Post

Fort Sherman, New Columbia

Col. James Quisling (and how he hated sharing the name of a well-known Kalmaran traitor from the second world war) sat the report down in front of him on the desk and he typed on the PPAD. He found it easier to work with than that unholy monster of a laptop that one of his men gifted him last Christmas. Such a piece of technology had no right existing and how the man managed to build it escaped him. Viewing the reports on the desk, he tapped on the map icon on the PPAD, the low-light hologram feature zooming in on Belize. So far, the British had suffered several dead following an attack on the garrison there. He swiped over to the location on the hologram, showing the garrison and city. The various alleys and side streets would make operating a pain in his ass but once the order came from the Pentagon, his Green Berets would fit right in in such a place. Hard odds were their jam and bread after all. Much like that badly conceived idea to sent some men to Central Asia but he digressed. Those men should have been sent to handle a cartel issue forming in the CAF or hunt down the few cartel bosses that somehow made it to the Union mainland. Even now, Special Operations was having a rip-roaring time dragging those guys out of their holes and making them disappear in the Mojave. He didn't envy either the cartel bosses and grunts or the teams hunting them. Even in the desert, night was never your friend. You either froze to death or became some creature's dinner. Looking at the PPAD's hologram of Belize once more, he zoomed in on the port itself. A good place to insert his teams once the show kicked off. And who knows? Maybe even the Brits would want to join the fun that was being planned in Nevada and New Mexico. There's never a dull moment in the Southwest...