keep some level of continuity- they're under Athena's control, but I'll illustrate them in a half-done sort of way. Those characters will be played out in time- and sorry if the post was a little directive there, on how it ends with Huscarl/Mischief getting out. I really want to restrict it, but wasn't too sure of how to do it without breaking the flow.)

Huscarl looked at Mischief, with a particular glance.
"We haven't got time...fuck, fine. We'll take the ballast out and the propeller shaft along with the electrics, we can go from that- Athena, this is Huscarl, we're breaching into the Peterburg, get your asses back to the ship. They're going to be more than alerted, and we're going to have at least a couple of mechanized platoons swimming their IFVs across to the island and whatever naval assets are at Camp Sagonisi also coming too. Fuckers." Huscarl said, as he checked his SCAR, moving the magnifier away from the holgraphic sight, as he let Mischief take point, tossing a grenade into the submarine through the hatch. As it went off, Huscarl was following behind Mischief, as he stuck close behind when the went down, the smoke of the concentrated grenade having a serious force it seemed.

"Through here, to the rear." Huscarl said, as he moved up past a damaged door, sweeping up as he checked his corners.
"I'll go on- we'll have to split up- I'll get the propeller shaft by the engine bay, you take electronics first then the ballast. Set timers on the charges for four minutes, in case we lose our detonation period- we have two minutes in here Mischief- and you know the drill if we break out the hatch and see about fifty AAF rifles in your face" Huscarl said with a certain tone, as he moved up ahead of Mischief, taking out a CSAT Seaman with a MP443 Grach in his hands, quickly wasting him with a pair of 7.62mm rounds, as the rounds amplified in noise. He moved up, as he indicated to Mischief to go through the door ahead by the dead seaman, while he went downwards, on a naval-type ladder that was as steep as it was decending. He moved slowly, and heard a submachine gun go off, spraying a round into his chest and the rest into a bulkhead. The dragonskin plate carrier had done it's job, and Huscarl, instinctively, shot back, emptying the mag but taking two men out in quick sucession, from his knocked back position.
"Fucker." He muttered to himself, clambering back to his feet as he jumped down to the bottom, sweeping the engine room as he moved past the huge turbines and various bits of mechanical gear. But he headed to the rear, unopposed almost, as he found what he was looking for. It was right at the back- and below one of the turbines in the engine room. A distinctive mechanism, the huge steel shaft being what he was looking for. There was no chance he could dive outside- and it was protected via a huge mesh cover, that was chunky as hell. None the less, Huscarl pulled the composite explosives from his bag- an amplified and potent set of C4 charges with a focus on obliteration rather than kicking up shrapnel. It was destructive, not shrapnel-projecting in particular. He readied his EGLM module, and moved back towards a turbine, aware that the distance was just enough- about 30m, a safe detonation distance Huscarl hoped. He fired a single 40mm towards the shaft, throwing himself back against the cover of the tubrine, the 40mm tearing the mesh cover and the obstruction apart- giving Huscarl the chance to go in, and set up the explosive onto the now exposed shaft. He placed one of the 2.5kg charges, setting it up as live and quickly with his detonator gone green, Arran aware that now, was a time to hope that Mischief had done the same.
"Charges set- four minutes on the clock here, so we hustle now. Do what you can with your charges- I'll meet you back at where we were earlier, no doubt there's half the AAF now descending on us.." Arran said, switching to his silenced ACP.45, or a highly-customized KImber Warrior M1911, as he checked the mag, before re-cocking the .45 cal pistol.

