ã€ŠThe Fallen Phoenixã€‹


 000: PROLOGUE

    For them, for their lives; from what they witnessed, they were heroes of death.

    - AMELIA.

    <u>PROPORTINAL RESPONSE</u>

    Punching the throttle, Amelia blazed through the desolate fields of Minidoka. Hollowing wind contorted the classic suit and tie associated with government employees.

    Less than a mile out from her destination, Amelia let the throttle go, gliding down the highway until she reached a comfortable speed of 40 miles per hour; the speed limit. In five minutes, she was 1000 feet from the target. From behind the polarized visor her eyes narrowed as beaming reds and blues reflected from the glass.

    "Go! Go!" A commanding voice emerged from a squadron car at the front of the property. Twenty Deputy Marshalls in olive-drab uniforms rapidly approached a small two-story house at the edge of the town. Their black rifles scanned every possible ambush point, poised for the kill.

    Bolting behind an armored truck, Amelia slammed her left boot into the kickstand as she threw off her helmet and opened the leather case on the rear of her motorcycle. Removing a form-fitting ballistic vest she stood behind the truck as she unstrapped the Velcro.

    "Amelia! What are you doing?" Looking up momentarily and tucking her crisp golden hair behind her ear, Deputy Marshall Alex White towered over her at 6''2. He fixed his helmet which was covering his deep brown hair, and he slipped his sunglasses over his blue eyes, struggling to fit them through the helmet straps.

    "I got the call last second," She groaned strapping the vest firmly around her breasts. "No one told me that this was going to happen without an FME!"

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    "Well, it came from the director."

    It always does, she rolled her eyes, making Alex sigh.

    Peeking from around the engine block, much to Alex''s dismay, Ameilia saw the breacher of the lead formation place a plastic explosive charge on the side door of the house. With a wire in his hands, the seven men stepped ten paces back.

    From where she was, it was impossible to see the detonator being pulled. However, a flash fire, dust, and wooden shrapnel were showing signs of the operators'' execution of the raid. As the boom of the explosion ripped across the yard, Amelia tucked her head behind the truck as the report of gunfire echoed throughout the property.

    Taking her place, Alex watched as the other Marshalls outside of the property waited patiently. He began to tap his fingers on the reinforced hood.

    "Mage! Mage!"

    As the gunfire went silent, a single Marshall sprinted out of the property, his clothes stained in a deep crimson.

    "He''s a fucking mage!"

    Alex''s face grew red. His blood boiled as he snatched the radio on his plate carrier, "All Marshalls withdraw!" He looked from the corner of his eye, "Amelia, what magic can you use?"

    "Anti."

    "Well do something!" She flinched to the power of his voice.

    "Right!"

    Turning on her heels and running out from behind the truck, Amelia never heard Alex''s shouts as she ran through the metal gate and down the dirt road leading to the house.

    Collapsing onto the dead grass, the fatally wounded operator was encircled by the remaining Marshalls, with the secondary team leader grabbing him by his harness and pulling him back. "Incoming FME! Jones, Richardson, Allen, give her cover!" He ordered; the three men broke off from the rest racing to intercept Amelia.

    Sweat accumulated all over her body as she rounded a corner next to the main entrance. The exact moment she reached the threshold to the side doorway, a man with stone embedded in his skin looked at her with bloodshot eyes.

    His upper torso was covered in maroon blood, and chunks of his flesh were missing exposing the shoulder bones and melted muscles.

    As he lifted his palms a weak groan escaped his lips.

    Slamming into the man''s side, Amelia used her momentum as she threw the suspect into the doorframe. His body collapsed to the ground and before he could move, she reached out her right hand.

    A jolt of electricity ran through her skin. Her hand began to glow a royal purple; mist escaped her pores raining upon the man. The stones in the man''s skin began to shrink and blood seeped from his wounds rendering him unconscious.

    Seconds later he died. Surrounded by the men he murdered.

 001: DESPERATE MEASURES

    <u>A WILTING FLOWER</u>

    Outside of Idaho City, and a touch away from Eagle, Amelia crushed the plastic cup in her left hand.

    Tossing the cup into the garbage can next to her, the golden-haired agent strutted away from the break room and cut through an empty hallway leading to the FME division office. Now wearing heels, every step reverberated in the empty space.

    Just before the heavy steel entrance, a familiar face waited for her. Tilting her already frustrated complexion upwards, it took a heavy amount of restraint to reel in her current distaste for life. There, James Malone stood silently, not bothering to make a sound as she approached.

    She''s pissed. It''s best I don''t interfere. Not that it would be my place anyways, the roughneck reserve sailor thought. Sparing one final glance at Amelia, it was clear that she was not going to let this moment of opportunity go.

    Malone shifted his neck back, letting his shaved hair rub against his folded skin. He had a small history with the prodigal daughter, and to have a confrontation was something he was looking to avoid.

    "...Malone?"

    Her voice was blunt, inhospitable. It was enough to convey that she did not want to draw out this interaction, that he wasn''t a threat. Letting her golden hair fall over her face, she looked up at the sailor.

    There was a new scar underneath his chin.

    A hollowing wind from outside the building took Amelia from staring at the man. She had only captured a glimpse of his worn-torn face.

    It was a consequence of being a radioman.

    Malone was no different. He has snapped away from staring at the newly minted member of the Marshalls. Though he was only a civilian contractor, they crossed paths twice when she went through indoctrination. Her sky-blue eyes still held a shield. And overall, her level of alertness had risen over her career.

    Who could blame her...?

    "Amelia, it isn''t every day."

    For a moment Amelia was pleased that the sailor had remembered her name, but then again, she wouldn''t be surprised if he had chosen to forget. Though limited, she had interactions with the radioman when she was being beaten during indoctrination. He was specially pulled aside by the cadre for this exact reason.

    It was unfortunate his company redesignated themselves to the northwest.

    "Indeed. It isn''t every day that we see our resident IT guy sitting outside of the office, alone."

    "Well of course. I don''t know what to tell you, they kicked me out. So, I''m stuck here for the time being."

    If Malone held any suspicion on why he was removed, he didn''t show it. But from his answer, he didn''t intend to share why he was present.

    No point in prying.

    This was the shared thought between man and woman. Neither wanted to get involved with each other''s duties, so the best thing that Amelia had chosen to do was end the exchange. She stepped around Malone and twisted the door handle open.

    "All immediate contacts with the FBI and Homeland Security have been lost," To the closing of the metallic door, Amelia encountered a large group of Marshalls that surrounded the FME department head, Sahra Zimmerman. The gray-haired, business strict woman tilted her head to see her, her amber eyes widening. "A representative from the Office of Naval Intelligence has requested us to investigate one of the blackouts. As of now, case file Alpha-one-niner-fiver, one Master Gunnery Sergeant Kyle Silverstone is our priority. As the former advisor and Senior-NCO to the Marine 5th Experimental Weapons Company, we have reason to suspect that he was targeted by cartels or the local gangs in the district. This has happened before, if you recall California two years ago."

    A single hand went up.

    "Can we expect this to be a repeat of the Reclaimers incident?"

    Death had encapsulated the outskirts of Pakistan. Peshawar was ground zero for an incident with a group of US Army Rangers that had went MIA for two years in 2112. The operation¡ªcarried out by Army Special Forces¡ªhad totaled to the elimination of over 1,000 men and women. It was the first time the United States had enacted a first contact protocol, but the exact specifications of what happened remained classified and kept under tight wraps even ten years later.

    "The Reclaimers. Her majesty''s direct-action unit."

    Despite being an odd thing to say within the United States of America, Alex smiled¡ªhe, being a Marshall, and a true-blooded patriot¡ªwas proud of their existence. One that was forged by the will and choice of Rangers.

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    "Their experience in dealing with extraterrestrial life is something we can''t rely on. This is home grown magic."

    Though Zimmerman was right, it was a shame that they couldn''t draw up the advice of living legends within the special operations community. One that had even gained infamy with the army intelligence corps.

    "We can say for sure that the queen has authorized specialists to keep our understanding of magic up to date. However, the price of their involvement in homeland security, a Department of Justice matter, would go beyond their scope. Foreign affairs aren''t my job, and even then, the authorization of foreign assets would be a gross misallocation of valuable resources."

    Alex tilted his head.

    "The fact that she even allowed beneath radar involvement with the world governments is crazy. They''re a monarchy, something we don''t take kindly with these days. You''d figure that we would try to take everything that they have to offer, yet we''re here, negotiating." Deputy Marshall Oliver West commented.

    "We can''t sustain war-after-war. Our engagements at the home front are currently a pressing issue. The Queen''s assistance is being treated nothing more than scientific aid. Any use of those advisors could lead to international conflict again, let alone more civil unrest."

    "I get what you mean," West continued. "But they would''ve had to know that getting involved with the military, the Marines, was a crazy idea to begin with."

    Alex cut in, "At the very least we can pull from some records, see if we can draw up a way to deal with magicians out in the wild."

    Opening her mouth, then silencing her thoughts, the department head distracted herself by looking behind her. From where Amelia stood, the gentle glow of the computer that she stared at hid her eyes.

    "Alright, you all have your assignments. If not, check your email. I want everything we can pull for this, especially since the DOD and DOJ have us by the balls."

    Amelia stepped forward, with the conversation never stopping, she was supposed to be here.

    "Ma''am¡ª"

    "Amelia," as the Marshalls around her dispersed, the Deputies leaving the room and the others returning to their partitions, Zimmerman provided a wry smile, "Let''s get a burger.''

    An order...

    ###

    "One XL burger and stacked bacon cheeseburger!"

    Like the previous week, overcast clouds took the sun from the world, and heavy snow was dumped from the heavens above. The white powder covered everything all throughout town. The cars, shops, bodegas. Amelia herself only kept warm through wearing her cousins NWU parka she had stolen years ago. The type-v digital camouflage contrasted against her mute grey suit she wore. And to the everyday person, she looked odd.

    The entire office was on lunch break until 12:30. From her disposition this normally would''ve been ideal, yet she was taken to a small burger joint at the edge of town called Jimmy''s. For anyone else this was bad news. Amelia knew personally after a few interactions with Zimmerman. The heavy weight in her stomach didn''t help as she quietly sipped on her soda, waiting for the moment when she would begin raining fire.

    Even if her suspicions were on target, she didn''t have a choice to voice her opposition. Not when it came to the most senior case agent standing in front of her¡ªdemolishing an XL burger.

    Yet, the thought was tempting...

    Along the way Zimmerman had offered to invite other coworkers out, amongst them, Alex. Though Amelia could admire the deputy, this wasn''t the time to enjoy the pleasure of life, not when the way she ordered her to lunch seemed like a death sentence.

    "It''s not everyday we have a burger in a snowstorm. Having America''s finest in a veil of white. It sounds like paradise."

    Amelia looked up from the destroyed portion of her burger, "A break like this isn''t always bad. The office was getting a bit warm for my liking anyways."

    "Then we can be glad that this break exists. Beyond that, I wouldn''t imagine letting the guys now about this place. I can only trust Williams and Alex, but even then, they might try to share it with that new computer system that''s been running around the office lately."

