The preparations for the blue faction’s campaign had begun in earnest,  and had done so slowly, as such the eminent figures of the Anti-ZADR faction had convened at a classified location to collude against their foe.
    Enclosed within cold, grey, uncompromising concrete walls, the conference room was a Spartan affair, with little colour, brightness or furnished refinements. The entrance was situated within the eastern wall of the conference room, this abutted a series of guard rooms, which in turn abutted the main arterial corridor. The remainder of the eastern wall was covered by a symposium of various computing devices and internal network servers that droned on to one another, sometimes quite excitedly, in their own alien language. On the North wall, Captain Q had ordered a large screen erected, displaying a continental map of the Earth, glossed over by notes pertaining to the positions of the known forces of both factions, their relative strengths and dispositions. The muted emerald shades of the stylised continents, would flicker occasionally during moments of activity, the refresh rate struggling to keep up with the constant and barely perceptible changes in data output. Between this colossal display and the Eastern and Western walls there was a colonnade of supporting steel girders, painted, again upon the orders of the Captain, to bear the Blue livery of the Anti-ZADR faction.
  The Eastern wall was largely bare, save one remote laptop terminal and a few air conditioning devices protruding from the upper reaches of the wall. The southern wall simply framed a series of large fans that served as air filtration and oxygen re-enrichment devices. These too added to the veritable cacophony  of mechanical devices that powered the Blue HQ.
   Set in the rough centre of the room, a simple glass table had been erected, ovular in shape, eight broad-backed leather office chairs were arrayed around it, upon which sat the assembled personae, waiting.
   At the head of the table sat Captain Q, in full uniform. Logic and Reason, her pistols lay on the table before her, crossed over one another. Around her weapons lay various magazines, boxes of ammunition and files containing various classified projects. These had been cast onto the table quite haphazardly upon her arrival, and so were spaced in no particular order. To her left sat her right hand, First Lt. Wistful, wrapped up in her long coat and sat, catlike, upon the chair, her hair and hat pushed back, she seemed lost somewhere, in deep thought as seemed clear by the manner in which she drummed her fingers upon her kneecaps. Her dress and manner emulated that of the Captain, but her personal sense of reservation and caution were more evident, she seemed somehow more scholarly than any of the other parties present at the meeting.
   To the left of Wistful, sat Private Sunrise, he drummed his hands on the highly polished table surface quite irritably, gradually tarnishing the table surface about him, waiting, clearly, left him jaded. He wore his archetypical spectacles and a set of modified standard issue British Army fatigues (circa 1943). On the table before him lay a Webley.45 revolver, his scoped .303 Lee Enfield bolt-action rifle and a ‘tin hat.’ To the right of Private Sunrise sat an effigy of Steampunk technology an amalgam of man, brazen knobs and pipes. Corporal Dusk Royale reclined ostensibly in his chair, decadently swirling a glass of  red wine in his right hand, occasionally stopping to take a deliberately long sip. He was clad in the garb of a nineteenth century gentleman, a broad sabre hung in an elaborate scabbard at his side. His winter coat was draped over his shoulders, and an inner lining of bright silk placed him in high relief from the dull leather upon which he sat.  
    To the right of Captain Q, and opposite  Lt. Wistful, stood behind a chair: the enigmatic figure of Sadamohi. He wore a simple coat and simple fatigues. A mercenary recruited to the Anti-ZADR faction, largely on his own volition. He stood calmly, waiting for the meeting to transpire.
    Finally, the protracted silence became too much for Captain Q, she fanned herself, in spite of the air conditioning, drew herself to a near standing position and began: “Alright, I have to say this bluntly gentlemen, or I can’t say it at all.” her normally kindly visage was interposed with an expression of  keen severity “We are outnumbered. We are outgunned. And we are certainly under budget. Frankly, we are fucked if we do not think of something, and fast.”
   Private Sunrise ventured a suggestion; “I have epiphany rounds”  he held up a stripper-clip of the new munitions “- bullets that convince the target that their beliefs are wrong.”
   “Private, we all have bullets.” Sadamohi interjected.
The Captain gave a sigh of dismay under her breath; the Blues could not afford to be so fractional. “I realise, that even though our faction is skilled, we are still just brave little arrows against the lightning of ZADR.” She returned to her seat, head held in one hand.
  “We’re more skilled though” said Royale.
“I know” she replied.
