02-01-2025, 04:45 PM
Detachment Briefing Room, 1st Special Reconnaissance Group, Naval Air Station Amsted, Aldegar.
“Hurry up boys, grab a chair, the Major’s gonna be here soon.” Captain Bobby Harrison, called out, his voice soft yet firm, leaving little room for argument or counterpoint. As the group of men shuffled into the cramped, dimly lit briefing room, the sound of their boots shifting the amateurishly set vinyl floor snuffed out their near-child-like whispers and murmurs. Settling into their chairs, a mix of creaks and groans involved the room as they adjusted themselves to the wooden chairs. Glancing up at the black curtain covering a section of the wall which once occupied their LED briefing screen, Sgt. Richard “Daily” Day rubbed his grey stubble as he muttered, “This ought to be good.”
“Can it Daily,” Lt. John Keller snapped, his head still fixed in the direction of the black curtain. Corporals Dean “Mouse” Carter and Alan Austin shared a brief glance, their expression a mix of curiosity and unease. Mouse, the youngest of the group, leaned into Austin whispering, “Think this is about the op last week?”
Before Austin could respond, the door swung open as Major David Waller strode in, multiple manillas tucked under his arm. Dressed in the Lodamese Army’s green evening mess dress, his seemingly out-of-place formality had been largely tempered by his missing overcoat, with his white dress shirt standing out among the room of dark green combat shirts. “I see that I’m overdressed,” he said, his tone laced with dry humour as his eyes scanned the room. “Not that I expected any of you to attend the reception anyways and maybe mingle with the brass.”
Daily smirked, turning to Harrison who shook his head in disapproval. Major Waller placed the stack of folders at the centre of the table before turning to pull the curtain on the LED screen. “I don’t even know why they put this shit here,” he murmured turning on the screen to show a map of Solentia. As Harrison slid the folders across the table, one to each man, the Major began:
“Alright, dive in,” he said, gesturing the men to open their folders to the dossier prepared for them. “Now the kind people at the SSA have provided us with this dossier so please, go easy on it.” As tier-one operators for the Lodamese Army’s 1st Special Reconnaissance Group they had become accustomed to their briefings having been prepared by the analysts at the ODI (Office of Defence Intelligence), however, the nature of the operation at hand, required the sort of sensitivity and analytical power the ODI simply did not possess.
“We have a serious shitstorm brewing down there boys,” the major said, as he fiddled with the screen to zoom in on a political map of Solentia. “On one side we have the Hezb-e Ahmadi (Party of Ahmadism); they are a fundamentalist political uprising, seeking to establish an Ahmadi-led state in Solentia. On the other side was the Mutahad Kargar Gond (MKG), a left-leaning worker’s collective which stood as HA’s principal opponent and the other half of the Solentia Civil War. They’ve collapsed in on themselves and are now fracturing throughout the countryside, opening the door for the Abadi militia and ASIM to take complete advantage of their ensuing chaos,” he paused, switching to a dossier on the Abadi militia.
“Now these are your freedom fighters. Although they aren’t entirely against the rhetoric advanced by the HA and others, they nonetheless refuse to align themselves with the HA and become partners in their new Emirate. Then we have ASIM (the Ahmadi State in Majatra). Now we’ve known about these boys for a while. Both the SSA and ODI have been curating dossiers on this group and their work in Jakania and elsewhere.” Turning off the LED screen and sitting at the head of the table, Waller slid his hands into his pockets.
“Our mission is simple yet complex. The name of the game is Wetwork. You will be inserted into Solentia alongside your SSA handler wherein you will seek to aid the Abadi militia and conduct ops against key figures of ASIM in Solentia. The civil war has granted us some cover, so we’re not talking deep infiltration but you’ll nonetheless be required to mask your identities and blend in. You’ll be asked to destroy targets of opportunity, ranging from mere buildings to an entire complex. You’ll be briefed on those details in the future.”
Recognising that the Major had paused to allow for comment and questions, Daily shot up. “How are we structuring this?” “As any op. You’ll act as our firearms specialist, Keller as 2IC and medical, Mouse as our marksman and Austin as intel support,” Cpt. Harrison broke in. “It doesn’t mean that we’d be going up against formations. It’s wetwork, assassinations, decapitation. That sort of stuff. We’ll either be operating as a single team or two units.”
“Who the fuck is our “SSA Handler” anyways,” Daily asked, his tone peaked with scepticism. “You’ll meet her soon enough. Her name is Agent Rose Kaid. Former Army Intelligence, she’s been acclimatised to people such as yourself Sgt so don’t think you’re gonna try to pull your usual moves.” The room burst into laughter as the men stood up. “The style gentlemen is what you choose. Accident or not, it doesn’t matter to them [the SSA], once you eliminate the targets and act on intelligence.”