    Their conversation of the weather, office politics, and the last few cases would end with bitter smiles. Naturally the last thing that was mentioned was the botched mission in the boonies.

    Looking up from her frozen seat, all the silent agent could do was gleam at the glamorous and shining skyscrapers that surrounded the town. Within the confines of Nampa, the cities all around had expanded as humanity reached for things even beyond the stars. From the corner of her eye, a four-by-four passed by, filled with two women and three men from the US Army. They were all green; those that had just graduated basic military training and their follow-on training.

    Compared to the likes of herself and the green soldiers escaping their instructors on leave, Zimmerman remained the classy woman she always was. She tapped her fingers over the pure black suit she had purchased for her position, and she tightened the strap of the issued cold-weather trench coat. Her peircing gaze tore through the remnants of her burger and eventually calmed, settling on Amelia.

    Zimmerman''s lips thinned. The edges began to contort upwards providing an eerie smile to Amelia. The golden "princess" felt the edges of her face tighten. She was lucky the falling snow concealed some of her unsettled expression.

    What she held; it wasn''t an innocent smile.

    "We''re no strangers to your family, Amelia Violet. Despite your accolades in both schooling and performance since becoming a member of the Federal Magus Enforcer, we both know that the ties to the Violet conglomerate hold you back. Never once have I seen someone so divided on their own blood¡ªthe truths you loathe, that dissuade you from ever coming to terms with the truth."

    "....."

    The truth...

    Zimmerman''s smile disappeared. She had seen enough. Though the truth, the way she presented it would give distrust.

    "Even if you want to keep your secrets¡ªwe all do¡ªknow that it will affect you when you go out on patrol... If it''s not addressed, you will become nothing more than someone that is attached to their past, one that will control them, eventually killing you and those you love. Surely you want to see Jackson again?"

    Amelia''s eyes sharpened. The ocean blue of her eyes glowed, the shimmer of light was more than enough to wash the pride away from the department head.

    "Your brother called my office. He wants you to resign."

    "And your answer?" Amelia snapped. She did not have time for this.

    Zimmerman released a stifled chuckle, "As long as you''re useful, there''s no reason to look up an article for separation."

 002: BLEACHED TO THE BONES

    <u>THE MUSTANG</u>

    Despite not having many public appearances, the Marshall service had a unique relationship with the local community. Just at the edge of town, there was a quiet and reserved hospital and hospice care center for the elderly. Here, remnants from years past. From wars past. There were no ghosts, but the walking dead, and mortally wounded were left here. Left to burn under the sun as humanity slowly crawled away from the old wars that spanned the African, and Eurasian continents.

    Amongst silenced officers, and scarred enlisted, those that found themselves in between the forces of forgotten medals and honored intentions found their sanity chipping away. The constant screams, crying, and falling morale was unlike anything the regular man could hope to prepare for.

    As an outside entity, the Marshall service saw this place as death.

    Less than an hour away, traffic clogged on highway 84 kept Amelia Violet locked in a dazed dream. Her mind wandering far away from her body as the slow fields passed.

    The only people that witnessed her listlessness were the other three trapped in the car alongside her.

    Her current residency was just outside of Caldwell and provided a comfortable distance from the office. However, due to her proximity and experience within the city and surrounding population, she was often saddled with outreach responsibilities. Something that, although was important, wasn''t at the top of the agencies concerns. How many people had she met? Her last escapade took her out to Huston high school, almost an hour west of Nampa. When not assigned to a case, she ended up finding herself dealing with the reveling and annoying children of Idaho. Though the pressure was present from her superiors; to make the best first impression, she enjoyed the more rambunctious moments with the children.

    Time and time again their cries were drowned out by the steady tempo of gunfire. Still, even with her proficiency with a rifle, shotgun, and pistol, it was always magic that captured her practicality. Nullification: one other held such power...

    When was it again...? Her power had sprung early in her teenage years. Once nothing more than constant studies and musical talent to stir her ability to take over the conglomerate her family was in control of, it was the awakening of her magic that turned the course of her life. From a trumpet, to casting melodies through her palms. Half-notes, breaks, and choruses were exchanged for suspects and criminals.

    Until that day she had spent her entire life all the same: She went out to perform beyond the capabilities of the average woman. And after that day? The expectations grew. Inhuman, that was what she was to become within the world of private ventures and unyielding magic. Hours, days, months, years. Time dragged her against the asphalt.

    "¡ªa"

    Even if she had any desires left, she only believed that this life was it. Amelia had questions, but to seek answers would jeopardize everything.

    "...Amelia"

    Why would she change?

    "Hey, Amelia."

    Shuddering as the winter snow slammed against her body, Amelia looked up to see Public Affairs Officer Miranda Young. The PAO was standing just outside of her car door making a puzzled expression. This was the first time she had seen Mirana like this. It didn''t make any sense why she seemed inquisitive.

    "Ma''am?"

    "Amelia... You''ve never been so quiet before." Miranda said leaning on the door.

    A path of footprints emerged from the left of the vehicle, moving away from the entrance.

    "Showtime. Let''s go."

    The Chief Branch Officer of the Marshall Officer, Michal Wall, adjusted his winter coat. His greying hair reflected the white light, and he brushed loose snow form his arm. The atmosphere around the agents grew thin. Amelia found it hard to breathe as Chief Wall moved away from the vehicle.

    Flanking his sides, Amelia, Miranda, and Agent David Sanchez shuffled through the growing snow of late 2122.

    At the primary entrance to the building, Chief Wall placed his bare hand on the frozen metal as he pulled it open. It took a fair amount of effort from the old man¡ªyet the marks in the snow yielded and allowed him to enter. Upon entering he let out a heavy breath.

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    From the blistering cold, Amelia''s breath was clearly visible. She embraced the contrasting; boiling building as light sweat began to form on her body. Stripping herself of the heavy pea coat she had, Amelia practically stood bare: nothing but her form fitting suit complimented by a 9mm handgun adorning her right hip, the top of the weapon hidden by her blazer.

    "Sir, are we still on time?"

    "Yeah, sorry for the wait." Miranda chirped.

    "We''re good... don''t mention it."

    Wearing a thin smile, Wall turned around and led the three towards the second entrance leading to an auditorium. Amelia, and Miranda followed closely behind him, while Agent Sanchez trailed behind.

    Before they reached a set of doors, an elderly man stood to the side, adjusting his plaid shirt and brown trousers. He wasn''t elegant by any means. He looked like the typical farmer type that you would find in rural Idaho. And though he was by appearance, the only thing that set him a part was a black baseball cap that had three words embroidered on the top: OPERATION SILVER STRIKE.

    Chief Wall scrunched his face, "Lieutenant General Nicholas Hoover."

    "I don''t wear the uniform anymore." The old man huffed.

    "Yeah, not since Pakistan. Are they still treating your cancer?"

    "It''s stable, but you agency types should know that already."

    Through he glass doors Amelia could see a collection of elderly patients and a handful of attending nurses all waiting for their arrival. Holding her breath, General Hoover stepped to the side and held the horizontal handles on the doors. He pushed them open and stepped inside the room. Slowly tracing his footsteps, Amelia as last in the room...

    The doors behind her slammed...

    Waving her hand, Amelia''s voice was soft, "I didn''t think you were one to smoke."

    Amongst the snow, the citizens of Idaho began to celebrate the Christmas season. Decorations, lanterns, and beautiful lights were strung for the Holy holiday.

    Were it not for the corpse surrounded by county Sheriffs, it would''ve been a perfect night.

    "He''s an old fashion guy," Chief Wall murmured as he dragged another puff of his cigar. "You don''t see guys like him every day."

    Amelia remained silent as she turned to the corpse.

    Master Gunnery Sergeant Kyle Silverstone was dead. He had died from a gunshot wound to the temple.

    A point-blank cavitation... The blood had long dried, but it ruined his cardigan and sleek brown trousers. The blue tie he wore was stained with crimson liquid; its shine came from the moonlight shinning upon the town.

    As the criminal investigators and forensic scientist arrive on scene, Amelia, and Chief Wall saw a gray Toyota Corolla come to a swift stop nearby.

    Alex rushed over to the scene, throwing a deep-blue jacket over his shirt. "Lia, Chief. What''s going on?"

    "Lia, really?" The blonde agent asked, amused.

    Alex flashed a toothy grin before he turned his attention to the corpse. He scratched the itchy 5''O clock shadow that had grown on his face after the workday. His dark brown hair was roughly combed, done in a haste to look presentable. The rest of his clothing was substandard. Nothing more than an olive drab button down, blue jeans, and brown work boots.

    "So, what are we looking at?" He asked.

    "Pedestrians got spooked when they hear an ''explosion''," Chief Wall grumbled. "First responders were firefighters that were here for the parade. You two go take a date and find them." Patting Alex on the shoulder, their superior casually walked through the snow and disappeared behind several abandoned vendor stalls.

    Lowering his gaze, Alex felt his eyebrow raise as he eyed the 5''10 blonde beside him.

    "So, Lia, huh?" Amelia sheepishly said. She folded her hands behind her back as she faced away from the Deputy and slowly wandered off towards the cordoned section which local police had turned into their outpost. Brushing most of her golden hair into a side plait. The cops and paramedics securing the scene watched her with weary eyes as she cut through the command tent.

    To the front of the command tent, a local precinct sergeant remained hunched over his phone, "Now listen here, I already got them sheriffs up my ass, and the last thing I want to do is hand this over to the God damn feds." Looking up from his phone, the man cursed as he hung up.

    "Do I need to identify myself?" Amelia sheepishly asked, understanding the bad reputation her type brought.

    The sergeant let out a low chuckle, "For paperwork, yes ma''am."

    Fishing for ID, Amelia handed it for to the police sergeant.

    "Hm?" The man looked up at her, "Not bad."

    "At least we''re not the FBI, if that helps."

    Letting out a laugh, the sergeant grabbed his cup of piping hot coffee and motioned for Amelia and the rest to follow. "Right. Anyways sweetheart, if ya''ll going to be taking over this case, meet the prime witness." He turned the corner of the table and stepped to the side.

    Sitting in a metallic chair drinking his own cup of coffee, an African American man with a clean shaved head and a squared away mustache looked up at Amelia with an eyebrow raised.

    "Zach, this is Amelia Violet, US Marshalls. Amelia, this is Zachary Johnson, one of our local firefighters that work at station 15."

    "Lia¡ªyou look like hammered shit." Zachary said downing the rest of his coffee.

    Both Chief Wall and Alex looked at each other with suspicion.

    "You two are acquainted?" Alex questioned, curiously.

    Amelia silently gazed upon Zachary. Her eyes drifted to the deep-cutting scar that adorned his chest, the top of it only being visible at the tip of his shirt collar. It wasn''t the only one he had, multiple wounds covered his arms, and perhaps more were hidden beneath his clothes.

    "We''ve known each other since high school." Zachary cooly answered, "I remember when you were just an ordinary bookworm, Lia."

    "You don''t have to remind me."

    Chief Wall enjoyed the display; however, he needed his agent to business, "Sir, I appreciate your cooperation with local law enforcement in light of the murder, however there are some extenuating circumstances, and I would have to kindly request that you come with us to our office."

