"Likely to be, right on the wingtip. I heard a bunch of Royal Marines pulled it off, so we can. Hook your karabiner into whatever hardpoint there is, and make sure it's above, or else you'll get fired at some fucking terrorist. " Ross spoke with a slight chrotle, as he saw the Apache take a little fire, then respond in kind with M320 and CRV7 rocket fire. Wait. That was a Canadian warhead, and in particular, that was only mounted onto British Apaches, or the AH1. This was going to be an interesting flight, no doubt.
"This is Whiskey Six, Knight, we're getting your arses out of here. Coming in hot- get yourselves mounted on the sides on the double and we'll get you to where we need to be." The pilot said, as Ross noticed in particular, it was a Northern Irish accent. Another slice of Britannia out here. Taking a few shots as Ross moved across, firing his Mk48 at a rooftop that was quickly torn apart by his and then 30mm fire, he lobbed another smoke forward, to cover the helicopter's decent.

 Moving through the courtyard, the Apache came in low, as the pilot held it steady, letting Ross and Carl mount up. This was a bit crazy, and he knew that the rocket and gun run had made everyone duck, that is, apart from the two heavily armored troops that had basically cleared most of the village. Using what energy he could muster, he threw himself onto the left wing tip, grabbing the back of his hip and clipping the karabiner into what seemed like a steel pylon, though not a weapon system as it was above and not below the wingtip.
"Ross is clear, when Carl's good, take us out of here." He said as calmly as he could over the comms, aware that this was going to be quite different. Raising his Mk48, as the pilot waited for Carl to give the go, he saw a couple of AQ soldiers move out from the direction they had come in, to be then lighted up by Ross's LMG, the pilot now aware that they were going.
"We're going." He said simply, as the Apache quickly gained lift, the brick of an attack helicopter swooping out of the area as elegantly as possible, the gun firing away as they flew fast and low out of the area, leaving the village behind fast and going back into the darkness of the valleys again, Ross aware of the insanity of the situation. His legs hung over the side of a fucking helicopter gunship, and he was sitting in a position that really shouldn't have been where he should have sat.
"This is mental..." Ross said to himself, as he put his visor up, taking in some of the air as he checked his comms, the thundering noise of rotor blades above him not even muted by his helmet.
"Merlin, this is Knight. What's our lead?" He said, as Merlin was quick to reply, as they flew lower down, out of the mountains, down towards the river valley.
"Situation reads that we've got three SEALS alive, confirmed by our drones. They're holding them hostage at a town called Jamal Abad, in Gilgit–Baltistan Province, Northern Kashmir. It's disputed territory by the Indian and Pakistani governments, and is one of the most unstable and hostile areas in the world. Our influence should never be here...but we need to extract those SEALS one way or another, and a drone strike would be off limits, and the fact that they're being held in a Mosque facility...somewhere which if we hit, will result in enormous political fallout in addition to what we already have, so you get why you're getting sent in. We're going to drop you in a remote location within the province, and you'll meet one of our CIA assets, who will brief you on the situation. You're going to conduct a raid and get our guys out, and bring them back to Afghanistan one way or another. Whiskey Six will drop you then return to Afghani airspace- we'll send another air unit to properly get you out of there. I understand we've had to get a lot of choppers out for you- but we're stretched thin, and are basically handing you whatever we can muster in this area. You have priority on this op- so keep that in mind, over." Merlin said, as Ross looked out to the pilot, aware of his mission parameters.
"How stealthed out is this thing then?" He asked over local comms, the pilot chuckling.
"It isn't, but trust me, I'm as good as they get, if you just saw back there. You might not shit yourselves often, but I can try and make it happen- we're going to fly below radar for most of this run to avoid Pakistani jets flying out and intercepting us." He said, Ross just not wanting to think of what that meant. As he checked his GPS, he realized quickly why. They were two miles out, and the helicopter dropped like a stone, the empty and cold environment of the highlands below them truly wonderful with NVGs, but not to the naked eye. There was almost no moonlight now, and as they flew at almost 20m off the deck, Ross had to praise the pilot on this run. They were going to do some serious business against these bastards, and even if they thought they had the SEALs safe and were immune to getting bombed, they were getting a different kind of munition. One that was the emergency services for Navy Seals, no less. 

The pilot was still flying like a total boss across the border, miles and miles in, deep within the valleys and on the wider areas, using anything as masking cover, staying so low that Ross could make out individual house doors, though it was mainly a blur in the speed of the chopper, as they headed into the more unpopulated area of Kashmir, flying for almost half an hour without breaking radar or going above any elevation that a normal pilot would never dare to fall below.
"Never knew that we'd be doing this sort of work, over the border. It's going to be lightly snowed over, but the town's fairly large, so be ready for some urban combat when we get there. But if we're being dropped into the middle of nowhere, I haven't a clue on how this is going down." He said, putting his visor down to keep the cold out, putting his NVG set down too, the quad-NVG securely over the visor, made of kevlar and heavily resistant materials to keep bullets from disintergrating the NVG set, that was effectively as armored as his visor. Even the lenses were made of reinforced polymer that could withstand a 7.62 bullet, and merely have a skin-deep crack within it, being seriously uparmored. None the less, Ross knew that they weren't like those giants, able to lay down heavy fire and take it back, no matter what- they had to be careful, and needed to not go head on into the worst of the mess, being able to instead deal with the lighter side of things and take a good angle. They could take a beating, but they had upped the ante, and while on breaches, charging in was an option, sometimes going right into a compound was not the way to go.