He pushed out from the engine room, going slowly. A man was on the stairs, and yelled loudly in Farsi, which was cut off halfway through what he said by Arran sending a double-tap of .45 rounds into his head, the unarmed man falling down the stairs as Arran moved past. To Arran, this was just how war was- they had to do this shit sometimes, and in some regards, though it was wet work, he couldn't exactly say it was exactly something you analyzed. To some, perhaps Huscarl was the personification of the evils of that line of wet work, but he knew that in a world like this, treading lightly and expecting your opponent to play fair was a very bad idea. He pushed up the stairs, scanning ahead, as he knew seconds were going.
"A flooded sub here wouldn't be half bad, Mischief. I just don't want to drown on one, hurry the fuck up!" Huscarl said, holding by the stairs, awaiting the Czech member of the squad. He moved up through the door, moving ahead, as he got on the ladder at the top hatch when Mischief came back. He looked out, quickly realizing that the daylight was going quickly, and it was increasingly dark. But one thing he could tell. There were CSAT men on the far side of the pier, looking around, in particular at the camp. Stragglers, but worst of all, Huscarl knew that they wouldn't stand a chance in hell of taking them out by surprise- they were well spread, and would take the whole fireteam to take out. Athena must have ran back to the boat with the rest of the team, Huscarl assumed, and knew that there wasn't really much of an easy way out now.
"Crap...well, we really are going to have to get our feet wet, no chance. No way though that. Athena, lads, just push that boat out, meet us off the western side of the island close to the submarine...our way out's comprimised, we'll have to see you in the sea- use your tactical glasses to pick us out. Just snatch us and take us to Faronaki Peninsula- no disagreement, just do it." Arran said, looking back at Mischief, as he then looked over.
"All right. Just follow me- I really hope you're deep lunged, that sea doesn't look to be pleasant tonight." Huscarl added, clambering from out of the hatch, knowing that there wasn't going to be any pleasure in this. He put his rifle on his back, clearing his hands as he looked over to Mischief, already moving with a quickness towards the port side of the submarine, running over the rough Russian steel of the submarine, as he lept off the side of the curved surface. Holding his breath as he went straight into the water, he was going under as he knew his plate carrier wasn't helping, but he could just about deal with it. Ditching it wasn't a good idea- it wasn't even that heavy on Arran's swim, and as he came back up, he already had his arms into a breaststroke, already kicking out as he felt a wave kick up. He couldn't look back, but he swam as much as he could, knowing full well that this was as tiring as it got. But he could deal with this, he told himself. His lungs were large, his arms and legs would cope, and he wasn't going to give in. He was a former SBS operator, and water was his second home away from the relative stability of land, knowing that drowning wasn't going to be his agenda for the day. He kept going, time ticking as he could just about make out Mischief behind. Then all hell rose, as what seemed to be a fireball emerged from the hatch, the wave kicking Arran under as he realized, that the charges had gone off- and the explosives had maybe been overkill, perhaps done their job too well, as the submarine behind them very quickly, was breached and now beginning to go down. It hadn't destroyed the inside, but they had probably been so concentrated in the way that they went up, that the heat within was concentrated, and probably cleared it out. Arran was barely surfacing again as a wave kicked up,hearing a faint noise of a loud boat coming. He could tell through his soaked glasses, that a few dots were just far, and coming closer. Friendlies, and moreover, the others.