    "Hold on partner¡ª"

    "I require my lawyer to be present." Zachary declared interrupting the sergeant.

    "Every single time..." Alex murmured.

    Zachary smiled to that.

 003: PRINCESS REAPER

    OF HER ACCORD

    Eighteen years. That amount of time, the beginning of her life, was dedicated to her then future life of taking over her family¡¯s conglomerate. Unlike her reputation as a quiet, studious person, her younger years were spent making connections in the wider world. She was thankful for everything that was taught to her. Amelia was a bright girl, one that could easily adapt to whatever challenge was thrown at her. The trade off was her social capabilities. Yes, she may have been used to networking. But that was it.

    Her younger brother had already taken up his stint in local politics. He used his resources and connections to become the governor of the state he lived in, Pennsylvania. Though the same, they both shared the life of this world in two different ways.

    Jackson Violet made policy. She served alongside investigators. He rallied the people, gave them strength. She hunted down the guilty; gave the criminals reason to fear the dark. Violet. Not known amongst the common household, but infamous enough to gain attention in the domestic space. No one knew of their origins. No one knew of their futures.

    Amelia gave it much thought, her place in this world. To humanity, her existence was of little relevance. She would continue to serve, provide, give back¡ªshow herself and her family¡ªto these people. In truth there was little foresight that she would end up in her position within the US Marshalls Service. The cr¨¨me de la cr¨¨me of all federal law enforcement agencies. In hindsight she would laugh that she became a federal agent, something that was despised by all Americans. The comfort she held in her position was something that kept her distracted. She didn¡¯t live by the gun, SOG. And she wasn¡¯t the one kicking in doors, serving warrants, like the Deputies. Magic was new to the world, untapped. Amelia was a conduit; one of control, temperance.

    Following MGySg Kyle Silverstone¡¯s death, NCIS and liaisons from the Office of Naval Intelligence fought to take lead over the case. It had been a week since they first wandered into the office. Their prior demands of involvement with the Marshalls had turned into requests for full control. The tangibility of what was to come was blaring; they men and women they provided to office was abnormal. The resources? Limited. They could only chase possible leads against the local cartels and gangs. It was something that bothered Amelia.

    Do they think this is some joke? Her frustrations grew by the hour. Chief Wall had the unfortunate opportunity to sit with the director of the Marshall Service. The incident in Idaho had gained attention within the organization. It was initially played as a failure upon the local office, but skeptical members of the board and DOJ stayed their criticisms opting to wait for the truth.

    ¡°Lia,¡± The agent turned to the call of her voice. Alex looked constrained in the suit he wore in the office on this Friday afternoon. Though it was tailored to his body, each movement he took was restrained by the fabric. He¡¯d much rather be in uniform or in his normal loose civilian clothing. Not that he didn¡¯t enjoy looking sharp and put together¡­ His time in his hometown Sherrif¡¯s Department taught him as much.

    He like Amelia was trapped here. 3375, the collection of Deputies operating out of the office were currently under internal review and being critiqued by their immediate chain of command. Incidents such as Silverstone¡¯s death often grinded all cases to a standstill. It forced them to outsource their cases to local departments. Everyone was frustrated. This was not how it was supposed to happen.

    ¡°Alex,¡± Amelia hummed, her gently voice barely reaching him, ¡°How is it?¡±

    ¡°The report is being sent up. We¡¯ve been cleared to get back to service warrants. We start Monday,¡± he grumbled tapping his foot against the floor. A hollow smile formed on her face. Miranda had stepped into the fray between the higher ups and Zimmerman. She couldn¡¯t do much, but she prevented any repercussions against anyone assigned to the case. Now, an opportunity to set things right presented itself; Alex was eager to capitalize on it.

    ¡°Wonderful¡­¡± Amelia¡¯s sarcasm wasn¡¯t unnoticed. Alex provided a smirk. ¡°Hey, you think you could grab me a soda?¡± She calmly asked. Withdrawing a small card from her blazer, Alex stared at the red card before silently nodding and snatching it from her hand. Turning around the hallway corner, the deputy swiped the card on the vending machine; it took 5 seconds, but upon arriving back to the FME agent, he presented her with a brisk cold drink.

    ¡°Amelia,¡± Alex said watching her, ¡°There was a file I saw said you were to be reassigned to a task force being created. I can¡¯t be sure that anything is happening, but are you sure you can handle things at the front? That warrant we served¡­¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll be alright,¡± Amelia said with a fading smile.¡± Even within the service not all personal were issued firearms. In her position within the FME, cleared and qualified with magic, she was authorized to carry a duty pistol during official matters when in the field. Her handgun sat uncomfortably within the holster she wore, and the more she moved that, and the spare magazines dug into her hip.

    ¡°Yeah, I know,¡± he folded his arms, ¡°Those warrants, you¡¯ll have my guys with you.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll take it when we get here. Zimmerman, she should know what will happen whether it will be my reassignment, or we get authorization to continue with our case.¡± She surmised that this would stretch longer than anticipated. Local law enforcement had attempted to play their hand in the case only to come up dry. They were being stalled by naval intelligence and law enforcement. Not to mention, the city police chief was looking to gain personal glory.

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    Glory¡­

    ¡°This is what we intended! What we wanted!¡±

    ¡°Who are you¡ªto stop them!¡±

    ¡°SHOW YOUR LOYALTLY!¡±

    Why did she purse her lips?

    ¡°Amelia, your phone is ringing.¡±

    ###

    The winter season always started¡ªfor me¡ªduring the falling golden lights of October. I, Amelia Violet, have lived in this world watching the cycle of life and death; how the cold removed the beauty of the world and replaced with a glamouring wasteland. Time and time again I have seen and heard the joyfulness of youth crossing this wasteland, and here I remain, staying my feet and watching.

    We¡¯re in a new world, one that was troublesome. We stood in a void, created by nothing and everything. Such a place held no bias, no emotion. This was a place where the truth was revealed.

    Here I am trapped. My whole life has been a race to break free, to become independent of life itself. I was never the one to choose my own future, let alone dream of it. Isolation was my only answer. No friends, allies, family. Being hard to approach, showing others that leaving me would spare them any harm was comforting. And now in falling snow I would wait for spring to arrive once more. The process would repeat of life and death, of this silence. I hated winter. And that¡¯s why I love this time of year.

    ###

    ¡°Zachary.¡±

    She expected to hear from someone within her family¡ªJackson, or William Violet, her father. The person on the other side she had just encountered the week before; it was a spectacle running into someone from her high school days, but she supposed that since he was tied to the case, there was little she could do if it meant avoiding him or anyone else in close association.

    ¡°Hey, Amelia,¡± the firefighter said with an extended yawn. ¡°The local cops have been busting my ass, how are things on your end?¡±

    Hearing a door behind her shut gently, she looked over her shoulder towards the empty hallway. With a miniscule smile, she rested against a nearby window and looked out to the snow-covered world beyond the comfort of the office. The cold glass bit against her warm skin, making her shiver.

    ¡°I¡¯m doing alright; considering everything,¡± Amelia answered removing her arm from the window. ¡°Everyone¡¯s fine too.¡±

    ¡°¡­Right, well I¡¯m glad to hear that.¡±

    She closed her eyes. Opening them, her world was slightly blue, ¡°We¡¯re going to be getting back to work, Zahcary.¡±

    ¡°Jesus.¡±

    ¡°Yeah, tell me.¡±

    He seemed hesitant to continue the conversation even if he was the one that initiated the phone call. Amelia¡¯s grip on the phone tightened as her hand began to gently sweat. Her eyes darted all around the empty building; curious thoughts of where her fellow employees were racked her mind, ¡°Amelia, what does that mean?¡±

    ¡°¡­¡±

    ¡°For me of course.¡±

    ¡°From being out star witness? I can¡¯t say much more, not that I know anyways,¡± Zachary frowned to the answer. ¡°I¡¯m sure you¡¯ll be pulled in for more interviews at least.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re sure?¡±

    ¡°Best as I can be.¡±

    Really Amelia? ¡°Hey, you¡¯re still involved with all this, right?¡±

    ¡°Zach,¡± her eyebrows narrowed. Her voice was irritable, ¡°If there¡¯s anything you could gain from this, I¡¯m sure that anyone else would be more than willing to help you.¡±

    Zahcary chuckled. He knew her all too well, ¡°Amelia, we don¡¯t need you trying to turn away any help. This isn¡¯t high school anymore. Those snakes are long gone.¡±

    He¡¯s wrong.

    ¡°I appreciate it then.¡± Amelia said having some trouble imagining what a firefighter could do with an investigation, ¡°When the time comes, I¡¯m sure you¡¯ll be useful in court.¡±

    ¡°Real funny, Amelia.¡±

    ###

    ¡°With the senator¡¯s approval we did what was necessary. The provocation by them was more than enough to rally our supporters and provide enough sway to give an opening to send our forces in against Aldrich. The Federation is appealing to help us.¡±

    Mike Randall-Arish glanced from the heads-up-display on his sunglasses. The bell-like voice her heard was just to the right of him, near a balcony. His face scrunched at the comment she made; this wasn¡¯t the first time they had to wait for a senator¡¯s approval to initiate direct action operations in foreign nations, and this certainly wouldn¡¯t be the last. Considering the target was the former king, there was much to consider when taking action.

    He would know it personally. Every single day he woke up with a phantom pain. His left arm¡­

    A distinct memory came to him. A group of agents from CID and NSA visited him here in the capital of Glacies¡ªtheir mission was to determine if he was a threat.

    ¡°If we go ahead with this¡ªthen he¡¯ll become a martyr. Lecca, you¡¯re looking at making yourself a villain here. If we are to kill¡ª¡±

    ¡°Right,¡± Lecca-Maradel Arish, the queen, nodded. ¡°We have initiated a smear campaign against Aldrich: Not that we needed to do anything anyways.¡±

    Mike smiled at his wife. She did the same to him.

    Reclaimers: The true heroes¡­

    ¡°I¡¯m sure we can prop you up as some kind of demon slayer¡ªKing Aldrich sure as hell fit that billet just from the manipulation he had after the revolution. He and Senator Orpheus were the ones who orchestrated everything.¡±

    ¡°...¡±

    Mike stood and walked over to his wife. Embracing her in a warm hup, he used his only hand to brush her silver hair.

    ¡°We don¡¯t need to be soldiers anymore. We still protect our people, but we don¡¯t go hunting anymore,¡± he whispered.

    As her head lowered, Lecca tightened her grip around her husband.

    ¡°What do you think your daughter would think of this?¡±

    Removing his embrace, Mike stared with an amused look.

    ¡°I would bet with such a title: mischievousness,¡± Lecca chirped. ¡°She¡¯s a ball of energy, and if you bother telling a ten-year-old girl that her mother is a ¡®demon¡¯ slayer, I could imagine she would get ideas with the Royal Guard. She was able to do with Captain Maximus before he retired, and she might even bring you into the fold.¡±

    Mike didn¡¯t argue. His daughter¡¯s rambunctiousness came from his blood.

    ¡°...Pfft.¡± Mike still couldn¡¯t help from chuckling at Lecca.