“Smaller forces are more efficient, they are easily co-ordinated” Sadamohi began,
“-but their sheer numbers are enough to overwhelm us, even with our tactics as good as they are.” Captain Q interrupted his dialogue, he folded his arms crossly.
“Look, dudes, this is your war.” Declared Sunrise, rising, then standing “As long as I remain un-bored, I really don’t care how fucked we are- I mean, being outnumbered never stopped the Macedonians-”
   Q stood up again, to match her subordinate “Do you want to become a mindless, screaming Yaoi fangirl? Well, Private? Because if we do nothing, that‘s what we‘ll be, all of us!”  
Before he could fully bring himself to answer, he was interrupted “If he does can I shove him in a room full of furry porn?” Royale asked with faux-innocence, his sincerity was erased with a wry smile.
“I am tempted to grant that request to Royale, if we can’t keep on topic” the Captain mused, quite audibly. Those with opinions contrary to the subject matter, made their own private peace. Royale grinned wider.
Finally able to speak without interruption, Wistful took to the fore of the conversation; “Yaoi. Furry. Whatever. All of this begs a question, Captain - cynical though it may be - does this accursed Pink faction take us seriously? What is the mindset of our enemy?”
“They think we’re a joke.” Royale replied bitterly. “They clearly underestimate us..“ he clenched one hand into a fist. Captain Q nodded solemnly in agreement.  
“I surmised as much” scowled Wistful “it seems that we are the mouse that taunts the elephant.”
“On the most part ZADR regard us with little threat, but their Priestess knows better.” the Captain explained. “She out of all of the ZADR, knows what we are capable of and despite her mask of arrogance, she fears us.”
“Indeed,  ‘the victorious general knows both his own dispositions, and those of the enemy’ if I am to borrow a few words from Sun Tzu.” Sadamohi began, “It follows therefore, that in underestimating us, they create a weakness that we can exploit. While we cannot face ZADR in open war, we can fight them on terms that are most advantageous to our faction. For example: guerrilla tactics, engage them where they least expect us, hit-and-run. Engage in subterfuge, throw the enemy into confusion, target their infrastructure and their commanders.” He paused for a moment, waiting for his proposed stratagem to be understood fully, satisfied by the lack of bewildered expressions in the room, he continued “Furthermore, I have four companies of NPC mercenaries holding this position alone, ZADR can try to take it if they dare.”
  Corporal Royale adjusted one of the valves on his powered gauntlet, a jet of superheated steam blasted into the conference space and gradually dissipated, forming clouds of condensation on the cool table surface.  He picked up a folder that lay at his side, and threw it to Captain Q, it skidded across the tabletop and  into her grasp.  “I have ordered ‘The Cats’ to start training, and prepare for combat.”
“Cats?” she asked quizzically. The Captain flipped through the pages of the folder, detailing each of the NPC’s abilities.
“My Elite forces Madam,” he said, with a mock bow “Twenty Seven of the finest scoundrels I have to offer, pretty faces, sexy bodies. All gay as Christmas, and as vicious as she-hulk on a period.” He straightened out his cravat  and then enquired “Well?”
After a moment, something resonated, a distant footnote in the Captain’s memory “Ah, yes! I think I remember something like that, vicious and loyal. A valuable asset to our crusade.”  She smiled at the realisation.
“They should scare the living daylights out of  ZADR then.” Wistful sniggered.
The Captain continued to read the dossier for a moment “It says in here that they get male PMS” she added, “not pretty if you are the ones fighting them.” Royale nodded. Wistful sniggered again at the sheer absurdity of the notion.
    “Why amass huge armies?” Private Sunrise asked, he shifted in his chair, and reached for his rifle: “Its all very simple, you see this?” he raised his weapon above his head, in a similar manner to which one would hold a trophy “It has taken out more opposing leaders than I care to count. Just stick me up to and including a mile from the enemy, then go home lads, the war’s over.”
“True,” said the Captain, “but I don’t think its that simple. Sadamohi, you were speaking of your elite forces.”  She fixed him with a scrutinising stare.
   Taken slightly aback, Sadamohi began: “Well, erm… right. We must first understand the sum total of our own strength.  I have served as an aide-de-camp to many eminent commanders, I have four hundred and eighty men at my disposal, one company of which has enough training to be considered the equivalent of special forces.”
    Captain Q nodded, “I see..” she murmured in agreement.
“If follows, therefore, that with the assets we have, we should follow a policy of making surgical strikes targeting enemy commanders.”