They're Random, Baby!

Reach Radio Transmissions Red 1: Breakpoint
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Red 1: Breakpoint


BRAVO 001: Mayday, mayday! This is Bravo zero-zero-one, en route to your position. Do you have a visual on my aircraft, over?

GOLDEN ARROW: Bravo zero-zero-one, this is Golden Arrow. I do believe you are steering that bird in the wrong direction, over.

BRAVO 001: Negative, bird's electronics are fried - I'm flying blind! Just need you to point me in the direction of the LZ.

GOLDEN ARROW: You got it, Bravo zero-zero-one; happy to oblige. Link up with Uniform-Delta one-zero-one-five-three-niner-niner-zero, heading south-southwest. Slips about one-zero-zero knots. Advise you head for the treetops and fly straight at Mount Törött. We got more than enough problems of our own down here.

BRAVO 001: I say again: that's a negative, Golden Arrow. I've got high value assets in tow with strict orders to drop them directly on your location. My bird ain't going to hold together all way to the boneyard. Need an LZ clear, over.

GOLDEN ARROW: With respect, Bravo - unless you have a cartful of tac nukes with my name on it, you don't have anything of value in that bird. Get your ass to evac.

BRAVO 001: All right, Golden Arrow. If I can't set her down, I'll just drop these big SPARTANs on your head, out.

GOLDEN ARROW: Damn Bravo, why didn't you say so? Come down close to the tree line about 2 klicks due west of your current position. That's where me and my boys are, over.

BRAVO 001: I'm gonna need that LZ cleared, Golden Arrow; I'll be right on top of you in three mikes.

GOLDEN ARROW: Hell, I'm gonna clear you a spot myself, Bravo. Look for the trooper with big-ass grin on his face.

BRAVO 001: Roger that, I'll see you. Out.