---

Antos stopped the pickup, looking at Mihail. He kept his MTAR stashed under the seat, a hard thing to see from outside the car. Since the AAF checkpoints didn't often do stop and searches to every vehicle, and some were as corrupt as nothing, meant that every other checkpoint had someone that had some sympathy for the cause, or at least, would take a 500 Dollar bundle in hand and wave all clear. In a place like this, Antos carried US and Euros, no Altisian currency- knowing full well that any AAF patrolman would happily take foreign currency and turn a blind eye. The tarmac road had come to an end, and the cabin was right at the end of the Faronaki peninsula, by a small wooden quay. The island was visible, just, but the sun was setting quickly.
"Hey man. Good to see you're still alive- thanks for keeping the post running." Antos simply said, as he cut the engine, indicating to Mihail to go back, as he then spoke.
"Fuck, I heard a loud bang when I was driving over, had to be them. They really are making noise, but at least they'll share what they have with us." Antos said, leading the way to the tiny wooden jetty, as he took a seat on an oil drum, his Sig Sauer P226- a dated pistol by 2035's standards- by his hip.
"Shit, I heard from Andreas that CSAT came in earlier this morning, on Altis International Airport- he saw no uniforms, but he saw construction workers and a bunch of these weird guys with them, apparently constructing hangars and bringing in military goods. Can't be good- I bet the Altis Government are so pissed with us, they want CSAT on board to kill us all with what they did in 2026 in Libya, those hardline Anti-Insurgency operations and their vets. I've heard rumors about some research base that they have in the North-East, and CSAT-marked vehicles that go there, but man, I don't have a fucking clue about what they want here. I mean, our boys up there got killed four weeks ago, and since then, all the leaders of FIA North-East is either all in prison or dead. Fuckers, fucking bastards." Antos said, looking out, as he looked to Mihail.
"He's fucking crazy, Andreas is. Told me that Aramis is planning something on the Feres Airfield, something big apparently and apparently, he's "Down" for it, or some stupid shit. What a moron, he's just going to lose half the fucking cell if he thinks that we're going to suddenly have a few helicopters and armored vehicles stolen from the AAF. It's their fucking operational center in the South-East, and we wouldn't last a second against someone like that. Imagine what the response would be- the AAF are on our shit bad enough as it is, imagine if CSAT comes in and wipes the floor. Shit man, I don't like it at all." Antos said to Mihail, aware that he was probably the only sane man left in this part of the island in the FIA at the moment. That was suicidal- they had nothing here, and starting from the basics had to be done. Getting civilian support, fortifying perhaps a better, undisclosed location and gather men, weapons and supplies from patrols, outposts and checkpoints rather than the big military airfields and bases. Antos wondered why he was still here, but knew that Aramis wouldn't last a day if he didn't go to Greece every other weekend and bring back several crates of TAR-21s and other mixed rifles, of anything he had been supplied with by the CIA.
"They'll be coming round in roughly twenty minutes, if they weren't just blown up. I suggest we gut the computers, and get the fuck out of here, towards the Surf Club after they relay what they have to. That abandoned one, by Thelos Bay. Might call Andreas and Damien to get there, and figure out what then." Antos added, looking at his P226, as he looked on at the distance, towards the island.

Irish followed Athena and took a knee behind a tree near the one Athena has used seconds before, he smiled and watched as the base was lit by Spartans assault. He let a wide grin spread across his face and watched the chaos, he watched it until it was done and heard Athena order the approach. He raised himself off his knee and folowed behind her through the base, they moved through the base with ease and they approached the command post. He looked at its ruined structure and stood outside as Athena moved inside, he heard a set od footsteps approaching and raised his rifle. After a few seconds he saw the person in clear view he was a soldier definitely on base during the attack he was bleeding and looked like he was struggling to keep his rifle in his hand. Irish raised his rifle and fired once, the shot hit him in the chest and he fell forward midstep.

"Shots were mine," Irish said his accent showing, "One guy, must've just barely made it out of the kill zone."

Mischief raced through the interior of the submarine, moving straight for the bridge. Normally, he would have found such a frontal assault to be suicidal, but the submarine appeared to be working with a skeleton crew. Huscarl had told him that they had four minutes to get things done, and Mischief did not have the time to go directly for the ballast tanks. It would be faster if he just opened the tanks using the controls and then sabotaging the entire system by running detonation cord and laying charges within the bridge itself. It would be like killing a person by removing the head; without its brain, the submarine was useless even if it could be recovered.

He gunned down two crewmen on the move. Armed only with pistols and wearing only their uniform, they were easy targets and fell with a bullet each from Mischief's CZ-805. The sound of boots falling on metal echoed throughout the submarine as he raced towards the bridge, which was directly underneath the conning tower. As expected, the bulkhead was closed, but Mischief had prepared for that situation. He pulled out several breaching charges from a pouch and stuck them onto the door. Scooting back to a safe distance, he detonated the charges. The shaped explosives propelled the blast inwards and blew the bulkhead clean off it's hinges. He charged into the bridge a split-second after the blast, shooting the first armed person he saw twice in the chest.

There had only been five people stationed on the bridge. Two had been killed in the initial blast, one had been fatally wounded by the door and one had been gunned down by Mischief himself. The sole survivor of his assault seemed to have been struck by shrapnel from the blast, as evidenced by the blood streaming down his face. Mischief immediately walked up to him, grabbed them man by his collar and hauled him towards a control panel. "I want the ballast tanks open." He said sternly. The man spoke at a rapid fire pace in a language Mischief did not understand.

