Standing near the far side bar, Mike shuffled in the place he stood as he felt the princess doing the same on his right arm. She clutched his arm slightly tighter than she initially did; she was frustrated, and the way she kept averting her eyes only proved that she was bothered by the line of conversation happening. They both caught minor words from the person they spoke with, thought it was much easier to just simply ignore the men and their partners while giving subtle nods to indicate that they were coherent.

If it was up to Randall, he would choose not to engage with anyone he didn’t know at the event. Yet, Thompson wasn’t in the mood for dancing around the entire time, so his orders to strike up conversations with representatives of the governments and establish social connections was something that he didn’t truly appreciate, especially after PFC Simon had escaped from him. The boy was good at talking to people, yet he went with Corporal Richard…

They would only have to be at the ball for just four mor hours, but with a growing drowsiness, Mike kept himself in check as he repeated his old DIs voice in his mind.

“—I’ve spent a fair amount of time in the service myself.” The man he was speaking to said in a high-and-mighty tone making Lecca’s eyes lurch in annoyance, “Me and my mates were originally engineers in the 12th Armored Company, but after the civil war we both were rifted out to fill roles within the government.”

“I suppose it is good you are familiar with the innerworkings of any military.” Lecca’s words were clear and concise as she moved slightly closer to Mike when the man took interest in her sudden interjection.

“Three-hundred others once went with me through the military academy at the northern port of Cornwall. When the Empire still stood, almost half of the cadets were mere nobles that strived to serve their once great nation. Back then the nation still valued magical prowess over technology; the hierarchy was established by those that could effectively use magic without the tools of war displayed before them. I was not one of those men; me and fifteen of my brothers were humbled by our time in the academy, and we strived to rise high within the ranks of the military.” The man said.

“So, you can most definitely lead a company of soldiers into battle?” Mike poised a question making the man’s seemingly unbreakable confidence waver.

“I-I wouldn’t say I would be the best to oversee such a large amount of soldiers.” The man tried to talk back with his wavering voice.

Not wanting to draw the conversation out any longer, Mike looked up at the large clock at the main entrance to the ball, “My apologies, sir, but it appears we have to depart for now.”

Before the man could get another word out, Mike guided the princess attached to his arm towards the opposite side of the ball room avoiding the center dance floor. By the minute the hall was getting busier and more crowded. The main diplomats from the Federation’s sister countries had arrived, and along with their escorts, their families began to disperse around the hall looking for people to interact with.

The Sergeant could never get used to such fancy events. He had attended similar locales in his past, yet it never grew on him for good reason. Whenever he returned to the Regiment and was deployed to anywhere in the world, the gold decorations, Michelin star food, and expensive attire couldn’t ever be properly compared to the reality of the world. From the deserts of Africa to the sweltering hot air of Haiti, he could never get used to nor appreciate such events.

Again, like the time he spent in Pakistan before the invasion began, a light pain began to form at the front of his head and a cold sweat ran down the side of his head making him momentarily clutch the exposed skin with his left hand drawing the attention of the silver-haired maiden by his side.

Feeling a light tap on his shoulder, he hummed as he noticed Lecca looking up at him. “You’re, okay? It seems you might be ill.” She said softly placing her right hand on his arm.

“Just some memories…” Mike hummed again.

“Would you mind sharing?” She inquired gently resting her head against his arm.

Remaining silent to her words, images flashed through the Sergeant’s mind; from the helmet footage of the Marines in Africa, to the dead-glazed over eyes of Chief Warrant Officer Briner in Peshawar. “Some other time.” He waved off the princess’s offer as he spotted two familiar individuals walking over to their location.

Walking up in an orderly manner was none other than their primary target, Alice Sandoval. Escorting her was none other than her supposed close friend that went by the name of “Yu”. Gently turning to the two teenagers, Alice curtsied in a manner that reminded Lecca of her own years spent as a child.

“Greetings, Mr. Randall and Ms. Araish.” She said with a sweet voice as Yu nodded his head at the sergeant.

Letting go of Mike’s arm momentarily, Lecca mimicked the young girl’s actions but performed them with grace as her movements felt natural to her, “Greetings.” She chuckled out as she returned her left hand to the man’s side.

“It’s good to see you two, but I didn’t expect that you would both be here.” Mike said firmly as he looked over their heads towards the large crowds that occupied the ball room floor. “School put you up to this?”

“Something like that.” Yu answered vaguely.

“Either way, I hope you’re enjoying the ball. The timing feels off, but I guess things do work differently here.” Mike said while adjusting the bowtie around his collar. Turning his gaze back to Alice, the sergeant suddenly removed his hand from his collar as he saw the anger that the young girl’s eyes bathed in; she bit her lips trying to hide her emotions, yet her clenched fists and sharp eyes towards no one in particular was more than enough to end the conversation where it began.

