"We need support, thhis is whiskey twelve, reporting from the Dunaris Plateau, we are cut off by enemy snipers, we need help!" Buzzed the radio, as it sat on the table, right next to a glass of wine, and a large battle map, the ommand centre was nothing fancy, merely a tent with a lot of tech inside of it.
"I repeat, We need support, thhis is whiskey twelve, reporting from the Dunaris Plateau, we are cut off by enemy snipers, we need help!" Buzzed the radio once more, as the commander strode over, his badges and medals clinking as he walked.
"We are sending support now Whiskey twelve, stay in position." Said the dispatcher, as he sat in his leather, his name, Domonic, monogrammed on his shirt pocket.
"Belay hat order commander, we're leaving," Said the commander as he took the last few sips of his wine.
"Sir, what are you talking about?" He said, flabbergasted, "We still have soldiers in the valley." He asked, as if he was just asked to shoot every member of the military.
"Don't question my orders commander, just collect our supplies.