Guest Article: Deepstrike 2 by Wintyr

In the depths of the brute wilderness, a military site, shrouded in an impenetrable veil of secrecy, stood as a monolith to the unyielding stratagems of war. The air was heavy with the stench of sweat, blood, and despair, as seven individuals, chosen for their unwavering resolve, were thrust into a realm of endless torment. They were the newly recruited members of Fenris Kindred, an experiment; an elite unit of clandestine operatives, destined to become the instruments of 5th generation warfare in case of a post-invasion satellite state.

As they emerged from the darkness of their mundane lives prior, they were met with the unforgiving gaze of their drill instructor, a hardened veteran of the Special Operations Forces, who would stop at nothing to forge them into a phalanx of ruthless warriors. The instructor, his face chiseled from the granite of a thousand battles, unleashed a maelstrom of verbal abuse, his words cutting like a lash, as he drove the recruits through a gauntlet of physical training.

"Drop and give me infinity, you pukes!" bellowed Drill Instructor Deathforce, his frog voice like the crack of a whip as the recruits hit the ground, their bodies trembling with exhaustion as their asses were chewed. "You're not just training for a mission, you're training for survival! You'll be the stay-behinds, if you live… and you'll need to be able to survive in a hostile environment, with nothing but your training to keep you alive!"

And the training was a never-ending cycle of hellish endurance, as the recruits were pushed to the limits of human suffering. They were forced to navigate the treacherous terrain, their bodies battered and bruised, as they executed drills in Advanced Situational Awareness (ASA), Close Quarters Battle (CQB), and Survival, Evasion, Resistance, and Escape (SERE). The instructor, merciless in his pursuit of perfection, drove them to the brink of collapse, his voice a constant barrage of intimidation.

"You'd get yourself killed in a real-world scenario, with a sloppy setup like that! Now, tear it down and start again, and this time, do it right, or you'll be doing burpees till the sun comes up!"

As the training progressed, the recruits were introduced to the dark arts of Unconventional Warfare (UW), learning to exploit the weaknesses of their enemies, to manipulate the narrative, and to sow discord and chaos. They delved into the mysteries of Psychological Operations (PSYOP), studying the techniques of cult creation, and the subtle art of manipulating the human psyche.

The Fenris Kindred's training was a descent into the abyss, a journey into the very heart of military darkness and elitism, where the recruits were forced to confront their deepest fears, and to emerge transformed, their minds and bodies honed into instruments of war. They were the chosen few, the nonexistent operatives, who would be the vanguard of the resistance, the harbingers of chaos…

As they trained, the recruits began to realize that they were not just being prepared for a mission – they were being forged into a fraternity of warriors, bound together by a shared sense of purpose, an honour, and a willingness to transcend the boundaries of human morality. They were the Fenris Kindred, a unit of clandestine operatives, destined to unleash a maelstrom of chaos upon the world, and to bring terror to the hearts of their enemies.

On August 8th 2014, the recruits all entered a standard brutalist professional setting. The bodies and minds walked through the gateway to the classroom as if in total reactionary accord. There was no thought to their motions, their actions or their internal compunction.
Such a trite matter that no longer persisted. Each and every one of them in orderly fashion took their seats.

Then the instructor, bespectacled and dressed in antiquated formal attire complete with a cravat, entered via left stage. He positioned himself at the lectern and adjusted his fittings.

It was DI Deathforce, but they, the Fenris Kindred, had no memory of him at this juncture.

“Ahem…” he undulated into them, now with a completely different bedside manner; a totally new identity. “Welcome everyone.”

The audience washed entirely clean of any sensory recall stared unblinkingly at their instructor. “On your desks you will find the typewritten facsimile of “NAOS: A Practical Guide to Modern Magick,” he said. “And also…” he continued, “to becoming an Adept.”

“Sir,” a voice called out with a raised hand.

“Fenris 4, state your question,” he said.

“Who am I, and what am I doing here?”

The instructor attempted to conceal a sneer, albeit feebly.

“Your memories of your past lives are gone. You have all signed them away in another life. Whoever you were before, there’s no getting that back. You are all tabula rasa: a clean slate.”

Another hand raised.

“Yes, Fenris 2…” he said while pointing.

“Why are we here?” he asked.

“Because you all said you would do anything for your country,” DI Deathforce said, or, as they would know him as, “Long is my name, and you may refer to me as this from henceforth.”

Wintyr
9AO