Enemy 1: Get your fucking heads down!
God! Son of a bitch!
Enemy 2: Quick, He's by the barrels!
Enemy 3: We're getting torn up!
On the cat walk!
Soldier: Command, Whisky Five Four. The only units still on the ground are guarding the H.V.E. Everyone else has been evac'ed.
Soldier 2: Copy Whisky Five Four. Report back when Sergeant Becket is on board the transport.
Man: He is slipping through our fingers...hurry, brother.