    ¡°Hey!¡± Her face flushed with red as she nestled her flustered face into the chest of her husband. ¡°She takes after you! I can¡¯t help it if you pull something like that.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯ll be fine.¡±

    Holding her hand, Mike slowly led Lecca away from the balcony. Their next stop just so happened to be their daughter¡¯s induction into the reserved officer commissioning corps. Yovanna Kait Arish: She was the embodiment of them both. And now as the crown princess, she strove to become the best amongst anyone.

    Perhaps even themselves.

 004: LIGHTNING RUN

    <u>HERE WE GO</u>

    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.

    The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

    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¡ªI 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 ¨C 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¡ªshe 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.

 005: AVID CHORDS

    <u>NO MEMORY</u>

    Amelia turned to the soft humming of her fan. Keeping her eyes closed, she slowly stirred to the buzzing noise. Even though it was in the middle of winter, she had become accustomed to sleeping with white noise. Letting out a soft moan, her eyes cracked open reveling nothing but darkness. Her apartment was completely empty, with only a few stray personal belongings strewn about the furniture that came with the cheapest place she could find on the market.

    With some effort she slipped out of her bed and wandered to the window on the opposite side. Her fingers grazed the frozen glass. The heat of her breath¡¯s warmed a minuscule part but was swiftly reclaimed by mother nature. Snow continued to fall in the area she lived. As of recent it had begun to slow, giving a chance for the people in her community to breathe. A smile crept upon her lips as she stepped away, walking on the groaning wooden floor.

    0200, Why did I wake so early?

    Her pale skin was illuminated by the screen of her cell phone. She saw notifications from all of her in use applications. Basic social media and emails from all the investments she had bought into in the last five years. Her eyes arched at a recent bank transaction, but she thought nothing of it. Her brother had been slowly flowing money towards her in hopes of reconnecting with her. She loved him, but the damage her family did to her was too much to get tangled in such a mess again.

    Sitting on the edge of her bed, she grasped the water bottle she had from indoctrination and gulped it down at a rapid pace. Her parched throat returned to a more comfortable condition, and she smoothed out her frazzled hair. Why am I here again? The question perplexed her. It was something that she had repeatedly asked herself upon being assigned to the office in Idaho. Her duties as a Federal Magus Enforcer were something still new to the world. For any other man they would be astounded by the prospect of having such a rare duty and cherishing the responsibilities at the spearhead of the new world revolution. For Amelia her spot in this world was only guaranteed by a reem of papers. There was nothing more to this life, nothing that I could ever want. Was it that her view on reality was warped? Perhaps. If she needed to question her own existence already, it would be best to put all worries aside and just continue living.

    She was used to that much.

    Peering from the shrouded heavens, moonlight shone upon her apartment. Soon enough the light would fade, giving way to the sun once more. Life and death. Duality of man. Raising her hand to the edge of the light¡ªnot in it¡ªshe released a burst of magical energy. Purple, blue hues encapsulated her room. Like kryptonite she was the end to everything magic. Closing her hand and returning it to her side, she could only wonder¡­

    Lecca-Maradel? That was the queen¡¯s name? Amelia had never met her; she had never seen her. Under authorization from POTUS and Secretary of State, they had released a very limited list of federal employees that had magical abilities. She was one of the fifteen chosen¡ªshe was the only one that was revealed to be Anti-Magus. Ironically enough, the queen could have only bothered to have sent a personal letter to her. It was nothing more than political appeal. All she could remember doing was tossing it into the trash later that day.

    ¡­

    Could it have been different?

    It was an invite. A possible way for the queen to¡ª

    ¡°Shit.¡±

    Swiping her phone with haste she looked at the latest notification. It was unexpected conference call between Chief Wall and Alex. Her finger hovered over the green button waiting to be dragged across the screen. What do they want? She asked herself.

    ¡°Good morning.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m surprised you¡¯re up. We expected you to be sleeping.¡± Chief wall responded.

    ¡°Obviously I¡¯m not¡­¡±

    The two men chuckled to Amelia¡¯s answer. Despite the early reveille Amelia, she didn¡¯t immediately find the urge to hang up on either caller. In fact, she was enjoying this sudden talk, even so early in the morning.

    ¡°Of course. Enjoying the snow?¡±

    ¡°I may say I love winter, but being stuck inside isn¡¯t the best thing. I¡¯ll admit that.¡±

    Bringing her face away from the phone, she said something uncaptured by the device.

    ¡°Alright, I¡¯ve got something for you and Alex.¡±

    ¡°What¡¯s going on? This call isn¡¯t something normal.¡±

    ¡°We know, Amelia.¡± Alex calmly said.

    ¡°So?¡±

    ¡°I need you two to check out the origin of everything. Where this shitshow started. It¡¯s imperative that the evidence that was collected wasn¡¯t compromised or left behind. If the FBI is trying to put pressure on us, we need to know why.¡±

    ¡°Back to the beginning, eh?¡± Alex almost chuckled, ¡°Amelia are you on board? What do you think?¡±

    ¡°I¡ªum. I was just¡ª¡±

    It was an apt question, one that didn¡¯t initially make sense to her. Investigators were usually the only ones granted authorization to return to a crime scene and treat it as such. A question like this was normally something to be left to a lawyer or judge, but surprisingly she and Alex had received authorization, not from Chief Wall, but the Ohio State Affairs representative.

    ¡°Again, what do you think of this?¡± Alex said as department head Zimmerman entered the room. ¡°Ma¡¯am, come on over, Chief Wall just briefed us on the DESTROYER operation.¡±

    ¡°Really?¡± The old woman was genuinely surprised as she sat beside him, ¡°I didn¡¯t imagine that Wall would pull you both for this.¡±

    ¡°Zimmerman, we can¡¯t pull anyone else to handle this. At least those not under watch,¡± Wall mentioned gaining curious looks from both Alex and Amelia. ¡°This information¡ªclassified in nature¡ªcan hold the keys we need to at least solve the case¡­ not to mention the tampering.¡± Wall¡¯s prospective of the matter was protecting the office, and the entire organization. Any conclusion he could draw only had that one purpose.

    Alex took a light breath. He reevaluated what they were being asked.

    ¡°DESTROYER, Amelia,¡± Zimmerman directed, waving at her. ¡°If there is interference with the investigation, you¡¯re the only one that can stop any magus attacks.¡±

    ¡°Ma¡¯am, I would be willing to bet that anything alternative to what we are doing would have more effect. The FBI is the main target, they¡¯re stalling us,¡± Amelia said, maintaining a steady and thoughtful expression. It was important to remain skeptical. Of all the opportunities to find out what happened to Silverstone, why his daughter was skittish to an interview¡­ She needed to be sure.

    ¡°You¡¯re not wrong, but resistance is something we¡¯ll handle. Not you,¡± Zimmerman stated. ¡°If they want to take over; it¡¯ll be misinformation that¡¯ll come out of all of this.¡± A sigh escaped her lips. The thought did occur to the department head to utilize Amelia in this upcoming battle against the sister agency.

    ¡°We¡¯ll continue giving you insight into what¡¯s happening. Provide you with operational¡ªactionable intel.¡±

    ¡°And what of the Navy?¡±

    ¡°The Master Chief will remain in contact.¡± Wall chuckled, ¡°That¡¯s my job, dealing with him.¡±

    Zimmerman nodded, ¡°Amelia, Alex, there¡¯s going to be a lot of variables with this one¡ªmany that we can¡¯t track, and even more than we can expect. We trust you with this, but in the slightest sign of danger you immediately call for help. There¡¯s too much riding on this to lose assets such as you both.¡±

    Wall added. ¡°People are out there, our people. In addition to the Navy¡¯s cooperation, we¡¯re looking at the few personal scattered around dealing with more than they can chew. Our Marshall office is on a two-pronged strike. Answers will come from the FBI, the cartels, the criminals. York should know.¡±

    ¡°Commissioner, York, chief?¡± Alex asked.

    Amelia raised an eyebrow, ¡°The city commissioner?¡±

    ¡°You know him?¡± Zimmerman questioned.

    ¡°My mom worked with him back in the day before she passed. Apparently, he was the one responsible for the crackdown on narcotics that were flooding from adjacent states. Makes him a decent guy in my book.

    ¡°If you¡¯re suggestion that we borrow his already thin resources¡­¡± Zimmerman paused. ¡°He¡¯s already providing enough as it is. But if we are to request full support, then a meeting with him, and the city mayor will be in order. If that¡¯s going to happen, you¡¯ll be sitting in on it, Amelia.¡±

    Amelia blinked. ¡°That¡¯s not possible, ma¡¯am.¡±

    ¡°Well, it is now. Chief said you can handle it, so I¡¯ll approve it.¡± Her eyes trailed to the man. ¡°Either way these people cannot know of DESTROYER¡¯s existence. That senior-level communique and it¡¯s owned by SCOTUS. If we have to, we¡¯ll approach the president, but that¡¯s something the director will handle personally. Do what you have to for now, the blanks will be filled in when it is time.¡±

    ¡°Right,¡± Amelia replied.

    Wall glanced at his watch. ¡°Our time here is up. I¡¯ll expect a report on my desk hopefully by the end of the week. Amelia, Alex, be safe.¡± Safe isn¡¯t exactly what we do¡­ The anti-magus thought. It as a wishful departure from the chief, though she doubted he would be around to see the end of this. His term in the office was coming to an end, and he already had a comfortable promotion lined up for him as an advisor to the Deputy Director of the Marshall service. Though Wall was a man of virtue¡ªthey meant little¡ªthe pit of Washington D.C. would either end his career at the highest level, or it would shrivel him down to a fall man, meant to take the blame of some chairman either on Capitol Hill or within the agency itself.

    Any type of movement within the office would disrupt operations. Everyone, even those not in the room knew it¡­Yet it was obvious that Chief Wall was intending to limit damage¡ªintelligence or physical¡ªhe knew what needed to happen for at least the Silverstone case to continue. If that¡¯s true, what does that mean for me? Amelia remained silent. Her thoughts captured her full attention, making her unsure what was to follow.

    The author''s narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

    ¡°¡­Amelia¡ªhey! Got your ears on?¡±

    "Huh? What?"

    She had been digging too deep in her mind. Spacing out wasn¡¯t typical of her. In fact, it was quite abnormal.

    ¡°It¡¯s just us here. You look lost like a buffoon.¡± She knit her brows to what Alex had said. Amelia grew frustrated at the deputy.

    It backfired. He grew a wide grin.

    ¡°Apologies for saving your ass in my head.¡±

    ¡°I doubt it.¡±

    ¡°It was political, yeah, you¡¯d make a terrible senator.¡±

    ¡°¡­Never had any plans. I¡¯d think being president is more my thing.¡±

    ¡°Yeah, you go ahead and dream. You¡¯d get us caught in another world war before anyone could stop you. Probably nukes are involved.¡±

    ¡°Hey now!¡± Amelia smirked. ¡°C¡¯mon Lia, there are things you know I wouldn¡¯t do. Nukes aren¡¯t even a consideration!¡±

    Yeah¡ªYeah.

    Snapping to her feet so suddenly, Amelia brushed her golden hair behind her ears before looking at Alex with a rare, but kind smile. The man was slightly enamored, but he regained control as he brushed his scratchy five o¡¯clock shadow and stood up towering over her.