"Ballast tanks! Open!" Mischief shouted. "Submarine, sink. Go down."

That seemed to click within the man's brain and he shook his head. Mischief let out a huff of frustration and drew his pistol, pushing the muzzle into the man's neck. "Do not test me." He said, sounding as if he had every intention to shoot the man dead if he did not do as Mischief asked. "You have a family? Children? Wife? Think of them and answer me again."

That did the trick and the man nodded several times. Mischief let him go and kept an eye on him as he pressed a few buttons. The grinding sound of metal against metal reverberating throughout the ship told Mischief that the ballast tanks were opening. "Go," He said to the man and nodded towards the blown out doorway. "You have enough time to escape if you run. Use the forward hatch, otherwise you might run into my friend. He is not as...Accommodating." Mischief waited until the man was out of sight before getting to work. He took off his backpack and removed a few meters of detonation cord and laid them around the control panels. Then, he took out a few blocks of explosives and placed them on the control panels itself. He wired everything onto a common timer and set it for four minutes.

Mischief threw on his pack and raced back towards Huscarl's and his initial entry point. They exited the submarine and went into the water, much to Mischief's displeasure. He was not a fan of swimming in such rough waters, especially not with his pack, his RPG and plate carrier. It was doable, but it was unpleasant. The explosion, however, was more than worth it. Mischief let out a sigh of relief, thankful that his explosives had gotten the job done. Soon after, Mischief heard the sound of an approaching boat and their imminent extraction. It looked like their job here was done.

(Queen just let me know that she won't be able to post for a while. So I'm going to keep things moving, to Faronaki. Quite a big post on my end- it should bring about some sort of wrap up. Also, Advanced, you still control Linn by the way- you can RP him how you like.)

Huscarl saw the boat come closer, already swimming as hard as his body could. He panted, as he saw the boat pull in, and Hotwheels, on the side, reach an arm out for him. He grabbed on, quickly clambering up, as he turned and gave Mischief a hand into the RIB, three-quarters of the way through before Huscarl had turned to Athena
"Let's get fucking moving, eh." Huscarl said, as he dragged Mischief in, Huscarl taking his helmet off and putting it by the front of the boat as they turned around, the submarine now fully in Huscarl's view as he took the Glasses off.
"Shit in hell, we really did some damage. Look at that thing. They're going to be pissed." Huscarl said, chuckling a little, as his shaved head could be seen, underneath his helmet, as they headed south, but would soon turn West, towards Faronaki- the peninsula where the FIA Guerillas were.

After about ten minutes of being thrown about on the waves, Huscarl had his helmet and glasses back on, the latter cleaned and the former at least wiped out of water in the head, as he looked to the team.
"Athena, take us in here- right at that jetty." Huscarl said, pointing to the tiny wooden structure and the little cabin that sat on the peninsula. The boat hummed quietly, as they came in, Huscarl already up on his feet as they slowly eased onto the sand, Huscarl leaping over to the wooden jetty as the boat stopped. He gave the hand signal to "Follow Me", as he saw Antos and Mihail come into view, sitting down. Huscarl lowered his weapon, as Antos got up.
"Made it safely? I saw those explosions from the fucking peninsula!" Antos said, as Huscarl laughed.
"It's good to see you again, Antos. Who's this?" Arran said, as he walked off the jetty, close to where the two Guerillas had a small fire going.
"This is Mihail, a friend of mine. Anyway, you came to show us what you know- from what I heard, this guy was big." Antos simply said, as Arran nodded.
"Yes. I'll need your laptop and a secure encryption. Athena, pass me the documents." He said, looking at the paper that Athena gave him. Two files, and they both looked sizable.
"In here. We are safe from AAF patrols, they should not come." Antos said, as Huscarl looked over to the rest of the team, following behind.
"Lads, mind if you stay out of this? Less bodies in one room, the better- I'll get a good read on as well." Huscarl said, aware that while they would probably want to know, it was probably better. He'd tell them what they'd need to know- he wasn't that massive a prick, but he knew what to tell them when he knew what was key from this. Not every square inch of detail, but the basics, more than a regular SF team would need to know would be what he wouldn't mind them coming into contact with.

