Entropy Through Order: Case Files of the Order of Freelance Mages
Order: "Snatch and Grab"
- - - - - -
Non-Administered world 101
Midnight, local time
2 months before Coastal Airport Fire
February 27th, MC 0071
They fell from the sky.
Ten black shapes falling from 45 thousand feet, shooting head-first to the ground, dropping at terminal velocity, each maintaining proper separation from his fellows; above them the thrusters of a DS-77 "Pelican" Dropship flare as it climbs back into orbit, its cargo disgorged. All were clad in mottled black and gray military fatigues, black body armor, boots, and elbow and knee pads. Strapped to each man were his weapons; for most of them, a pistol and a supressed submachinegun. The blue-tinted visors on their black helmets reflected the night back at itself, hiding the faces of the wearers.
They didn't look like any normal unit of Time-Space Administration Bureau Mages or Enforcers. That was the whole point. They weren't.
This was a black operation, conducted by a black unit, its existence hidden both from the outside world and the TSAB whole. They were the ghosts in the night, the dagger in the dark. The Order of Freelance Mages, ostensibly established as a special unit of elite Enforcers... but really the wetwork specialists and hunters of the TSAB.
Tonight's mission would see a little of both.
* * * * *
Six Weeks Earlier
"Target's name is Vincenza Blueno, former rank Lieutenant Colonel, Intelligence Division," said Glen Schattenmann coldly, his eyes hard, as the image of a human female with long blonde hair and good looks was projected on the wall behind him. "Target is responsible for two blown missions and suspected of at least three more blown missions. Target is wanted for the following crimes: slave-trading, suspicion of murder, desertion, selling TSAB secrets, corruption, abuse of power, rape, and conduct unbecoming an officer."
There was a chorus of harsh chuckles at the last charge. In all nine years of its operation, the Order of Freelance Mages had never been ordered to sanction a TSAB officer who wasn't guilty of the last charge. Other mages like Takamachi Nanoha or Hayate Yagami might look to see the good in people and try to redeem them; not so the Order. Order mages had a very simple worldview towards corrupt TSAB officials: kill them all.
"Our objective is not a sanction," continued Glen, "but a snatch and grab." At this, there were raised eyebrows. More often than not, General Jack O'Neill - the TSAB Air Force officer who was head of the Special Operations department, the Order's final command authority - sent them out on assasination missions, using the Order as a surgeon's scalpel to remove the cancer of corrupt officials. A snatch and grab was much harder than an assasination... and thus so much rarer.
"Our job is not to ask why but to do," continued the Order XO and Air Force commander. "The target has set up operations as an information broker and services supplier to underworld factions on the main continent of Non-Administered World 101, known to the locals as 'Noches.' As this world is roughly equal to Earth on the technological scale, and involves a rogue Intelligence officer, the decision has been made to deploy the Order instead of standard Enforcer teams. We'll be cleaning the Bureau's screwups again, covertly. Target's magical rank is A-, and she is believed to have contract mage bodyguards, approximately two to four persons. Her compound is secured by a guard force of ten to fifteen norms armed with conventional weapons."
"ROE?" asked Ivanovich.
"Guards expendable, secure the target alive. She's no good to us dead."
* * * * *
Present
"Alpha Squad, form up."
"Bravo Squad, form up."
The ten members of the Assault Platoon split into two five-man formations, each man spread out but in visual range of his squad. As they fall closer to their targets they begin to spreadeagle their bodies in the air, increasing wind resistance and slowing themselves down, in preparation for the next command from Ivanovich:
"Glide in."
Ten magic circles (and triangles, where appropriate) form, and most of the men form shot glowing energy wings on their backs. Glider Wing isn't a flight spell, but what it does is it allows the user to glide towards the target and land softly and safely, a combination of parachute and controlled falling with style. The main advantage over traditional HALO is that you don't have to pack a parachute. Of course, if there's AMF down there, they're screwed, so they're carrying reserve chutes, just in case.
The target compound is on a hill and darkly-lit; evidently the target doesn't believe in floodlights and lots of light to deter intruders, which makes it easier for the team to sneak in. She's also limited her magical defenses to just her mercenaries, in an effort to hide herself from the TSAB's hunters... ironically what the Order does itself. The Assault Platoon lands softly on the grassy lawn and they ditch the parachutes, bringing up their supressed weapons, the night-vision devices in their helmets tinting the world in an erie green tint.
"Alright, you know what to do. Alpha Squad, secure the perimeter and servant quaters. Bravo with me, we're going inside."
Observation of the target's compound over the last two weeks has indicated the following: at any one time, there are six normal guards on duty. The house is a smallish two-storey villa, which means that it'll be challenging, but not impossible, to sneak through it silently. The servant quaters, 250 meters away, are where the domestic staff and the rest of the guards are bunked.
Bravo Squad heads in, and Ivanovich motions to Franz, who nods and takes the lead. From the rookie greenhorn, he's become Ivanovich's right hand man, and he was the one who'd planned the internal assault into Blueno's lair. They quickly move in to the back door, preparing to go in, as Bravo 22 disables the mechanical lock and Bravo 24 kills the power. The already dark villa becomes even darker with no light, and Franz wryly says, "Fighting in the dark with NVGs... this is cheating by TSAB standards, isn't it?"
"Only if you get caught," says Ivanovich gruffly, though Bravo Squad can read the amusement in his voice. "Hold for Alpha."
"Alpha 10 here," goes Alpha Squad's leader. "Sentries neutralised, servant quaters neutralised. Be advised, it looks like there may be guards inside the house."
"Copy. Bravo rolling in. Alpha, call in our top cover."
"Copy. Strike deep and fast."