    "Hey, want to grab some brunch before we head over?"

    She laughed.

    ¡°You¡¯re always hungry!¡±

    ###

    Deputy Marshall Alexander White scowled at the isolated building surrounded by lush farm fields.

    ¡°Nothing has changed¡­¡±

    The golden-haired agent accompanying him shuddered at her last memory of this place.

    ¡°I don¡¯t want to be here anymore.¡±

    Here they stood, in a place untouched by the winter. This place was stuck in time. No snow, harsh winds, or rain dared to cross these lands. They both could still see the blood, sweat, tears, and cries of all present. They would¡¯ve never known that this place would¡¯ve become a graveyard for both innocent and guilty alike. Still, who was to determine such truth? The answers were here.

    With time and the thanks of the surviving members of the Marshall strike force, a clear picture of the events that led to the warrant were clear. The truth was that it was just a normal man, one that became a victim of the growing cartel activity within the region. To take matters into his own hands eventually found him in the sights of the government agency. Even if they were the true upholders of the constitution, this was seared into the records of all those involved.

    Free me¡ªno¡ªkill me! I beg you!

    Even she survived. It appears that everything present, she had someone looking over her. Watching her.

    Lifting her hand just beside her head, Amelia felt her body tense as an overwhelming passing of voices broke through her brain. Her hand tremored as it remained suspended. To the crunch of Alex¡¯s footsteps, tears clouded her eyes and all she could see was his distorted figure moving ahead at a snail¡¯s space stopping every five steps to reminisce or inspect a point of interest.

    Finally.

    The word struck her like a cord as she struggled to keep her eyes open.

    Someone can finally hear us.

    As a single tear traced her cheek, she let out an uneasy breath.

    ¡°¡­Lia.¡±

    She felt a comforting hand on her shoulder.

    ¡°You¡¯re emitting psych particles.¡±

    Amelia steadied her breath. Her left hand wiped away the few tears she had shed, and she managed to calm herself, letting the burning energy in her body¡ªsomething she hadn¡¯t noticed up to this point¡ªdisappear.

    Alex seemed wary of her condition, yet he only said, ¡°We should probably go.¡±

    ¡°Maybe,¡± Amelia said. ¡°But what is there for us even to collect? We¡¯re not investigators.¡± Putting what had happened to the side, she didn¡¯t know what to expect from coming here again. Though having orders here from Zimmerman and Chief Wall, they never told her and Alex what to look for.

    ¡°Yeah,¡± Alex said. ¡°We can look along the parts where my guys were. Then we can circle around the perimeter.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s a long walk,¡± Amelia sighed. Alex agreed.

    Once more they were at the road leading to the entrance. A halfway point between either side of the property. To complete the suggestion, they would have to skirt around the rocky terrain scattered around the field, avoiding a small, flooded area that dared to stand against the freezing cold. Side-by-side, they followed the empty road, moving all the way to the property. Sharp eyes looked for abnormal. Though there weren¡¯t any dead bodies and scattered spent bullets, this place looked preserved in the winter air. It was peaceful¡ªa unnerving phrase.

    Force determined everything¡ªthe necessary change.

    Her world slowed. Painted over by a blood red hue. With her next step the men that died stood before her, and instantly collapsed to the ground. Their bodies exploding into billion of droplets of crimson rain.

    As the final drop touched the ground, it all reversed the same gunning for the ever-expansive heaven beyond earth. She could still see the explosions, tamed by their corpses being pelted by bullets¡ªthe reason why they turned into nothingness.

    For just a blink, a bullet ripped clean through her chest, passing her heart.

    Truth.

    A single bolt of adrenaline released a thin line of psych particles. Her eyes glazed over purple. Then returned to deep blue.

    Lies.

    Why was her world consumed by death? This place held nothing. Except the fallen. She felt the weight of their lives, extinguished by one another¡ªshe was still, a gun placed against the back of her head.

    You are our savior, aren¡¯t you?

    No, I¡¯m not. I never saved you.

    Her voice was weak. It ricocheted in her mind¡ªpoint to point.

    Violet, the one that will bring humanity to greatness.

    No¡ª

    We died for you.

    Vertigo took her. She only avoided hitting the ground as Alex caught her.

    Opening her mouth, saliva dripped out before a wave of stomach acid and her breakfast was splattered onto the ground, and the man¡¯s boots. ¡°Amelia!¡± She couldn¡¯t shake the nausea within her as the deputy fought to keep her off the ground.

    Pushing away Alex, her body slumped into the frozen dirt, blood leaked from the edge of her mouth, a consequence from her accidently piercing her tongue with her teeth. ¡°¡ªVoices. Hear them, screaming.¡± She fought to form words as Alex watched her cautiously, a phone was raised in front of him as if he were to dial emergency services.

    ¡°What do you mean? Amelia, talk to me!¡±

    Mustering enough strength to spit out a pool of blood and saliva, Amelia forced herself from the ground, clutching her ghostly-pale skin. ¡°They¡¯re dead, and I can hear them!¡± She cried. What was she supposed to do? Nothing made sense.

    ¡°They?¡± Alex narrowed his eyes. She was still releasing psych particles.

    It was impossible¡ªshe couldn¡¯t have been meaning his men¡­

    ¡°All of them, even the suspect.¡±

    ¡°Chief Wall,¡± Alex placed his phone back into his coat. ¡°He had to have known.¡±

    Looking down at her dirt covered hands, Amelia seemed unsure of what the deputy was suggesting. There was no way that Wall had any insight into what would happen here. ¡°About my magic?¡±

    Glancing down, the gentle purple mist that fell to the Earth attempted to conceal the stomach acid, processed food, and blood that had long dried on the frozen ground. A part of that, a part of her, had already stained his left boot. It was ugly, smelled horrid, and wasn¡¯t pleasant to deal with.

    Her suffering¡ªthis act¡ªit couldn¡¯t have been orchestrated. It was the only logical conclusion to this. Even if he wanted to suspect anyone, he didn¡¯t know where to look. How to look. What to believe.

    Glass broke.

    It took less than a second for Alex to look where it came from and stand tall, a steady hand moving near his side. ¡°Hey?¡± He ignored the woman beside him as he scanned the horizon.

    ¡°Windows don¡¯t just break, someone¡¯s here.¡±

    ¡°Couldn¡¯t it be the cold?¡± She couldn¡¯t think straight.

    ¡°No.¡±

    Turning and reaching out his right hand, Alex helped Amelia from the ground, she rested in his grip for five seconds before releasing and caressing her shoulders.

    From the edge of her right eye, the final psych partial disintegrated and vanished into the cold.

    ¡°Fuck,¡± Alex withdrew the handgun on his hip. A standard 9mm pistol common amongst the Marshalls. ¡°We need to secure the building.¡± With his pistol at the lead, he and Amelia trailed behind, the latter shadowing his footsteps, opting to remain behind his broad, and tall frame.

    One last time she was at the entrance to the building. Her azure eyes looked upon the exterior. She didn¡¯t notice it then, but the building was immaculately kept in top-tier condition. The owner was just an everyday working man. He was nothing special, just a construction worker who got caught up in the wrong business. To why he got involved with the cartels, the gangs¡ªone could only speculate it could¡¯ve been involved within the work he did¡ªno one could predict it, know it.

    Element of surprise was not on their side. It was easily assumed that their arrival in the office¡¯s truck drew enough attention to make a perpetrator become reckless in their mission. ¡°Dispatch, 1032, need immediate backup at property 5515¡ªpossible suspect tampering within the restricted area.¡± Alex spoke into his radio as he continued to move with haste to the rear entrance of the house. Only he could hear the response through an earpiece connected to the radio. Looking over his shoulder, his body tensed as he stacked on the left side of the doorway, the same side as the door hinges.

    Alex reached for the door handle, but he stopped, ¡°I¡¯m going to announce our presence.¡±

    ¡°What?¡± Amelia was confused.

    ¡°We need legality; besides, body cam is on.¡±

    Falling into silence, the deputy scanned the second floor of the house. He couldn¡¯t see anything beyond the foggy windows, but it was clear that power was running through the entire building. Nothing could be heard with exception of the soft hum of the machinery in the house.

    Facing the edge of the door, Alex slammed his boots three times into the bottom. ¡°United States Marshalls! Is anyone home!¡±

    Someone tripped on the second floor. A masculine voice emerged from the far side of the building.

    Rolling his eyes, Alex knew that this mission was to take the suspect alive. It wasn¡¯t the greatest idea¡ªit was good¡ªbut he couldn¡¯t risk putting a bullet through the man, not hen he could¡¯ve compromised the entire crime scene.

    Alive, not dead, was tonight¡¯s mission but it seemed like a pretty good idea for him and the rest of the team, too, Jack thought, as he made his way through the cavernous shell of the integrated steel mill. The cold night fog looming over the port outside stopped at the doorway, the air inside tinged with the acrid smells of rust, ozone, and burnt coal. Without a second thought, he pursued. Not checking to see if Amelia was keeping pace.

    A quick bout of sweat formed under his shirt and vest. Though it was winter, the sudden bout of movement plus the transition to a hot interior made him feel the prickle of the moisture. Amelia wasn¡¯t any different. She had removed her personal SIG pistol and followed in his footsteps.

    Their sweep of the first floor was swift. Every thirty seconds Alex made a call out into the open, hoping to get the suspect to surrender and reveal their location. Without any response he went silent and the two arrived at the central staircase. Two steps at a time, they both ascended. Every other step pressed into the worn wood making it groan¡ªit was a death shoot if they were to be attacked.

    At the peak they entered a single isolated hallway on the second floor. Drywall covered either side, perfectly parallel to each other, and at the end was a solidary window that displayed the far-off snowstorm that encapsulated the rest of Idaho. On either side of the hall laid five rooms total. From a basic understanding this building was a three-bedroom two bath house. It was paramount that they kept moving at a swift pace, and not get gummed up trying to scan a tiny room.

    ¡°Doors are closed,¡± Alex whispered.

    ¡°Left,¡± Amelia said as she moved to the door closest to her.

    Stepping just in front of the door. She glanced over her shoulder and nodded at Alex. With a gentle turn of the doorknob, she pushed it open gaining full view of the room. From where she stood, she instantly set her sights on a medium sized window overlooking the front yard. Scanning left, she saw that this room was made to be one of the three bedrooms. Scattered paintings adorned the mute gray walls. A wood frame bed rested under them; a nightstand sat beside it. Daring to peek any further, her head rounded the edge of the door. And there, the suspect stood tall.

    He was a Caucasian man with some distinctive Korean features. A rounded face, muscular, broad build, sharpened gaze, and jet-black hair. The suspect¡¯s gaze shifted to the door. His hazel eyes locked with Amelia¡¯s. What? Before she could react, the man¡¯s Glock snapped from his jean¡¯s waistline. Ducking her head, falling forward onto the ground, Amelia just narrowly missed five bullets being launched above her head. Wood splinters fell on her body as the man threw himself over her body, slamming Alex into the wall and bursting down the hall towards the window.

    ¡°Amelia!¡± Alex shouted.

