Markus stayed at the wheel, foot to floor, keeping it going.

The Land Rovers in pursuit were aware of the high-velocity round flying at them, and were watching their sectors, with a couple backing off.
"Keep raising hell!" Markus yelled at Eric, as they thundered over a bump, letting Eric dispatch the two Land Rovers on their tail, using his MG36 as he focussed on the road. And it was looking good. They were putting distance between them and their pursuit vehicles behind them, and Eric seemed to be able to at least ward them off, if not entirely kill them. 

And that was the moment Markus didn't see it on that tiny dirt track, they were close too. The other armoured vehicle slammed out of the trees, hitting the rear quarter, as the German attempted to countersteer. It wasn't working. They were gonna tip. And with this speed, he already knew to brace.

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

Coughing, his vision slowly came back, as he undid the seatbelt, lower down in the forest valley and the distant noise of a stream audible. They had come down into the bottom of the valley, the crash had been significant and they were above a slight drop into the river beneath, he could tell that much...but the Commander was missing. 

The two armoured soldiers stood watching, clearly none too pleased, as Markus coughed, clambering for his gun, which had been knocked from the position in the side of the door. One step, another....kick.

He came down to the floor, barely sitting on his knees, as one of the armoured troops hit him hard with the butt of their M249, pulling the damaged helm from his head, looking on as he took Markus's own hands and zip tied them around his back, taking any weaponry out of his vest. It was the same to Eric, as the German looked across at his friend, then back at the two imposing figures in front.
"You can't run forever. You did well to go this far. But not good enough." The accent was muted through the man's helmet, as he looked at his arm, the German flag and the insignia.
"They're private contractors. Fair game for us." The armoured man said to his friend, as he knelt down. 

"Do you know who we are?" The man asked, visor still down, accent still muffled.
"You're a fucking piece of shit, I can tell that much! Eric, keep your fucking voice shut!" Markus yelled back, as the armoured figure chuckled, looking across.

"Pieces of shit. Well then. You are feisty." He looked on, their face covered by a balaclava, his armour probably that and above that of what Ross and Carl used, clearly Western with a mixture of Russian features, significant indeed and enough to take a pounding with.

"We are a part of an organisation that is the black mirror to your West. And for this long, you have always had the upper hand. Not any more. You stumbled upon something you really shouldn't have. The damage is limited, you fought a good game. But I think your time has ran out. If you at least had some official presence, we'd have at least been able to sell you to a terror cell that pays top dollar for captured soldiers. But you're a contractor. You, and your friend." He sighed, as he let his M249 hang from a carrying point on his webbing, shaking his head.

"So we have no worth out of you. End of the line, as you would say. Your friend was at least a little more respectful. I think....we'll have fun with him. He can be of use to us in time. But we only need one of you." It didn't sound any less sinister, as he looked across at his friend, the other armoured soldier removing their helm, though she was certainly a lot of uglier now he saw it. Not exactly the last thought he had in his head, as he resisted, pulling downward on the zip tie, nothing.

"Eric, don't fucking give in!" Markus yelled, as the armoured lady chuckled.
"Is that the best you have for last words?" She looked across at his still helmed friend, watching him draw a rather horrible looking knife. Markus bit his tongue, and for a moment, the world stopped, his heartbeat quickened, every single smell, every noise, everything just went visceral, everything came into view, as the man knelt, turning the knife in his hand, before grabbing his head from the back and cutting open his throat, before shoving his lifeless body onto the floor, Markus's world turning from colour to black, from life to death.

The other two dragged the body over the edge, pushing Markus's lifeless corpse over into the ravine and the river, momentarily absent from Eric, who was still tied. Perhaps it would be enough for him to do something, perhaps not. 

----------

The commander had been recovered, and was heading up, flanked by a number of other soldiers, well, just about four for now. He clearly was tired, and was angry at them for the lack of security. It was a poor effort, he kept yelling and swearing at them. It was actually a help for someone.

With the sub-sonic plink, the first of the 7.62mm rounds found home in one of the commander's soldiers, the second turning around and looking for the shooter. But she was quick. Magpie was good at what she did, she may have been young, barely 20, but the training she had recieved and work she had undertaken made her capable as a ghost. 

The next three were all headshots, like a hunter stalking their prey, before the commander himself, drawing his own pistol, received a bullet in both his kneecaps, falling to the ground in a heap of body. Shooting that even Nolan would have been impressed by, no doubt, as she gently rested her face away from the scope, emerging from the forest floor like she was invisible.

Revealing herself from her ghillie hide, the shooter was clad in a black long-sleeved shirt that tightly clung to her body, a light body armour vest, a beanie and black and dark green facepaint, her gear all in black, her hair tucked in and it's colour lost beneath the hat and the shirt she wore. A Russian-made SVU in her hands, she knew that it had been difficult making the hunt on the motorbike through the forest. Markus and Eric didn't know her, they wouldn't, given she was there in a very different context. She was...well, freelance. Had a set of skills that many senior operatives wouldn't even dream of having. While they had gone in for data recovery, she had wanted this man.
 
And when they evolved their mission to grab both, she knew that she had to be ready when things went to shit. She understood exactly the enemy they were up against. Magpie was young, yes, but she was a warrior, first and foremost. And while they were close, she had followed this up, fast. Her mission had been very different to begin with, but after watching the events at the camp unfold differently, her usually trigger-free method had changed. Like anything in this line of work, she was aware that she could now strike and that she did, to get this bastard into custody. And after he was in Blue Sword's extraction, she would vanish again. Because that was what Magpies did. They stole very high value things, and weren't really seen.

Walking up she grabbed the comander's plate carrier.
"You don't get off that easy. Now shut the fuck up." Her accent was distinctly Norwegian, distinctly thick, as she felt him scream out, her strength able to drag him to the the armoured vehicle that was intended for his pickup. Leaving him in, she ran towards the cliffside, seeing one of the armoured soldiers running up. She didn't want to stay, but took pity on the two mercenaries who had gotten themselves in a very deep pit of shit. And one less of them would help. It was just so convenient that one of them had decided it was a non-helmet wearing day. Silly bitch. All that armour...yet Magpie didn't need to even readjust her sight for the movement and distance. She dropped a knee, and shot once. With it, the ugly armoured woman was on the floor, with a large Russian 7.62mm round in her head. And their friend was firing up the hill. A good moment to get the fuck out, running back to the armoured vehicle and past the berm, leaving her dead corpse and their friend who was rather angry behind. 

With that, she clambered in and drove off, and in a funny taste of irony, the armoured soldier had been left behind again, as she felt the gearbox clunk in and the road ahead, now empty of any hostiles, clear for her route back. The armoured soldier at the bottom of the hill ran up, without Eric, still distracted from the scene unfolding, only half keeping an eye on him.