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Within the base, two people commanded; Lieutenant colonel Kitson, responsible for the Werewolf programme, answerable for all teams under her remit. Overall responsibility fell to General Green, which put Kitson under his rule. The fact they had a civil workable relationship was a tribute to Kitson’s tact and forbearance. Military competence ensured they entered from opposite ends of the spectrum. Brigadier general Green, a desk-jockey by design; active theatres denied because of his ineptness. A career spent desk surfing caused him to suffer from traits denoted to this position. Arrogance, self-importance, disorganisation, and a lack of strategic intellect. A career of relative obscurity, gifted base commander over a large pool of senior and tactically aware officers. The pressure exerted from his four-star father ensured he reached the short-list. Leaders with egg on their hats didn’t believe Kitson’s idea viable, all expected it to fail. They classified the project as a damp squib with the assumption Green could not fuck up like his previous howlers. The capture of werewolves succeeded beyond all estimates. What they underestimated was Kitson’s determination, forethought and military skill. Her baby from conception, and with great tenacity, dedication and ingenious nature ensured the base exceeded its aim. Her biggest challenge, to mollify, mediate, and persuade the idiotic general to work with her, not against. He was prickly, wilful, vindictive, insensitive, overbearing, stubborn and vain. Not an exhaustive list; his biggest failure, complete lack of common sense. As a leader, he had a much-criticised tendency to claim ideas of others as his own with their success being down to him. Named OWIT: Office for Werewolf Intelligence and Tracking gave the base commander full autonomy of the facility. Its true nature, known only to a few. Loaded with doctors, scientists, researchers and key military personnel limited prying eyes and questions. As John entered ground level, the colonel had long ago become sick of the grin on the general’s face. The sort of expression that confirmed he didn’t have a care in the world. Fitting, since he sat securely in a reinforced command centre, surrounded by an entourage of security personnel. Perplexed, she protested his arrogance, compromised the base’s integrity and that of her soldiers by issuing untested weaponry. Kitson, not outdone by this arse, secured a small armoury within her office, where she’d stashed some aforementioned weapons. With a disgruntled wave, he dismissed her objections, the persistent insolence a tiresome burden to his leadership. They clashed on a plethora of issues regarding the creature where she resented his narrow, single thrust frontal assault. She advised that this limited troop tactics by attaching them to fixed positions. Adding they need to use a broader process by sending multiple units to converge on the creature and capture at the point of contact through overwhelming numbers. The General, impervious to sensible suggestion, ploughed headlong with his strategy. Despite others favouring Kitson’s idea, not a single officer spoke up to defend her. Flawed to the core, officers implemented without question. For most of his career, Green shuffled papers around a desk, harmoniously suited to large spectrum war-game type scenarios. These relied on broad sweeping plans with no intricacies or the microscopic details needed for success. Kitty, experienced in operational combat through various theatres of conflict; desert and jungle, to sprawling metropolitan and tunnel warfare. Suited to fast fluid warfare, where thinking steps ahead of her enemy was a basic necessity. The base, much more concentrated and confined than the general had ever envisioned; his inabilities caused major issues for her fluid command structure to be utilised. Kitson was a military commander, leader and technically competent, with no yearning for praise or adulation. Fighting for her troops, however, it was disastrous having strategies and ideologies laid at the hands of an incompetent general. He paid more attention to his own fancies than to his commanders and those on the ground. Kitson’s glowing reputation preserved her from almost certain dismissal, the general’s usual response to protest. It, however, didn’t spare her from the rest of the shit that spouted from his mouth. Profanities and incomprehensible orders often at the forefront of his abuse. His benign order to remove lethal weapons to neutralise the creature, put front-line troops in severe danger. The simple task of stopping the creature at the source, removed, replaced by impractical suicidal series of orders. Everyone realised the creature headed for the cell blocks as everything so far pointed to this outcome, the general, in his own weird wisdom assumed the creature roamed without purpose. Asked why it entered the base, his answer brought to the fore his complete lack of military intelligence. His strategy to drive the creature into the waiting ambush, however, in battle, things rarely go to plan. In war, it is not always the best equipped or how many troops one has. Military capabilities depend on many factors, the two major ones being communication and leadership. Calvaria AF agents, well-trained, who, without the general’s interference, would be equipped to take on a creature of John’s magnitude. Things, however, often go against the grain in battle. Initially, morale was high, despite using untested in battle technology stun weapons. Unease rose as despondency spread where agents contemplated how on earth they would subdue a werewolf with non-lethal weapons? Unclear orders caused confusion on the ground as the general snarled down the radio that they must take the creature alive. His tone venomous about the consequences to anyone not compliant. Aired with smirks of contention from agents, aware they’d be lucky to survive this encounter.