HERE WE GO
Thursday: the world was in the latter half of December. Thick snow fell from the heavens, just beyond the protection of a thin window. Amelia quietly wondered about the extent of life as she munched on a bacon and egg taco. She was currently on break from working in the office. It wasn’t often where she was able to slip away silently to eat in peace. And considering it was winter, the opportunity to do this was ever so slim to begin with.
Upon returning to work her mind was just as occupied. She had already been skimming through her own personal records out of curiosity, and at one point she had even brought up her pay stub to determine how many days of vacation she would have within the next three months. It was 42 days total that she had saved, and she considered arguing to her coworkers about the next leave period.
“Hey, you’re supposed to be calling our contact for the case. Why the hell are you even talking about vacation? Is there a screw loose?” Amelia paused and removed the last taco she had from her mouth.
“No ma’am.”
###
Friday.
“Agent Violet, Zimmerman. Sorry for the interruption, but the nature of the optics called for it,” growling from the entrance to the office, a deep voice called out to Amelia.
Zimmerman looked up from packet she was reviewing and looked directly at the man. Eyes widening, she instantly stood and hurried over.
“Master Chief,” Being on official business, the man before the two was in a khaki service uniform adorned with few decorations. Three silver warfare devices, amongst them Silver Dolphins, and three ribbons of high prestige. To the world the man was unknown, often forgotten. To his men, he was a legend. This Master Chief was not someone to take lightly, like all men of his rank. Master Chief Petty Officer Landon Avery was given direct command over all naval resources for this investigation. Though just a mere enlisted man, his commanding officer had more than faith in his abilities.
Amelia poised herself. His uniform did nothing to hide his imposing, square figure. It was easy to understand why the Navy sent him.
“I’ve been briefed on how far the Marshalls have come with Master Guns,” Avery stated leaning against a cubicle. His sharp tone was reflected in his burning hazel eyes. Amelia was once more at a loss with what was happening behind her back. The last week had mentions of a task force, but nothing was presented to her.
“It’s something I can work with… naval intelligence can only do so much domestically. Admiral Winston put me in charge here, and for now, I need you all to act as the spearhead with this investigation. Sometimes working within my own branch can bring some unneeded conflict.”
Zimmerman nodded, grabbing a tablet. “We’re ready. What can we do, Master Chief?”
“I’ve pulled a favor from someone in homeland security. The FBI is going to pull something big tomorrow.”
“FBI.” The name tasted bitter in Zimmerman’s mouth. Amelia held a similar expression. Though still under the Department of Justice, the sister law enforcement organization remained the arm of interfering with regular operations. They often had orders that conflicted with the Marshall’s objective.
Amelia silently watched as her department head was guided by Avery to a private conference room to the side of the office.
The Master Chief held an unmoving expression as the door closed behind him…
###
Saturday.
Bullets snapped over the vehicle, sprays of concrete dust fell from nearby pillars and walls. Spent cartridges were returned to the gunfire. Tracers from special purpose rifles shot out every fifth round. Men pranced around in ballistic plates and reinforced helmets. Tactical response squadrons made up Special Weapons and Tactics, and Hostage Response Team operators made up the spearhead in this close quarters brawl.
Field agent John Davidson had nothing except a level 3 plate carrier and his standard 9mm duty pistol. Ten other agents were equipped similarly. Nothing but khaki pants and dark blue shirts ranging from polos to muscle shirts. Only three of them had duty rifles, and a sole agent had a 12-gauge shotgun with him. Each of the men on the ground were capable, experienced in their own fields.
“How many are there?”
Removing the magazine in his pistol, Davidson took one of the eight spares he had and slammed it into his handgun before racking the slide. Taking a deep breath, he looked to the side of the squad car he sat behind. Two agents were firing the rifles in between the reinforced car doors of the armored BEAR truck. On the other side of their gun sights were the members of Los Almaza, the local cartel organization.
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Snapping his head up over his rifle, an agent tucked himself back inside the vehicle. To his left, the second agent crumpled as an armored peircing round tore through his head. His face separated from the rest of his skull and the deep red insides of his body shined in the sunlight. His corpse tumbled against the armored plates of the vehicle, leaving a trail of blood, brain matter, and pulps of red.
“…Oh God.”
“Bring up the .50!”
###
Amelia stood over the corpses of two FBI operators and three cartel sicarios. Her brown steel-toe boots were standing just outside of the cordoned off evidence zone. Her glazed-over eyes drifted over the blood crusted equipment and weaponry. Chunks of dried flesh were surrounding the bodies, and what wasn’t removed from each corpse was held in by the clothes of what each person wore. Raising her head, Amelia watched as more FBI investigators and agents arrived on scene.
It was by mere chance that the Marshalls had even been allowed within the scene. On one of the few broadband channels shared between federal agencies, a call for assistance was made by the commander of HRT forces within the region. Local first responders arrived and made up much of the assistance. Only two cars of Marshalls were dispatched, with one only being equipped with extra supplies and resources to give to their sister agency. The FBI had secured the scene, only those present at the gunfight still had access.