“I’m sure we will.” Yu said as he grasped Alice’s small hand. “We’ll see you on the dance floor, sir, ma’am.” Walking away, Lecca held a wavering expression that balanced between uncertainty and concern.

“Do you think…?” She wondered aloud making her eyes widen at her man’s next words.

“The headmaster probably put them up to something.” Mike said, recalling how both of the students reacted to himself and the princess during their conversation and introduction two days ago. His eyes were almost listless as the two children vanished into the waves of couples and partners dancing on the main floor.

“Perhaps…” The word left Lecca’s lips as her eyes drifted across the crowds that were spread around the entire venue. Her hands clutched her partner’s arm tightly as she gently rested her head once more against him. She found it calming to be by his side; it was a feeling she hadn’t felt since she was just a mere child. A warm feeling flooded her chest, and the sunlight hid her gently light-red cheeks.

In a similar manner Mike scanned the crowd looking for anyone that stood out like a sore thumb. Other than the occasional patron that wore flashy attire, the only thing he found odd was that three members of his squadron walked around with partners in their arms towards the dance floor. He found the sight amusing, but it all made sense when he spotted Captain Thompson moving alone towards a table with an abnormally large amount of champagne sitting atop the covered surface.

Taking a sip from the glass he had chosen; the older man had flashed a curt nod to the two standing not far away before disappearing to talk to another set of governmental officials on the other side of the ball room. Trying to trace his movements, Randall ended up nowhere as his gaze settled on Corporal Richard who had momentarily appeared in a gap within the crowd with a golden-haired woman wearing a baby-blue, Victorian-styled dress in his arms. They too disappeared as the sergeant blinked several times not believing what he had just saw.

He didn’t know whether to feel happy for the Corporal or not… At least the mission given by his captain had been completed…

“I feel bad for the captain…” Lecca spoke softly as she breathed quietly while observing the large scene before them. “It is a shame he can’t properly enjoy such an extravagant experience at least once in a while…”

Mike chuckled to her words making her provide a light pout. “I don’t think you know him that well… He’s always been quite the anti-partygoer ever since I’ve known him. He’s never enjoyed going to parties, especially the “voluntary” ones our company commander always held at the end of each month.” He said holding back a smile while reminiscing both simpler and complex times in his past.

As the music began to change, more and more people began to step onto the ball floor and begin to dance. Briefly turning their heads towards each other, the gap between their lips was close as a smile broke across their faces. Taking the princess’s hand into his own, the two agreed in silence to enter the fray that was the dance floor.

The sergeant had once been the one to avoid dancing, his older sister quickly changed that when he was a young boy. Whenever he was free, his sister stole his free time and forced him to dance with her as it was her hobby; he could remember the countless nights where his older sister lectured him on the importance of balance and staying with your partner.

Lecca was much the same. Though it was her instructors that taught her, she still enjoyed the entertainment that came with dancing with a partner. Her life would never be the same, but she could at least enjoy the simple things as she remained nervous on her feet as she chose to dance with her partner.

First the movements were sloppy, but then they both adjusted to their style of dancing creating natural movements that complemented both styles that were on display for only them to see. Mike’s movements were direct and synchronized with Lecca’s who moved gracefully and beautifully within his grasp. Moving across the dancefloor they passed by their counterparts who were trying there hardest to keep up with the music playing, though neither dancer noticed the states they were in; neither broke their gaze, their brown eyes were all to be seen in the crowded world that was inhabited by the denizens of both the Federation and her sister nations.

This story has been taken without authorization. Report any sightings.

As her dress flared with her movements, Lecca kept close to her partner as each step they took was in step, and each move they made built a small bead of sweat on their faces. Releasing his hand from her waist, the silver-haired maiden twirled at the high point of the song being played; she gently spun back into the comforting grasp of Mike as the music slowed.

“Thank you for this dance, but I am feeling a bit parched.” Lecca whispered as she kept her soft eyes on the man before her.

“We should get a drink then.” With a small smile on his face, Mike directed their combined movements away from the dance floor and towards the corner they once stood away from anyone that wished to disturb them.

Letting her now warm hands grasp two champagne glasses, the princess passed one to her partner making him smile as he looked out towards the grand display of over 300 people dancing away to the steady music.

“Such a sight… I once saw such beauty when I was just a child…”

Looking over his shoulder, then turning to his partner, Mike wore a neutral expression, “I’m sure you’ll be able to see such things again.” He said while extending his arm that held his glass.

Mimicking his actions once again, the princess held her glass in one hand as she brought it before his own glass.

