Merlin nodded, looking down. He was being given frontline command of this. It was how he liked to lead, from the front, not behind. He was a rather objective Captain, CWO Bastion saw that he had the nerve, he would resolve this, hopefully. And he'd deal with the FNGs, which was another good thing....probably. He had his own mind on who to take, and his mind was formulating who could do what with him.
"Understood, Cap'n." With that, he headed into the armoury, and begun kitting up. FN Minimi, in 7.62mm round. It was normally confined to the M240, or the Mk48, but it had been put into a Minimi's capacity, albeit a little more specialised. Merlin liked it, the Para being lightweight, yet carrying a 7.62mm cartridge and an aluminium buttstock, making it feel compact, close-in. 

And in his hands, it felt like an implement, you could pull the trigger and shit out bullets till that barrel glowed, and anyone who was standing in front of you, even if you didn't hit them, was on the floor dead, or crapping themselves. Psychology said that you trained to hit your targets, and the capacity of a man to shoot back, while being shot at, was what defined their training. Merlin simplified that in his head. You suppress, you lay out, and if your bullets don't connect, someone else's will, repeat, adjust, and move when needed. It was moving with dynamism, not standing around that made an automatic rifleman in the capacity of a special forces team capable with a gun like this, the CWO reminded himself, it was the ability to lay out more fire, over a longer period of time, than a rifle could match, that a team like this always needed. Not that Merlin exactly didn't do imprecision either. He took his AOR1 fatigues, as well as the rest of his gear, slinging his quad-NVGs over the top of his rucksack, as well as his trusty door-opening 870 MCS, and P226, sliding a magazine in, the .357 making him feel like a fucking cowboy, but with a friggin' Sig, the round having a nice punch that he personally preferred to .45 or .40. He looked over the rest of his equipment, and then back towards Edward, before looking over the men, looming around, eyeballing still. He'd only have his P226 as a silent weapon, but that was fine, given that chances were, reconnaissance didn't mean popping fuckers left right and centre, until you really wanted to make a dent with all firepower needed, CWO Bastion thought to himself.. 

----------

Stepping onto the helicopter, Merlin sat in the side, the doors wide open, the FN Minimi sitting neatly, pointing downwards, as he looked across to JB, as he took the pictures to hand. Satellite, and UAV recon. The latter didn't sit well in Merlin's head, it was too easy to see a drone sometimes, especially against an advanced foe. This wasn't the Taliban, but it would take a simple radar device that from a force that blew it's own operatives faces off with a chip, would seem at least relatively simple. Would they know who was coming though? Some Americans, but loud, or quiet? Merlin seemed to favour the latter, even though he did feel tempted to do the former. He adjusted his specialised headset, mounted underneath his beanie's pattern, covering his ears in the chopper, as to talk to JB, looking at it all.
"I'd suggest we post up ourselves into three. Scooter and Wraith can act as our ranged element as a sniper fireteam, and can post themselves up on the southern flank, picking an OP and shooting point to conduct observation and long-range supporting fire from, cleaning out any orbital patrols they find en route to thin them out, quietly. Topography says we've got elevation, the rest is flat, but dense."

"I suggest you take [b]Wolfman, Dash, Breach and Chip[/b], Captain, as a primary Fireteam, and designate fireteam names as you will. And me? I'll take [b]Blacktail, Viking, and Joker[/b], as a secondary, used to apply pressure to a different point when, AND where, we make the assault. Way I see it, the base is well defended, and is reinforcing, it's well designed to sustain an assault with minimal numbers of troops defending. Towers deeper inside....shit. Some rats hold their jaws locked when they bite into razor wire, so they pull it all apart when they chew. Same applies here, but if we're wire, if you understand me....but good recon can offset that. For example, here." With it, Wizard pointed out the defence on the eastern side, the opposite side of what appeared to be an entrance.
"Elevation, density of forest, problem for them, solution to us, and with enough firepower, a staging point for my fire-team...we'll act as close-in reconnaissance. You can take the south-western approach, and sledgehammer into the place when ready, you blow shit apart and act as a blocking force, while we scalpel the wankers. It cuts any vehicular transport, and anyone who wants to run into the jungle is ours." Merlin added, smirking.

"Valkyrie think they can make people fear them, because of their mystery. It's the moment we mindfuck them, we get the upper hand. We scout, observe, wait, and strike when it suits us, and when it's going to cripple their structure of command and ability to deploy." Merlin added, as he looked across the helicopter, sitting on the edge, the noise now escalating as they headed out.
"We can't afford to rush, only if the situation demands it. We make sure this is a strike of our choosing, we see the people we want, and we bury it. Have we got any artillery or air support on station, if we need to put more dakker onto those bastards?" Merlin's voice was crystal, knowing by dakker, it would be pretty clear he meant blowing shit up.