Letting a heavy sigh escaped her lips. Being joined by Lieutenant Jones, a city officer, she spoke, “I’m surprised the FBI are even letting us in after all of this.”
“Even since Texas,” he noted. This wasn’t the first incident where the agency was caught in the blind.
For most Americans a typical Saturday was the true day of rest and recuperation. At the current pace the world was moving at, it was a typical workday for the law enforcement agencies. Productivity of all personnel present was stuck in between the same lax expectations of a weekend, and the booming crisis that came from such a horrid event.
Naturally this event drew attention from the higher ups and the locals. Little had made it to the media, but eventually video footage and testimonies from local first responders would circulate and expose what had happened against the cartel.
Minutes later investigators from NCIS arrived. Their timing and mere presence threw the FBI into chaos as they were confronted. Amelia couldn’t help but snicker at the sight; Master Chief Avery had authorized naval police and made a phone call to the civilian agency to become embedded within Marshall operations. Their information, what they could gain from the crime scene was something they could use and would soon prove to be more reliable than other federal agencies. On the domestic hand, the Marshall’s gave them domestic capabilities preventing the red tape of bureaucracy from halting them.
Lieutenant Jones smirked, “I heard from one of the guys in your office, Malone; you all are really going to be getting involved with the FBI, huh? I suppose I can vouch for you all if they give you any trouble, but hot damn you got the fucking military involved. So much for covert arrests.”
“What do you mean?” Amelia asked.
“Just think about it sweetheart; this agency just conducted a botched raid against a local gang compound. That puts all of us, no matter the badge, on the map,” Jones explained, flipping through his notepad. “Here, in this backwater town of Idaho, the whole God damned federal government is crawling in our backyards. Not a good look, considering this all stemmed from one the Marshall’s cases.”
“Fair point, but that was a standard warrant, a fugitive,” Amelia argued. “I fail to see how the FBI taking on a cartel has anything to do with this.”
“Money? Hell, they probably saw you guys getting busy.”
“So, they’re jealous,” she speculated. “And that would make them act up out here.”
“Perhaps—I wouldn’t put it past them.” Jones sighed, “Wouldn’t know, I’m just a beat cop. In my opinion: It would be best to suspect that any criminal types will take advantage of this shadow war between the Department of Justice and its agencies.”
Amelia hummed to the surprisingly sharp lieutenant. She was curious what his views on magicians were like.
Unfortunately, she wouldn’t find out much more. To the buzz of her work phone, she silently picked up the device to read a message sent to her from Chief Wall. ESCALATION priority. Opening the message, she received a high-band transmission to all Marshalls in the state to be on alert for “dangerous magicians”, those within the C-Class and higher. Amelia herself was in B-Class according to the Department of Labor, and Department of Homeland Security scale. If Wall had come across intelligence of possible hostile magus activity within the state, this was going to be a very long day.
###
Sunday – Insider Threat.
It was a small house. Alex and his partner Richardson approached the property.
Richardson was the first up; he tapped his knuckles against the door.
“Sir, hello?” A young woman opened the door.
“Ms. Silverstone, I’m Alex with the United States Marshalls, do you have a moment?”
Her eyes darted between the two men. “Marshalls? Who are you people? Are you police?” She seemed hesitant.
“Yes ma’am,” Richardson said in gentlemanly voice. “We’re here to talk to you about your fathers passing last week. I believe some of us stopped by earlier?”
Alex noticed the door shutting slightly. He silently placed his left boot in the doorframe making the young woman take a deep breath. She’s spooked? He questioned himself. On a personal level, he never had the opportunity to get involved with the Silverstone case due to being pulled aside for a critique. “I’m sorry, but I need to pick up my soon in like ten minutes.” The woman quietly mumbled. Looking between each other, the two deputies remained silent, with Richardson shrugging his shoulder providing his answer to Alex’s question.
“Alright then ma’am, we’ll give a call next time,” Richardson said before turning around.
Climbing into the unmarked truck provided by the office, both Deputies remained motionless in their seats. Eventually Alex dared to break the silence as he tuned the ignition. Richardson grabbed a pile of burgers and fries sitting between his legs. He handed one of the wrapped burgers to his driver.
“It’s not what I expected, I don’t think we knew she had a kid. What was she, twenty years old—she looked a little young to be a mother,” Alex admitted his observations to his partner.
“I guess.” He seemed detached.
“No husband either, at least not what from I could tell from looking inside the foyer.”
“Unless we pull records, we can’t find anything for now. We don’t have the resources available, and we can’t exactly bring the rest of the family into witness protection. There’s no reason to rush this,” Richardson commented becoming annoyed.
“A request for something like that would have to go through court and get approval from a judge anyways,” Alex played cautious to the hostile tone.
“I can’t believe they took us off for that week,” Richardson scoffed.
“You can say that again.”
“I hate this shit.”
Placing his right hand on the gear, Alex put the truck into ‘drive’ as he depressed the gas pedal, letting the vehicle take off from the dirt road leading to the house.
He never could notice the subtle movement of Richardson’s thumb and pinky rubbing together.