Only separated by just a mere two inches, both moved in synchronization as their glasses tapped against each other…

The sound of their glasses colliding sounded like glass shattering making several patrons scream. Staring at the glass in his hands, Mike instantly snapped towards the source of the screams as he noticed that his hand was in perfect condition.

He’d regret not brining his gun, but it’s not like it would matter anyways…

Forming a circle around a man wearing dark-colored clothes, the men of the OMFS that were responsible for providing security for the high-profile event all had their handguns drawn on the man as he stood up from the ground with a short sword in his left hand and an unknown pouch in his right.

Entering the hall from the main entrance, Lecca spotted Field Agent Wash moving with five other heavily armed men. The scattered to the edges of the hall as the person that had entered through one of the grand windows looked at the crowd of civilians that surrounded him.

“Put the fucking sword down!” An agent shouted as a squadron of eight men from the Federation’s Army began to evacuate high-value-individuals while scanning the premises for any other potential hostiles.

“Eagle is compromised.” Wash said into his left cuff as he kept his handgun in the low-ready. “Stage 2 response is in effect.”

“I’m not going to say it again! Drop the fucking sword!” The agent ahead bellowed as the entrance to the hall began to consistently overflow with the large amount f civilians present attempting to leave in a flurry.

Dropping the bag in his right hand, the man that had entered the venue switched his blade to his now free hand. The agents surrounding him continued to shout orders for him to comply, yet he never responded as his eyes finally landed on two people standing at the opposite side of the hall; it was a man with dark-brown hair—

And a woman with silver locks…

His hand tightened around his sword as it glowed a faint red, not taking any chances he readied himself as the agents’ fingers slipped into the trigger guards of their respective weapons. Taking another step forward, one of the agents breathed nervously, “Boss?” He said in his younger voice.

“Open—”

Before he could say the second word that crossed his mind, the Intelligence Officer found himself to be impaled by the short sword. Screams echoed throughout his mind as the remaining civilians still within he hall made a mad dash to escape; his blood coated the floor below him, and as the foreign object was removed from his body, he spotted the unknown hostile moving swiftly to the younger agent with intent to kill.

Moving in the blink of an eye, the man seemingly teleported as he cut the agents to pieces. The cries of the man being cut in half by his blade were drown out by the report of gunfire, yet none of the bullets fired would ever reach their target.

Taking the initiative and moving with three other agents, Wash engaged the hostile swordsman; the sounds of his pistol chambering another round played repeatedly as the two men beside him fired their bolt-action rifles sending a hail of bullets to the swordsman.

Four bullets made direct impact.

Four bullets failed to eliminate the threat as the pieces of led simply fell to the ground.

“Mike! Get her out of here!” Roaring over the confusion, Wash gave his last order as he spotted the two standing on the other side of the swordsman waiting for a chance to escape.

With a nod, the sergeant took his partner’s hand as he made a mad dash for the side entrance near them. The attacker shook his head as he refocused his attention of the crowd of civilians still trying to escape, many of which were diplomats and government officials. Clicking a button on the hilt of his sword, his blade folded inwards as half the metal emerged on the opposite side.

The smell of feces and blood covered the hall, and the crimson liquid from his foes dropped from the silver edge of his blade as he opened his eyes and lunged forward beyond the speed of any normal human.

Retraining himself from firing at the suspect due to the amount of civilians around, Wash sprinted through the crowd as he reached the swordsman who had just cut down another governmental official. “Stop!” He cried tackling the man while fumbling for his gun that had slid on the ground next to him.

Feeling a sharp pain in his shoulder, Wash crawled against the ground trying to reach for his gun. The two other agents that were with him struggled to hold the suspect down, yet their efforts were muddled as the weapon the man used pierced their arms and legs as he wrestled to escape.

“Put a round in him!” Screaming with a stream of blood escaping his right arm, one of the agents punched the swordsman repeatedly trying to subdue the inhuman attacker. His strength was starting to diminish, no doubt the result of the agonizing pain that ran across is abdomen.

Grasping his handgun, Wash followed the panic order he was provided as he shoved the black barrel of his handgun into the abdomen of the swordsman. The cries around him were drowned out as he repeatedly pulled the trigger over-and-over in a crazed state before the clicking of his now empty weapon played over the smell of gunpowder that escaped into the semi-open hall.

Flashing his blurry vision upwards, the young agent looked up at his two comrades that had slumped against the ground, dead. Breathing heavily taking in the heavy stench of blood, the young man noticed a red liquid escaping his left shoulder. Wine, champagne, and other alcoholic beverages littered the floor and mixed in with the thick sludge of blood, guts, and bone. Beyond the wooden doors that were open, sunlight highlighted his weary movements as he dragged himself towards one of the agents that had died.