    ¡°Get after him!¡±

    ¡°Sit tight, I¡¯ll call for backup,¡± More bullets were released down the hall, skimming past both Marshalls.

    TWACK!

    With a burst of speed, Alex caught the suspect reloading his firearm. The glass window splintered from the sudden force of both their bodies being thrust against it, making it budge out of the frame letting the cold air inside the building.

    Amelia walked out into the hall just in time to hear the shattering glass of the window. Being dragged against the frame, Alex fought against the suspect as he tried to force the barrel of his Glock into his chest. As both of their hands fought to gain control of the weapon, the suspect forced the trigger back four times as the gun was aimed adjacent to their bodies. Th ringing of the gun and the spawl emanated from the impacting rounds made both men flinch, and it gave Alex just enough of an opening to grip his right hand on the slide.

    As his hand was slowly cooked by the heat of the barrel, he forced the slide back, locking it into position and prevent another bullet from cycling. The suspect released the gun.

    Everything was going in the deputy¡¯s advantage¡­

    Then the suspect withdrew a compact Glock of the same caliber with his left hand.

    ¡°Shit!¡±

    Felling a resounding shock in his chest, Alex was thrown backwards onto the ground as the suspect kicked him back with his left leg. Managing to lean forward from outside the frame, the man aimed his pistol squarely down the hallway, the blocky night sights aligned cleanly with the human figure at the other end.

    Amelia¡¯s head exploded in pain. A .40 Hollow Point passed through her head. Blood spurted from the wound as her heart race increased. With no exit wound, the lead bullet remained lodged in her brain as she slowly slumped against the wall splattering blood and brain matter all over the gray color.

    At last, her body gave out strength and collapsed, her chest folded upwards on the wall, while her legs split apart and spread outwards on the floor.

 006: BEST OF MY LOVE

    When it came down to the wire¡ªWe the people stood ready.

    - JACKSON VIOLET

    <u>DEATH¡¯S NULLIFICATION</u>

    ¡°Amelia, didn¡¯t I tell you not to play with your food?¡± Jackson Violet scolded his younger sister.

    The 6-year-old blonde looked up at him with apathetic eyes. She silently returned to the dish in front of her; carrots and mushrooms remained. Adjusting her grip, she stabbed her fork into a carrot and shoved it in her mouth, eating it without hesitation.

    Within the Violet residence just outside of Suffern New York, the day was surprisingly busy in the family¡¯s villa. An event hosted by their parents and other family members had kicked off in a nearby vacation home, and now strangers, investors, and familiar faces strolled around the house with exception of the second floor, where they currently were.

    They both just wanted a quiet lunch.

    ¡°Jackson! Lia!¡± A deep voice echoed through the villa. Their father had called for them.

    So much for lunch.

    Alongside technical officers from the United States Navy, and other investors, Amelia watched as her father adjusted the sweater he wore. Slowly every day, silver strands crept and overtook his shinning golden hair. He held a modest, kind look, but one that wasn¡¯t marred with years of experience from being an infantry officer in the Marine Corps and his career building the Violet Conglomerate.

    ¡°Amelia, it¡¯s good to see you again,¡± To the call of a familiar voice, the young girl faced a young teenager amongst the group.

    ¡°Evan,¡± She tilted her head into the sunlight. It was her childhood crush.

    The young man provided a small smile. She understood that he only saw her as a little sister.

    Amelia looked away from Evan. With a bright smile, one unusual to her face, she strutted past him humming a familiar jingle heard on T.V.

    Jackson felt his eye twitch at Evan.

    ¡°What?¡±

    ¡°Nothing.¡±

    ¡°You too,¡± Evan rolled his eyes to the slightly younger man, just by a year. ¡°What is with your family. All the ¡®being annoyed¡¯ and all.¡±

    ¡°You got something to say, pal?¡± the dirty blonde boy asked.

    ¡°No. Besides the point, how are things going? With the family.¡± Evan asked, choosing to avoid the confrontation.

    ¡°The same,¡± Jackson sighed. ¡°School has been keeping me busy, I¡¯m thinking of going to a service academy, but I¡¯d honestly rather enlist.¡±

    ¡°Really? You¡¯re only 14. Go a while before you should do anything.¡± Evan said with a shrug, ¡°Take your time.¡±

    The older Violet¡¯s development as a young man was unexpected by the family, and wider world in general. Though the name Violet was heavily scrutinized and was constantly under a microscope, Jackson had taken an interest in those of his generation. Back then he was a prize, something that his parents could proudly show the world. And now, here he stood not only being relatable to those his own age, playing games and watching anime. He attributed his own success to what he was able to accomplish on his own.

    Unfortunately to many, his interest in physical activities and soon following goal for military service was something that brought him scorn. This choice to go beyond himself, beyond the scope of what the world had built for him, was not appreciated in the slightest. It would bring him great trouble no matter where he went.

    Perhaps that¡¯s why he did it.

    ¡°Jackie!¡±

    ¡°Amy,¡± the young man smiled at the nicknames he and his sister shared. He knelt to her height and patted her on the head. She had managed to get her hands on a small bowl of candy, something that was usually placed beyond their reach.

    ¡°C¡¯mon, kiddo, you really did this¡­,¡± Jackson said amused, and guilty.

    ¡°No food shall go to waste!¡± She wore a wavering smile. Amelia was guilty.

    Letting out a fit of laughter, Jackson rubbed her head harder making her flinch. ¡°Alright¡ªalright, good job! Just let me do the heavy work needed.¡±

    "Okay¡­"

    Jackson did indeed do the heavy lifting.

    In the formation they stacked themselves alongside the warehouse¡¯s entrance, his Marines. His ¡°Breacher¡± steadied himself, aiming a shotgun awaiting the go ahead from Captain Violet. ¡°Rifles 1, 2, and 3¡± were behind their captain itching for the moment.

    In standard fashion within their unit, Jackson firmly patted the Marine¡¯s helmet. In one motion they all strutted ahead in a coordinated breach, weapons raised. 1 And 2 cleared the nearest corners of the room. Jackson, Breacher, and 3 pushed hard, sweeping across the empty interior.

    The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.

    How many times had they¡¯ve practiced, trained, executed¡­ This was their nature, and the mother of all life gave them this once more¡­

    ¡°What is this?¡± Breacher clicked his tongue. ¡°There¡¯s nothing here!¡±

    ¡°Nothing above¡ªAirborne is up there,¡± Rifle 1 said. ¡°Look down maybe?¡±

    ¡°Fucking Pakistan.¡± Rifle 2 groaned, kicking the dirty floor beneath his boots. He wandered around in a short circle before, almost on command, kicked a covered wooden panel. ¡°Here,¡± He pointed out, turning on his rifle mounted light.

    Corralling around the small hatch, the men slowly removed the wood panel revealing nothing more than a rusted ladder descending shortly into an illuminated room.

    ¡°Never open your mouth again, sergeant,¡± Rifle 3 groaned.

    Clockwork. Down they went.

    A meter down the first barrel was raised. Yet again the Marines fell behind in the technological race amongst branches. As the Army fielded squadron drones, the Navy automated systems, and the Air Forces predator munitions, the Corps still did things by the old book. Upon all men reaching the bottom, they continued with their hands and legs.

    Jackson narrowed his eyes. Bingo.

    Though his company was assigned with locking down the city of Peshawar, his platoon had a secondary objective of garnering evidence against the rising resistance against the Pakistani government. They found themselves in a scientific lab, one unknown to its origin. Large tanks, scattered pipettes, stethoscopes, needles; this place was all geared to either medical advancement or human alteration.

    At least that¡¯s what the dried blood¡ªthat which had no smell¡ªprovided.

    ¡°Someone¡¯s taking notes, I¡¯m back in chemistry.¡± Rifle 1 said with shock.

    ¡°Biology, med-science, not chemistry, dumbass.¡± Breacher commented.

    ¡°Shut.¡± Jackson coughed. ¡°Just look at this shit, I can¡¯t even get an idea of what they were doing down here. Best I can guess is that those vials over there were being pumped into people, that or harvested.¡± His eyes darted to the boot that was below his boots. ¡°I don¡¯t know anything, but it could explain they tenacity of these fuckers in the city. Might be better than when the Taliban was hyped up on drugs back in the day.¡±

    ¡°Awesome, hippies,¡± Breacher chuckled with a falling expression. ¡°Makes sense why we went through some shit trying to get here.¡±

    ¡°That means we found a production site,¡± Rifle 3 continued. ¡°Recommendation: Captain, we¡¯ve got enough C-4 to blow this place. We can bury it and buy enough time for our guys on the rim, give the bad guys something to be distracted about.¡±

    As silence drew across them, Jackson remained in thought. Rifle 3 wasn¡¯t wrong¡­

    His mind flickered to his sister.

    Amelia had been exposed to unknown compounds before.

    ###

    Alex White sat at a large sports bar and restaurant just at the brim of the near non-existent ton of Cascade, Idaho. Its population was only noted at 1,301 within the last yearly census. To the locals this place was a favorite, and with his leave, he found himself coming back to this place often even if it meant driving hours through the lonely state. Food, drinks, music. It had everything to forget life.

    His mouth held onto the aftertaste of Hillrock Solera Whiskey. Amelia¡¯s ¡®death¡¯ was greatly exaggerated and was imprinted in his mind. Thus, he had temporarily turned to the bottle. Two weeks had passed since he lived the moment; holding her dying body in both of his arms after killing the suspect with his bare hands. Alex wondered what drive him to that level of insanity.

    As much as he enjoyed his quiet vacation in the town of Cascade¡ªbeing drawn in by the silence and distance¡ªthis wasn¡¯t a place for him to stay. Even if he could dream of living here, he needed to eventually get back to the job and be cleared for duty by a medical representative. After all, civil unrest from the uptick in crime spurred by the federal government was getting to him.

    Once more the same old song and dance of the people versus the cartels raised. However, though drugs, murder, and prostitution were the major factors of the unrest and now movement against all forces, it wasn¡¯t the only reason that the citizens were resisting, bound by their love for freedom. Either way he could understand that everything was going to come to a head. Modern politics was shaping the environment, and soon enough he would be caught in the crosshairs.

    Sitting up straight and stretching his back, Alex¡¯s terrorizing back and height at 6¡¯0 put him in the spotlight amongst even the broad sitting and enormous farmers that could easily pick him up with no contest. For a Sunday night, the restaurant was full. Football blared over the country music in the background.

    Somewhere within the building a blonde woman made a pass at him. He wasn¡¯t blind like other men. She was clearly checking him out. And like other men, he did nothing. Even though the woman was here alone, was clearly his type, and showed great interest in him, he had little want to engage in that. She shared too similar of a resemblance to Amelia.

    This wasn¡¯t a place for him. Go lucky girl¡­ There was no reason to pursue anything. Especially not when considering that he was going to get busy even if he was put on restricted duty for what happened earlier in the month. Besides, he liked Amelia better: no short-shorts, and brash attitude. The business type scratched his brain, gave him something to actually like.