Following Antos and Mihail, he followed him inside the cabin, shutting the door behind, as he opened up the files as he casually stole a seat. He opened the first, and quickly saw papers in Farsi. He then swore, as he got the other. It was different, but a loud swear could be heard, as Antos was the first to make something legible. Antos could read some Farsi- he had received it as a part of his training, and he knew enough to just about get by in reading documents. Like these.
"Fucking hell, this is why they are here! Captain, you cannot go back to Stratis, surely!" Antos said, looking Huscarl straight in the eyes.
"That isn't how it works, Antos! Look...the first is Stratis-related. We knew the AAF were at odds for a long while, this is direct evidence for CSAT telling the AAF to "Evict" the NATO forces on Stratis. And you know what they did to this island. Half the people on it are evacuees or dead, Antos- they'll fucking murder every NATO soldier if they get the chance...Patterson, McKinnon, everyone. Bastards. They're here to set up a set of FOBs against you on Altis, and enforce COIN tactics. I've seen it in practice- they'll uproot whatever they can, your cell will be gone by the end of the fortnight, Antos!" Arran said angrily, as he looked over.
"What about this one? I do not understand it." Antos said, as Arran looked at him again.
"Fuck...fuck, fuck....that's Operation Hades. Fuck, that's impossible, that can't be real." Arran simply said, as Antos's face turned to confusion.
"What?"
"An experimental tectonic weapon, undertaken by CSAT as an alternative to nuclear warheads or EMP attacks. It's as black ops as black ops get....it could literally cause Richter magnitude 8 earthquakes in any fault line on this planet. I know it's name and what they apparently have on it...they're bringing it here. Listen to me Antos, this is beyond your concern. This is a matter of Worldwide security- we're talking weapons that in the wrong circumstances, could destroy entire cities without hardly a suspicion. I studied Geology- and I can tell you that an earthquake of that size, on a city such as San Francisco or even Athens or Rome could turn it to rubble in the right circumstances"
"And what does it say here?"
"They have it on Altis, at a research station...they're performing tests, in the Mediterranean and specifically, from this island. The Aegean is notorious for low-level tectonic activity, compared to higher magnitudes elsewhere. The ground practically shakes every fucking month at a Richter 2. The research station isn't specified, but it says that a CSAT cargo plane brought it in yesterday and it's already gone to Fort "Omega", no idea where."
"So? We can raid it if we find it?"
"So you go and kick the fucking doors in, let's say. You won't last half a day at that rate. Antos, just don't do anything fucking stupid. Tell that dumb leader of yours if he plans anything big on any big installations, not a chance. This is a matter you leave to us, Seagull- you will be briefed, but trust me, this isn't your territory. Get this scanned, and I'll get a comm link through your machine to my superiors. Just get to it, Antos." Arran said, walking around the room, thinking to himself as he knew that shit couldn't be worse.
"That leaves Stratis then." Antos simply said, as he put it through the scanner, quickly establishing the link as he got to working with the documents as he knew that they had to be swift about this.
"Yes. Well, I don't give a fuck for the fact that we lose a handful of platoons and assets on Stratis, an incident and then it all goes back to us focusing on how to restructure the fiscal plan for the next fucking year without being bankrupt. The Brass won't. Chances are, AAF forces are bolstering at Stratis Air Base and Fort Fulton now, and they'll be eliminating people like McKinnon first. We won't have time- they begin in an hour, and by then, half the island will be under AAF control.....which means that if we have any chance, we need to go now- I can't walk away, especially what with Mike-26 as an issue we need to sort out, and I feel sorry for Patterson. I need your group's help, Antos, if this will work."
"What do you need?"
"I need a couple of squads of FIA to divert from Cell South-East to Stratis, specifically, to the village of Girna. It might be hard to organize, but if you want to fight, we're giving you one. Right now, you're going to get the same orders as me from Langley- eliminate Air Station Mike-26. They might be defending it when we arrive, it could be leveled when we arrive. We have two jobs to deal with- the servers and the radar installation there. There's a encryption on the servers that they hold, but it'll only last a few hours before CSAT codebreakers crack it when they bring them in, since the servers are pretty much disconnected most of the time from the rest of the world and hard to break. The Air Station is a numbers and data station as well- and there's enough intel to give away huge pieces of NATO radio traffic right into CSAT or AAF hands, of maneuvers down in the Med- everything from pilots to infantry in Italy and Greece. The radar station is also a big element so control of that means control over air traffic in this part of the Aegean too. Something we had for a while, and are about to lose. AAF are going to want it if they want to run the runway efficiently, so disabling the radar station puts them in the dark." Arran said, looking to Antos, as he nodded.
"I'll see what I can do. But no promises for tonight- Aramis is up his ass again."