“Hurry up boys, grab a chair, the Major’s gonna be here soon.” Captain Bobby Harrison, called out, his voice soft yet firm, leaving little room for argument or counterpoint. As the group of men shuffled into the cramped, dimly lit briefing room, the sound of their boots shifting the amateurishly set vinyl floor snuffed out their near-child-like whispers and murmurs. Settling into their chairs, a mix of creaks and groans involved the room as they adjusted themselves to the wooden chairs. Glancing up at the black curtain covering a section of the wall which once occupied their LED briefing screen, Sgt. Richard “Daily” Day rubbed his grey stubble as he muttered, “This ought to be good.”
“Can it Daily,” Lt. John Keller snapped, his head still fixed in the direction of the black curtain. Corporals Dean “Mouse” Carter and Alan Austin shared a brief glance, their expression a mix of curiosity and unease. Mouse, the youngest of the group, leaned into Austin whispering, “Think this is about the op last week?”
Before Austin could respond, the door swung open as Major David Waller strode in, multiple manillas tucked under his arm. Dressed in the Lodamese Army’s green evening mess dress, his seemingly out-of-place formality had been largely tempered by his missing overcoat, with his white dress shirt standing out among the room of dark green combat shirts. “I see that I’m overdressed,” he said, his tone laced with dry humour as his eyes scanned the room. “Not that I expected any of you to attend the reception anyways and maybe mingle with the brass.”
Daily smirked, turning to Harrison who shook his head in disapproval. Major Waller placed the stack of folders at the centre of the table before turning to pull the curtain on the LED screen. “I don’t even know why they put this shit here,” he murmured turning on the screen to show a map of Solentia. As Harrison slid the folders across the table, one to each man, the Major began:
“Alright, dive in,” he said, gesturing the men to open their folders to the dossier prepared for them. “Now the kind people at the SSA have provided us with this dossier so please, go easy on it.” As tier-one operators for the Lodamese Army’s 1st Special Reconnaissance Group they had become accustomed to their briefings having been prepared by the analysts at the ODI (Office of Defence Intelligence), however, the nature of the operation at hand, required the sort of sensitivity and analytical power the ODI simply did not possess.
“We have a serious shitstorm brewing down there boys,” the major said, as he fiddled with the screen to zoom in on a political map of Solentia. “On one side we have the Hezb-e Ahmadi (Party of Ahmadism); they are a fundamentalist political uprising, seeking to establish an Ahmadi-led state in Solentia. On the other side was the Mutahad Kargar Gond (MKG), a left-leaning worker’s collective which stood as HA’s principal opponent and the other half of the Solentia Civil War. They’ve collapsed in on themselves and are now fracturing throughout the countryside, opening the door for the Abadi militia and ASIM to take complete advantage of their ensuing chaos,” he paused, switching to a dossier on the Abadi militia.
“Now these are your freedom fighters. Although they aren’t entirely against the rhetoric advanced by the HA and others, they nonetheless refuse to align themselves with the HA and become partners in their new Emirate. Then we have ASIM (the Ahmadi State in Majatra). Now we’ve known about these boys for a while. Both the SSA and ODI have been curating dossiers on this group and their work in Jakania and elsewhere.” Turning off the LED screen and sitting at the head of the table, Waller slid his hands into his pockets.
“Our mission is simple yet complex. The name of the game is Wetwork. You will be inserted into Solentia alongside your SSA handler wherein you will seek to aid the Abadi militia and conduct ops against key figures of ASIM in Solentia. The civil war has granted us some cover, so we’re not talking deep infiltration but you’ll nonetheless be required to mask your identities and blend in. You’ll be asked to destroy targets of opportunity, ranging from mere buildings to an entire complex. You’ll be briefed on those details in the future.”
Recognising that the Major had paused to allow for comment and questions, Daily shot up. “How are we structuring this?” “As any op. You’ll act as our firearms specialist, Keller as 2IC and medical, Mouse as our marksman and Austin as intel support,” Cpt. Harrison broke in. “It doesn’t mean that we’d be going up against formations. It’s wetwork, assassinations, decapitation. That sort of stuff. We’ll either be operating as a single team or two units.”
“Who the fuck is our “SSA Handler” anyways,” Daily asked, his tone peaked with scepticism. “You’ll meet her soon enough. Her name is Agent Rose Kaid. Former Army Intelligence, she’s been acclimatised to people such as yourself Sgt so don’t think you’re gonna try to pull your usual moves.” The room burst into laughter as the men stood up. “The style gentlemen is what you choose. Accident or not, it doesn’t matter to them [the SSA], once you eliminate the targets and act on intelligence.”