Reaching out his left hand, his bloodied hand, Wash placed it on the deceased man’s arm, letting his wound spill out more blood onto the once polished marble floor.

Just next to him, the man he had shot seven times chocked on blood that covered the inside of his mouth as he suddenly flipped to his side, slamming his arm into the ground to stabilize his sudden movements. “You… survived…” Clutching his chest while rising from the ground, the man split blood as he looked towards the door where a large amount of OMFS agents and military personnel were waiting to storm the hall.

Looking towards the golden-haired agent, the man spoke in a gravelly voice, “You—Zivaland will want to avenge this massacre.” Stumbling towards the window he had broken into, the man narrowed his eyes, “W-Why, why do you people protect the one thing that should have never come to this country…”

Fumbling for a new magazine, Wash let his gun fall to the ground as he forced himself to use his left arm to search his coat.

“The power it holds is a curse, something that needs to be sent back to those that created it.” He said pointing a bloodied finger. “You will learn soon enough.”

“Looking at a single hostile center of the room. Gold 1, go for insertion.”

“Affirmative. Read over; five riflemen, one team leader, one medical specialist, one combat mage.”

“Read over confirmed. Thirty-seconds till end point.”

Hearing the radio communications in his ear, Wash pulled out the full magazine and struggled to place it into his handgun as the swordsman over him gave him a glare before launching himself out the window. Entering through the rear-stage, eight heavily armed men sprinted into the room as their weapons swept over the now-empty hall. Each moved with upmost professionalism as the medic within the squadron was escorted by one of the men.

“There!” Moving quickly and creating a defensive half-circle around Wash, the medic knelt beside him as the others moved towards the window where the swordsman started the massacre. “Don’t move!”

“Boss! Got a bag here!” One of the men called out as he and two others stood several feet from the bag left by the attacker.

“Explosive?”

“Unknown!”

“Check it out!”

Approaching slowly, one of the men slung his rifle around his chest as he knelt next to the bag. Taking off the leather gloves he wore, he brought out a combat knife as he touched the bag with his bare finger. Wash’s vision was taken away from the inspection as the medic attending him wrapped a bandage around his wound. “We’re going to get you out of here, son.” He said in a calming voice directing the squadron leader to his position.

“It’s not an explosive!”

“What the hell is it!?”

“There’s a gem inside!”

Turning his head away from the wounded agent, the squadron leader looked towards his men with suspicion as the one inspecting the bag placed it back on the ground as he backed away with his rifle in hand. Shifting his position, he stood up as he called out to one of his men, yet it went unanswered as the bag on the ground began to shift.

Only three seconds passed as the top of the bag widened and a floor of gas began to cover the hall. “Shit!” One of the men said as he inhaled the gas making his skin turn a deathly-white pale. Not wasting a second, the medic casted a defensive barrier on Wash as he and the others were covered in the green gas that flowed throughout the room.

With his body beginning to spasm and his hands moving to clutch his chest as if he were to dig out his lungs, Wash simple watched as the medic collapsed on the ground in front of him. The man vomited all over the ground; the green, blood-red bile soaked into the agent’s boots as all he could do was watch as he alone remained protected by the barrier set up by the man who was dying in front of him.

Cursing as he forced himself off the ground, the young agent leaned himself on a nearby table as he watched the squadron sent in to secure the venue die one-by-one. Noticing that the barrier around him had yet to fade, he took the time to take in his surroundings before spotting the main entrance. Hobbling on his shaky legs while clutching his bandaged shoulder, he opened the door and closed it as the warm sunlight kissed his skin along with the barrels of twenty law enforcement and military personnel pointed at him.

“Show me your fucking hands!” An officer shouted as he leaned against his patrol vehicle with his revolver.

“Get on the ground!” A soldier ordered keeping the iron sights of his rifle aligned on the agent.

As he complied, Wash saw Mike, and Lecca moving away from the scene being escorted by two soldiers towards what appeared to be a field outpost that was set up by the military response platoon that was deployed. He eyes were averted to the men walking up to him with their weapons drawn; he breathed heavily as they forced him to the ground and patted him down finding the extra spare magazine he had in his coat.

“Everyone away from the building! Decontamination units are on their way!” The Commanding Officer running the response ordered as Wash was forced onto his feet and exchanged into the custody of the Military Police on scene.

Publicly Available Information: Emergency Response Teams:

Overseen by the Military and the OMFS, ERT(s) are responsible for deploying and assessing any emergency event that happens within the Federation’s borders. Their mission is primarily damage assessment and providing medical aid to all peoples no matter who they are.

During times of crisis, such as war or acts of terrorism, the ERT(s) are the first to respond to such an event and hold the authority to direct and control all military and law enforcement organizations within areas of operations establish by the federal government.