    For a short time, he was looking at an opportunity to get into the Marshall Special Operations Group. The best damned specialized law enforcement entity the United States had to offer. He had heard about them upon entry into the organization, and it had been a burning goal to get to a place to join. Though the latest incidents would set him back, potentially permanently, he already had experienced what the ¡°black operations¡± of the SOG was like. Once upon a time he was a communications liaison. Radiomen were valued no matter the unit. And he was damned good at making the calls when needed.

    Maybe, there was a small chance.

    Either way he sat silently at the bar. Glancing down to his electronic watch, he noticed it was past twenty-one hundred.

    A silver phone slipped into his right hand. A stray thumb moved over scattered icons.

    ¡°Alex! I didn¡¯t expect to hear from you so soon. I saw what happened a couple weeks ago, and that you had been placed on leave. How are you holding up?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m calling in relation to the incident, Malone.¡±

    ¡°Oh.¡±

    ¡°We know that she got shot and died.¡±

    ¡°Whatever it is you need¡ªWe¡¯re here.¡±

    ¡°Thank you. Mind if I ask a favor?¡±

    ¡°Name it.¡±

    ¡°A corpse just doesn¡¯t up and disappear from a hospital. Especially not from the ICU. A bullet went through her brain Malone, Amelia Violet is dead. She had something, either physically as an item or within her body. Someone wanted it¡ªnow they have it. We need to figure out where her body went. Records, phone recordings, ONSIT, HUMMIT, something we can track.¡±

    ¡°Do you want me to start looking into the doctors and nurses? What about the primary surgeon that was to operate on her?¡±

    ¡°No¡ªtrack the janitors and supply clerks. They¡¯re the ones that probably had contact with the method of transportation.¡±

    ¡°Alex, you¡¯ve done this before?¡±

    ¡°First time,¡± Alex honestly said.

    ¡°I see,¡± Malone raised an eyebrow before releasing a sigh. ¡°I¡¯ll get in contact with a few people, might even pull some CTs from the Navy if I can swing it.¡±

    ¡°I appreciate it, Malone.¡±

    ¡°Just get back home safe, bye now.¡±

    ¡°Ciao.¡±

    Eyeing the glass of whiskey from the corner of his eye, Alex chose not to touch it as he raised a single hand towards the bar tender. Whipping out his debit card and a twenty-dollar bill, he paid the electronic pad in front of him along with a decent cash tip.

    Rising from his seat, he scanned the crowd once more. His eyes eventually settled on the blonde woman he had spotted earlier. She looked at him with her leering eye. And followed by a wink, she motioned for him to come over.

    He had other plans. Both of his hands sat comfortably in his pant pockets.

    Ciao¡­

 007: KALEIDISCOPE, ICON

    <u>WE NEVER SAY GOODBYE</u>

    A dotted field of grass occupied by bright yellow flowers shined in the sun.

    Jackson stepped out of the 1982 Ford Mustang GT he owned. A silent apology was passed to his wife in the passenger seat as he suddenly acted on his urge to look at the sprawling field. Compared to the scorched summer that had encapsulated he and his Marines in Pakistan years back, he could be thankful that what he fought for, though foreign, led him to such a place like this.

    For the last week, no, for him these last few years had been exhausting. This stop was just for a short moment. One to allow him to recover for what was ahead.

    Putting another step forward he had gone from strolling amongst the side of the road to cutting though a crowd of national guard troopers, police officers, staff members, and members of the state congress. Most of them looked at him with expectant gazes, waiting for him to address them.

    Pausing amongst the crowd, a head of gold caught Jackson¡¯s attention. He blinked several times as he silently tried to locate the person, but alas nothing came of his search. Mind tricks he thought.

    Amelia crossed his mind.

    She was gone, and he promised himself a vow to find where she laid. In truth there was little he could¡¯ve done. After Amelia¡¯s death all the remaining assets under her ownership, what little fortune she had, was transferred to him. Along with being the primary heir to the family conglomerate, he now had other obligations to fulfil in her stead.

    Yet he wouldn¡¯t be stopped.

    To the front of the room, Jackson manned a single podium.

    ¡°Revelations,¡± he began and ended.

    Iron, the smell. Followed by the pink mist of a brain exploding into nothing more than liquid and vapor. His face tightened and his nose twinged; he once more stood in the deserts watching his men fall one-by-one. Long were the days of harassing the mechanics in the motor pool or pranking the department head and Gunnery Sergeant. All gone.

    Those deaths¡ªstill as they may hurt¡ªdidn¡¯t torment him. Closing his eyes, recalling one last time of her kind words, a single drop of water crossed his face. What is there to remember? For what we do, for what we wish, love never lasts. Shout, cry. He wanted to give in.

    Amelia never had a soul. She would never go to heaven nor hell. He was a believer, something that was normally frowned upon in today¡¯s world, but for what he knew it was more than enough to decipher that Amelia would never rest. A soft chuckle escaped. Despite his distance ever since their childhood, it was now more than ever that she felt so far away. Beyond his reach. In its own depressing manner, Jackson easily understood that part of the emotions he was feeling was the result of what he believed to be a fallacy of his own feelings. His sharp brown eyes would determine what he meant for both himself, his sister, and the world. If only he could see the reflection.

    He had first met her a long time ago. When he was still just a young man to the world. Between the chaotic life of private schooling, church, and the ever-evolving world they inhabited. That time never lasted when he enlisted, then found himself later commissioned as a young, seasoned lieutenant. Those lives, it was something that could never be comprehended. No place¡ªjust himself now.

    When he was ten, Amelia had truly gained consciousness. To this day he could still remember the glimmering look in her eyes. One of innocence, hope, and truth.

    ¡°Brother¡ª¡± She had looked up at him saying the single word. Her voice wavering with curiosity and concern.

    A flash overcame his vision. Hesitation grew in his body, an uncomfortable weight settled on his shoulder. It arrived from nothing, the void.

    Nothing more than a heavy breath was noticed. Jackson straightened himself. He had to go for lunch with his wife. Afterwords it would be more than pleasant for the two of them to stroll around the next event they were to attend, a local school that he had campaigned at before. This wasn¡¯t any normal place. To him it was a great achievement, both personal and statewide. Better equipment, more funds, breakaway from the federal programs for food. It all came together, perfectly.

    Lunch went by. It wasn¡¯t anything special. A sandwich and fries. Now he strolled the warm hallways of the high school. Few noticed him being escorted by the vice-principle, letting Jackson and his wife Laura Simmons-Violet. Even with his notoriety, she was the only one Jackson truly knew. Laura trailed slightly behind him, her hand in his own.

    ¡°We should go for lunch at that bodega again, I think it¡¯s a good place¡­¡± Jackson half-handily mentioned. A bone to throw.

    ¡°So, what, a chance for antics¡­¡± Laura¡¯s face momentarily flushed before returning to a crisp and bright smile. Her mind was preoccupied. ¡°I¡¯m fine with that. I¡¯ll put in in for month¡¯s end.¡±

    Different from the scheduled path, a diversion was made by the couple, daring to step out into the snow kissed outside world.

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    ¡°Red and green.¡±

    ¡°No, Pink and green. See? That light over there isn¡¯t a normal Christmas decoration.¡± Jackson bothered to explained as they watched a passing box truck.

    He didn¡¯t really know why that exchange happened. Nor why he responded. Such things were typically left to silence. He took note, being warry that his strings that kept him attached to Amelia had altered him. Hopefully not to a permanent extent. Jackson could manage dealing with such changes.

    ¡°Thank you. I know things have been tough in the family. I¡¯m here.¡±

    A grim smile passed his lips. Forevermore he would be grateful, that she was and always ever been his love.

    ¡°We¡¯ll all adjust to it,¡± She continued. ¡°The once we met, if there was a chance, I would take this guilty feeling and see her again.¡± Laura exclaimed bringing to light her own fantastical, hopeless thoughts. Her thoughts were once guarded, and now she made no attempt to defend them. It provided¡ªmade her a target.

    ¡°It¡¯ll be too late to say anything now.¡± Jackson noticed the shift in her eyes as he continued: ¡°If we were to say anything, what would it be? ¡®I am glad to see you again. And I wish now you could continue to spare our fake love.¡¯ To bestow such a fate upon her, when we left her to her own devices is something that haunts me.¡±

    He never understood Amelia. Jackson never would.

    As a gust of wind slammed against the school, Jackson shielded his wife as they began to return to the warming interior. A stray eye followed the falling flakes.

    Flipping over his left wrist, he checked the time and realized he still had another hour of this tour. To the front a crowd of staff members had found them¡ªhe didn¡¯t want to get involved with them¡ªlistening to their chattering would drive him mad. However, he would continue to pursue the end goal, to once more find meaning to the definition of success like Amelia did.

    ###

    The existence had permeated for more than a lifetime. ¡°She¡± was a part of this. Existing was nothing more than a figment now. What did it mean for her to exist. Something with an end. Everything else had neither an origin nor end. Now and forevermore, she wandered through the eternal beyond. The chords of life begged at her, cried at her, rid themselves of all sense.

    Amelia was born a human. Someone that held God¡¯s gift of choice, love, and of life. That of love born for destruction and creation. A mortal amongst Gods. A savior amongst men. Eyes forged of innocence, aged by guilt. Organs made to die, but to create the very facet of humanity. Clear blue. Crimson red. Her creation was the will of life, two beings coming together in the celebration of all that God had provided. Her very face was the reflection of such a creation, that of beyond behind something natural¡ªnormal.

    Her skin being a normal pale gleam, she both absorbed and gently reflected the holy light of the endless skies. Everything about her was human. Her carefully crafted, glimmering, gold hair. The birthmark spread from her right breast to her shoulder. The ever-sharp contrast of love and kindness in the corner of her eyes.

    For all her beauty, her connections, she was separated from the physical world. From life. Her existence was merely ended in the blink of an eye. Made by a choice of man. The exact same freewill that their God gave them, to live their lives as they pleased¡ªpeople don¡¯t need a reason to live, they just live¡ªto continue the cycle of life of death. For what she felt, for what she wanted. Devoid.

    Amelia was human. Now she was a being of death, collected by the final watch. Her emotions mattered not Her form was gone. She wasn¡¯t even a reaper guiding lost souls¡ªno duty for her to stand.

    What world she once knew was plagued by death, a monochromatic painting. Her life stopped. Time ceased. Life and death, up and down blended. Light, darkness. The cycle continued. Here, where she once stood, the world was full of sounds, scents, sensations¡ªvoices. Chords of those that lived, those that continued living. Even those near death, or those that finalized their dues and went beyond the abyss. Her chord¡ªdistinct¡ªhad fell to silence. Where no echo dared to resonate.

    She was brought to this world, Earth, for a last-ditch desperation by the Lord. To bring his word amongst the people, his greatest creations. She was never destined for such a life. At least not in the way it was extinguished. Even if she had accomplished such a grand goal, the parades and charades that would follow would only serve as a mere distraction. Here, dead, she served her purpose perfectly.

    What was her objective? Could she even trust the people she worked for; the people she trusted? She was no judge, jury, or executioner. A guide even, that was better left to someone else. Even offering solace to others. It was never her mission. Wandering a void alone. Amelia was never the only one, but even if she could hear the constant voices, they would never become companions to her existence.