"Well, you can't just come alone. But it's going to be a long fight, and I can't see the situation being good. Anyone at Stratis AFB is as good as dead, which means 1 Platoon is off the list, along with every aerial asset on the island that is NATO-friendly. 2 Platoon...fuck, Patterson even, might make it out of Rogain and regroup at Tempest. That's their order- defend Tempest all costs, and to scorch earth at Rogain. 3 Platoon at Camp Maxwell and Air Station Mike-26 is going to get decimated, and 4 Platoon, a weakened group down at LZ Connor has an IFV and a couple of engineers. Against roughly a company or two of correctly placed AAF, supported by their MRAPs, CAS support and total and unopposed control of Stratis AFB means that we are as good as dead. I'll have to take command- apart from Colonel McKinnon, Major Strickland at Fulton and a few Lieutenants throughout the Platoons, it leaves me as head. We have to assume that, of course."
"Yes. So you are going to destroy Mike-26, then what? Fight back against a Company's worth of men without any long-range support? You know NATO will have no idea what will happen, the AAF will cut communication after NATO say that it's Green on Blue."
"Of course not. I'll figure that out, Antos. But right now...I think this is our priority. We need to deal with Stratis first, and then we'll be coming back to deal with Operation Hades. It's gone through- we need to haul ass. Keep your heads low- if Aramis doesn't listen, just get as far from that side of Altis as you can. We'll get this sorted, and though I know shit's fucked for NATO on Stratis, I'll have to give them leadership. Some sort of initiative to survive, or else they'll surrender- no matter what the cost of how fucked it all gets." Arran said, to Huscarl, as he tucked up the documents, looking to Antos again.

"Burn these, shred these. Get rid of them- they're on Langley's system now. They know what we know, and you will soon get a communication telling you what to do beyond what we just discussed. Good luck, matey boy." Huscarl said, tapping him on the shoulder before shaking his hand, Antos a little weirded out at the CTRG soldier left the building, and went back to the other forces of his team. He had things to say, and when he looked at them, he told them what they needed to know. They were back to Stratis, back to Tempest to reinforce any NATO forces left, and eliminate Air Station Mike-26- as well as the information vaguely on Operation Hades, something which he knew that his team would be assigned to deal with when he dealt with this situation on Stratis- but didn't specify beyond what he had to tell them. And lastly, as he finished, he simply told them this:
"Between all of us, Mike-26 is to whatever NATO survivors the only real long-range comms and salvation, so that's the only reason they'll follow us to assault it. They have no idea that we need to get rid of it and that what they think they'll get out of it doesn't really exist- keep that illusion up to them, or you'll find yourself very quickly running from a typhoon of shit. Also, we might need to dive to the Apex Marshall off the coastline of Tempest to rearm at the cache we have there- so I'm going to need a pair of divers to get nominated for that. Let's get in the boat lads, and off we fuck to a rathole." Arran said, looking to the others, as he pointed to the boat, getting in at the driver's seat as he fired the engines up, the noise of a A-143 Buzzard flying over as they swept the area, but couldn't see the RIB, as Arran backed up the engine, aware he was going to get asked a lot of questions as they left the peninsula, and headed out.

(DunDunDun! We've almost drawn to the end of the Prologue- Husky's Fishhook is about to begin, so you can wrap up in this part. Though Advanced, we are carrying on Antos/Mihail alongside Linn.)