"We can afford the time to bury them," you confirm, and lead by example, as usual. Twitch, for his part, keeps poking around the ruined helicopter, taking up a few pieces of broken-off debris where concrete, wood, and metal appear to have fused in an impossible fashion. Besides these curiousities, the Hind yields us little else: Vlad joins the shovelling with his own entrenching tool after briefly fiddling with the PDA.
"Thing's way above my pay grade," he says simply, putting his back into it. It occurs to you that these men were never really his comrades strictly speaking, and now were even less so. Still, he's helping, and you've got to give him credit for that.
Twitch, who has gone from poking about to keeping watch, breaks the relative silence of work, "Uh guys," he says, sounding a bit panicked, "We've got incoming."
You take up your binos and look for yourself; what you see makes your blood run cold. Ukrainian spetsnaz, led by a single military stalker. Nine men in all. You wonder how they got so close, but then, that's part of the job description.
They've definitely seen you, and now they realize that you've seen them.
Shots ring out, and your group scatters for cover in and around the warehouse.