Andrew yawned, waking up, as he saw Nolan watching the news, stretching himself as he looked over at the screen.
"Fucking hell, what a mess right? Reminds me again what we've got to go and cut the head off, to say the least. Alright, give me a moment- get whatever's left of kit together, I'll get my gear on under these fucking robes. Considering you have some color to your skin, you do blend in better here, if you know what I mean- not that you know..." Andrew said, trying not to put it impolitely, than Nolan's Metis heritage did have an influence on the color of his skin- and in this part of the world, Andrew was reasonably pale compared to most. Andrew headed out with his Mk18 into the room, quickly ditching his local and perhaps more traditional tan robes to grab a plate carrier underneath, and a pair of Oakley SI Tactical Gloves, in no other color than black. He put his brown robes back on over the top, and buttoned them to conceal the fact that he had some body armor on underneath, though the sub-carbine rifle in his hands gave a little too much away none the less. Aware he wasn't the sniper but a spotter, he checked his gear for his Rangefinder and the couple of M2 SLAM mines he'd use to remotely detonate a vehicle in the convoy, be it at the front or the target's- either suited him fine, depending on what was the situation. Coming back into the room where Nolan was, he looked over, looking out the window again, as he knew that they were going to have to get set up, and quickly.

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(Sadly, there might be quite a lot of jumping in this scenario, due to the way I want to play it out.)

Three Hours Later
0300 Hours

"Area's clear Nolan. Up and over." Andrew said, from his position hanging over the brick wall, as he clambered upwards, and came down with a quiet drop. He advanced slowly forwards with a crouched combat pace, the abandoned Soviet warehouse a very shit place to be when it was almost pitch black to be in and infested with mice. He scanned his Mk18 around, the silenced and Holographic-sighted weapon trusty for him right now. Though they had no NVGs, it wouldn't be needed- the shot was in the daybreak, after all, at 0600 hours. Andrew kept moving, through the side of the empty hall, when he heard a rumbling.
"Fuck, Vehicle, sounds like a lorry. Sounds like it's stopping too. Get down." Andrew said, the spotter of the sniper team moving slowly, aware that it was better to avoid than go straight into. He threw himself on the floor by a steel beam, keeping against it as watched on. The light of a flatbed lorry appeared at the opposite end of the desolate and dark factory, as it stopped, pulling left, and a flare was thrown out the side by the driver, lighting the area up a bright red. Something sent a shiver down Andrew's spine, when he saw the driver and a passenger, both balaclava'd, get out and move to the back of the large lorry. Opening the ramp, they pulled out one figure, then another, both tied up. They had weapons- a pair of AKMs, and Andrew had not a single doubt what would happen next. He realized that it was a simple choice- possibly compromise the operation for a pair of mystery hostages, or do nothing, and identify them later for whatever intel they had. Comms were too risky, it would be pointless to break out and say "We see hostages", as it was in reality, a non-essential communication in a situation where minimizing radio chatter counted. That would defy the entire point- this was as clandestine as it got, and Andrew didn't like the idea that in three hours time, a convoy would roll past to find a truck with a pair of dead armed militants- who probably belonged to the Transfacilitator anyway. If they had radios, then there was no chance of a shot. In Andrew's mind, he had to just say it to Nolan, no matter how cold-hearted it was.

"Nolan, hold fire. Let them pass, they're going to kill them and leave- I don't want to miss the shot on the bloke that gave the chance to kill almost a thousand people to save someone I have no idea about. We can't comprimise the shot." Andrew said, watching on as they taunted the hostages, who had cloth bags over their heads. The shots rang out, almost instantly doing their work, as the hostages were killed without a a plea or a yell prior- they had literally no idea of what had happened when they had arrived here, and it had come from out of the blue. Part of Andrew knew that death was something you learned to deal with, especially when you had the capability to do it from long range and see your target's face. But something didn't click. The fact, the absolute fact that he had little idea and were completely helpless because of his own will hurt most- perhaps they were CIA agents on reference to Andrew and Nolan's operations, with key intel, or just plain civilians killed in cold blood, made Andrew think it through. The two men left the bodies, and got back in the truck, reversing and driving off, as Andrew got back up.
"Fuck...there's nothing we can do. Let's keep hustling." Andrew said, moving up slowly, as the truck turned off, fully clearing the area.

Andrew kept moving at his low profile, coming to where the bodies were, his heart bitter and his head just trying to counteract that with more rage and counter-thought. He just wanted to leave it behind, stop thinking. Shit happened- and Andrew knew that he had cracked under worse. Things weren't all roses, and they could only just accept that had happened. Moving to the door, he looked on the street, the Mk18 lowered but at a position that it could easily be brought to fire. Looking both ways, he saw their sniping position- midway up a cooling tower on a factory roof, with a cramped and small metal platform being their position for shooting the convoy- though Andrew knew he'd be hitting the floor and cleaning up on the floor after giving Nolan an effective assessment of shooting ranges and the vague direction of fire that the shots would be channeled down, before staying on the factory roof himself in a different OP.
"Okay, clear." Andrew said, moving quick but low as he moved across the darkening courtyard, towards the entrance of the old factory, a few crows flying off as the city lights of the Tajikistani capital city could be seen to their right, a little more active than this abandoned complex.
"Turns out they've got a really large stash of AKs on the other side of this complex, a couple of warehouses down. Must be what the boss is inspecting- but if those were agents, we're going to have to pray he sticks to his plan. We'll have to waste them quick, and get out of here much faster than we came." Andrew said, looking back at Nolan, as he approached a wooden door, a side entrance of some sort to the friendlier looking side of the factory. Kicking the door down, he let Nolan take the lead, turning his Surefire flashlight mounted on the side of his Mk18, as he followed in behind, walking into a small lobby that gave way to abandoned machinery and tools loitered around huge segments of the factory. This place was a metalworking plant- making knives and forks in the Soviet times, now being completely abandoned and probably owned by nobody due to the fact that even the richest developers had no reason to level a place like this to replace it with a block of flats. It felt eternal, a time warp, and the place was only illuminated by Andrew's rifle-mounted torch, as well as the little moonlight. Moving through slowly and surely, Andrew saw it first- a set of stairs, that he almost could guarantee was the way upwards.
"It must head to the roof. Come on." Andrew said, coming back on point, as they moved past the machinery, moving upwards through a broken-off door and past some graffiti, towards the second floor and subsequently, the roof.