    The last voice she heard on voice, it was silent. A final call for her name in the wind. She stood at the precipice of death, surrounded by love and hate. Her nostrils flared with the thick stench of blood and soot. Beneath her the familiar comfort of one of humanity¡¯s creations caressed her skin. The landscape was still flat. Covered in the ethereal white snow that stretched well beyond anything she could ever hope to see.

    Beyond the touch of her fingertips, those that had also fallen looked at her with hollow eyes. It was a familiar sensation. This would never be the last nor first time she had seen this. War would never change; destruction was part of humanity¡¯s nature. It was one of the easiest things to accomplish in this world with little challenge.

    ¡°Savior.¡±

    Snapping her head up, her spinal collum was compressed sending a shockwave of pain through her broken body. Her breaths remained ragged as oxygen flushed through the frail tissue, ready to burst at moment¡¯s notice. Raising her feeble, blood crusted hands, she could just barely skim the surface of the young man standing before her. He was a Marshall, one of her kin. One wearing the same olive-drab uniform he died in, yet it was now forever changed by the rips and blood that ruined everything. Her eyes widened further as the body shattered to her touch. And in the lasting gaze she saw what remained of his soul ¨C fear, pain, regrets¡­

    Love.

    Drip.

    Drip. Drip.

    Drip. Drip. Drip.

    It wasn¡¯t her tears.

    Amelia¡¯s eyes snapped open wide as she stared high into the tarnished ceiling above her. The place she inhabited was lost to time. The once elegant blue dry wall was chipping. And she sat below a breach in a wall tile letting a steady stream of droplets hit her head. Where was she? Why was she here? The memories of her life were all scattered and lost. There wasn¡¯t any logical reason for why she now was looking up again at Earth.

    Letting her head fall, her soiled golden hair draped across her body. Her eyes traced the tattered hospital gown she wore with nothing more than basic undergarments underneath. Her hands were secured in place with a medical-grade zip tie (one from Home Depot), and her body was covered in scratches, bruises, and lacerations.

    ¡°What¡­¡±

    She slowly rose her head. A mirror as adjacent from her.

    Her eyes widened¡­

    A tint of red occupied her eyes.

 008: ELEVENTH HOUR

    <u>CATCH MY HOPES</u>

    Amelia screamed as she woke with a pounding heart. Entrapped by a nightmare, the memories were gone, and what was left was her sweat-soaked body. As her mind yearned to grasp onto any lasting figments of the horror, she found herself hugging her freezing body.

    The opening of a nearby door caught her attention, reminder her of where she was; surrounded by wooden furniture in a small, clean apartment. For just a hesitant moment she watched as Zachary peer from behind the door. Her old ¡°friend¡± from high school sighed as he sat in a chair across from her.

    ¡°I messed up, didn¡¯t I?¡± asked Amelia.

    Zachary looked down at his hands. A new scar had stretched from his palm up to his forearm, a result of the woman before him attacking him in the dead of night. Every time he moved his skin burned, and it had gotten to the point that he would wrap his arm with gauze.

    ¡°When I got the call from you, I wasn¡¯t sure that it was even real. A few days ago, they told me that you were dead. And then I again doubted everything when I found you in the middle of a cartel town; some of the worst fucking people exist there. Which makes sense for why you attacked me.¡±

    ¡°Fuck, I really messed up.¡± Amelia groaned being followed by silence. Resting her head against both of her hands, she looked through a crack in her fingers. Her eyes set sight once more upon the clean, yet stylized apartment. Amongst the wooden d¨¦cor and bits of firefighter memorabilia, she spotted a digital clock beside her. 19:23. She didn¡¯t need a clock to tell her, but time had surely passed since she awoken. Much to Zachary¡¯s dismay, Amelia removed herself from the bed, noticing she was wearing comfortable, yet oversized sweats. Slowly she began to make the bed, being mindful that she was still technically a guest here.

    With his hospitality, she had taken the only bed in the apartment during her recovery period. Zach himself opted to sleep on the couch just outside of the room.

    Amelia had finished setting the bed. And upon completion she staggard on top of the surface, sitting crossed leg and grabbing a pillow to rest her arms on. ¡°I don¡¯t know what to do from here. I can barely remember anything. Especially, and apparently my own ¡®death¡¯. If anything, I would need to return to the Marshall office.¡± She spoke.

    Zachary disapprovingly shook his head. ¡°As much as I would agree we need to figure out what happened to you, and what¡¯s happening in this state. Idaho isn¡¯t anything special, but we need to ensure that the people are safe. That¡¯s the conundrum. And I¡¯m a witness to you.¡±

    ¡°And if I¡¯m suddenly alive again, my¡ªour hands would be tied, and another investigation will be opened,¡± Amelia grimly understood.

    Silence fell between. They didn¡¯t know what was right for their lives.

    Zachary let out a heavy breath and shook his head. ¡°Let¡¯s get going. I know a place where we can get you some help. Don¡¯t worry Lia, we¡¯ll get you back up and running. At least well enough to stop whatever is happening... I don¡¯t even know anymore.¡±

    ¡°Wait.¡±

    Zachary looked up from his hands.

    ¡°We¡¯ll head to the city soon. Please, just wait for me, I need to do this.¡±

    He said nothing as the young maiden trotted out of the room.

    She never said that to him.

    It was impossible to miss the tiny red glint in her eyes.

    Amelia had managed to escape from the apartment and climb up to the miniatous rooftop. A bitter crisp wind came from the growing storm, concealing the large complexes surrounding her. She managed to stagger towards the edge of the building, and thus she became settled against a frozen railing. Her eyes reached far beyond taking in the calming view of the Idaho wild. Reaching out her hands, snowflakes instantly melted as they contacted her palms. She could see her white breaths escaping high into the falling skies. The harmful, orange glow of the sun on the still fought to show light to the world. Yet, it was slowly being extinguished by the winter night. The rays she did catch warmed her body and kept her comfortable.

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    A soft hum escaped her mouth as a thought to call someone crossed her mind. She couldn¡¯t exactly recall who it was, but Amelia knew it was important. That someone was waiting for her.

    A bright smile grew upon her lips as she looked high into the falling snow. Letting a part of herself go, psy-psionic particles were released from her fingertips.

    Streams of purple light shot into the heavens and exploded into millions of pieces.

    Like stars they fell back to the Earth, with some managing to kiss her.

    Amelia was truly alive¡­

    ###

    Who am I? Amelia blinked.

    It was a simple answer: Amelia Violet. A member of the United States Marshall Service, Federal Magus Enforcers. Currently on assignment with Alexander White for the case of magic usage for criminal purposes in the state of Idaho.

    Idaho?

    Savior

    ¡ªRuin

    For all of humanity.

    Red.

    Death.

    - savior --- for all of humanity¡ªred ---¡ª- death¡­

    Why was it now that her world morphed into a distorted red image of the unknown?

    ###

    ¡°Alex! Remember what you asked of me? I have new information about that.¡±

    The Marshall kindly smiled into his phone as the normally calm Malone, beamed with light enthusiasm. The IT had been hard at work for well over a week trying to determine everything of what happened not only to Alex, but the star of the show, Amelia Violet.

    ¡°Do tell.¡±

    ¡°How about this, I¡¯ve got some information on the guy that killed her¡ªEx CIA, and the ones that took her body.¡±

    ¡°CIA? What?¡±

    ¡°Really FBI, but he transferred in his last year.¡±

    ¡°Anyways, what of the extras that took Amelia?¡±

    ¡°Oh, that. Amelia was transferred on an official scheduled basis to a morgue in cartel territory.¡±

    ¡°I see. God damn it, she¡¯s off the grid¡­¡±

    Malone went silent.

    ¡°You care about her.¡±

    A dry chuckle escaped the deputy, ¡°I do.¡±

    ¡°Man¡ªI, I¡¯m here. We¡¯re going to get her back. Give her peace.¡±

    ¡°Malone¡­ Thank you.¡±

    ¡°Just take care of yourself. And take your time.¡±

    ¡°Always. Ciao.¡±

    ¡°Ciao.¡±

    Alex let out a long groan as he lowered his head. This was going to turn out to be a struggle amongst the federal services, and he wanted no part of it.

    He wondered why they all had to get involved. Why they couldn¡¯t just live in peace.

    On the other hand, it made sense; the FBI had effectively pushed the Marshall service to the side when it came to dealing with the uptick of magical crimes in the state. They had little grounds here to begin with, and even with the Navy¡¯s criminal investigations support package, they were limited in everything including their most effective intelligence-gathering operations in hot zones all around Idaho.

    Why would they try to even compete with such an impossible struggle? It was better for them to reorganize and become decentralized.

    Grabbing the nearest Uber, Alex swiftly headed out from his final hotel back into the city. In an hour he would be a short walk away from his destination.

    Once more he passed a small caf¨¦, the occupants lived their lives without concern. They lived in harmony as the world continued to turn. The early-day light shined upon the many tables scattered all around. Pancakes, coffee, hot chocolate. They were all being served in these frozen times.

    Passing by the small shop, the Marshall Deputy moved through a small gate and into the confines of a police station on the corner. Moving past reception, he hurried up the second floor, where offices were littered all throughout the building.

    ¡°Alex! Thanks for stopping by,¡± Police Sergeant Dan Weston, the same from Silverstone case, welcomed the deputy with tired eyes, and an exhausted hunch. He had forgone his blouse and wore his undershirt proudly as he motioned for him to take a seat at his desk.

    ¡°Joe?¡± He thumbed towards a coffee maker in the back of the room.

    ¡°Appreciated.¡±

    Rising from his office chair once more he stumbled over to the machine and swiftly poured out two cups of coffee with brutal efficiency. Within in ten seconds he had walked across the room twice and delivered the unhealthily large cup to the deputy. With his graying hair, Dan held an old charm to how he conducted himself.

    Alex was grateful for the hospitality. He needed a short break after driving for days on end. His vehicle even broke down, so he was stuck paying hand over fist to get back safely. He took a quick sip of black coffee making the sergeant raise an eyebrow.

    ¡°So, what are we looking at, why am I here again?¡±

    ¡°I got a bead on that lead for Silverstone case.¡±

    ¡°I see, what is it?¡±

    ¡°We tracked the boss that ran the whole Christmas event in the park.¡±

    ¡°He¡¯s important? How?¡±

    ¡°Justin Mallon is also buddy with the city mayor. We¡¯re looking into a money trail that cycles back to the cartels, but I¡¯ll be honest we¡¯re not making much progress.¡±

    ¡°So, do you want assistance? It¡¯ll be through federal means, so part of your precinct will be federalized.¡± Alex seemed reluctant to offer.

    ¡°As much as I would appreciate the extra hands around the office. That¡¯s a no.¡±

    ¡°Figured as much.¡±

    ¡°Thanks for lending a hand, I may cash in a private request.¡±

    ¡°So, the best I can do for you right now is put a face to the name.¡± Dan explained as he retrieved a manila folder from the side of his desk. Alex raised an eyebrow as he opened the flap, peering at the contents. It seems this precincts evidence locker was loose to other officers.

    Today¡­it was getting better by the second.

    ¡°These are mine?¡± Alex questioned.

    ¡°Take em, all yours.¡±