Franz opens the door slowly and steps into the villa, his supressed SMG at the ready. Moving slowly and carefully, Bravo Squad begins clearing each room, one by one; once the ground floor is confirmed secured, they move up. The tension rises as they slowly climb the stairs, and halt on the landing as Franz makes a series of hand signals: Two SMG, one shotgun.
The team fans out, picking their targets, moving swiftly. The guards aren't on alert but are sleeping, expecting the outside force to act as a tripwire and warn them. Their weapons are safed and held loosely in their grips, and all are splayed loosely in chairs instead of standing guard.
Amateurs, thinks Franz contemptuously, and signals Bravo 22 and 23. The three of them take aim and fire supressed 3-round bursts into their targets; the 5mm caseless rounds proving instantly fatal, killing the targets where they sleep. Regardless of caliber, headshots are inherently fatal.
They quickly secure the upper floor, clearing rooms, till only one room is left: the office and ajoining master bedroom of Vincenza Blueno. The way it's been set up, the only way to her bedroom is through the office, and from the building plans the Intel Section was able to hack, it was designed for acsethetics and as a natural chokepoint.
"Hold up. Soap, use the thermals and check the office."
At Franz's order, Bravo 24 brings out a piece of special equipment: a portable termal sensor. It's a little-known fact that mages have a higher body temperature compared to non-magical persons, which would allow Bravo Squad to pinpoint any mages inside...
"No good, Jack. The wall's been insulated; it's not gettin' anythin' offa the sensor."
"Alright. We'll have to go loud. Soap, put the thermal sensor away and get ready to toss a flashbang in with me. Weapons at the ready, Squad. Let's do this."
Unseen behind his helmet's visor, Ivanovich nods in approval, and brings his supressed SMG up and at the ready. Franz slowly opens the door, and he and Soap toss a flashbang each, before he closes the door, blocking the flash and muffling the sound: a second later he kicks the door open and the squad fans out into the room.
The flashbang is a grenade designed to incapacitate its victims. Similar to Vita's Esiengehaul, it delivers a bright flash of light and a loud bang - hence the name. Unlike Eisengehaul, it lasts momentarily, as it's used not as an escape and evasion distraction, but as the prelude to an entry assault. It's among the few technological weapons that are truly effective against mages; for all their skill, power and ability, mages are still human.
Franz can see the enemy now, the four mercenaries hired by Blueno. Two are on the floor, hunched over in pain, grasping their heads; a pair of three-round bursts from himself and Soap put them out of their misery. The other two are unsteady on their feet and unfocused; Ivanovich and his team make short work of them. By the time the mercenaries have been dispatched and the squad regroups outside Blueno's master bedroom door, less than five seconds have passed.
There's no time for Soap to deploy his sensor; Franz tries the door and finds it's locked, and makes a hand signal: shotgun. Bravo 23 nods and steps forward, unslinging the shotgun strapped to his back, and unloads two slugs into the door; the lock breaks and Franz kicks the door in, tossing a flashbang, before rolling in a moment later, covering the entryway as Bravo fans in.
The Assault Platoon mages bring their weapons up, finding Blueno groggily rising from her bed, ignoring the lingerie that is her nightwear; Bravo 23 toggles his underbarrel flashlight and shines it into her face, blinding her; Blueno responds by pulling a small pistol from under a pillow and firing blindly, and Franz has the bad luck to be in her line of fire. The 7mm rounds strike him in the middle of his body armor and he staggers back and falls down on his back; while the others duck, Blueno rises and runs to a corner of the large bedroom; obviously heading for a bolt hole. Ivanovich sights his SMG and fires one round; the round strikes her in the left leg, grazing it in a painful but non-lethal injury, and she falls to the ground. She reaches towards a gem on a chair around her neck, intending to summon her device, but as her hand touches it she's painfully tackled by the Sergeant Major and Bravo 22, the former snatching away her inert Device and knocking her out with a blow to the back of her neck, while the latter handcuffs her, deliberately locking the cuffs too tight.
"This is Bravo 20," says Ivanovich into the Order channel, as Bravo 22 roughly hauls Blueno to her feet and Soap slaps on a field dressing to the wound. "Target is secure, I have a man down."
"Copy, Bravo 20. This is Sword 1," replies Glen. "Alpha Squad has secured servant quaters and neutralised guards. Lance Flight and Sword Flight have rescued civillian captives."
"Civillian captives?"
"The target's sex slaves," said Glen coldly. "Hidden dungeon under the villa."
"Goddamnit."
"You were focused on getting upstairs; it's understandable. That's why we have Alpha Squad and the Air Force here. Dropship ETA in ten minutes. Secure any intelligence you can find, and get the target out of there. Remember: she's no good to us dead."
"Copy," said Ivanovich coldly. "Alright, squad, good job. Soap, you're holdin' the target. Bravo 22, check Jack-"
"I'm alright, I'm alright," gasps Franz, wincing painfully. "My head...sorry 'bout that."
"Learn to duck, Jackass," says Soap, not quite sucessful in keeping his snickers quiet; and Franz can almost see the relieved grins on the faces of his squadmates. "You okay?"
"Yeah," replies Franz, accepting Soap's hand and getting to his feet; from a thigh sheath he draws his combat knife and digs out the two bullets that were caught by his body armor. "Didn't penetrate the outer layer, but I was surprised." Looking down at the small hole in his Barrier Jacket, he shook his head in awe. "Damn. We have the best Barrier Jackets ever in the whole TSAB. Impact and magical protection..."
"If you've got time to talk, head to her office and strip her computer," ordered Ivanovich. "22, head to the extraction point and watch the prisoner. 24, help 21 with the office. 23, you're with me: let's comb this room. Move, Freelancers!"
* * * * *
Ten minutes later
Inside Pelican Dropship Echo-419
The D77 Pelican dropship in its basic configuration could hold 12 people comfortably in seats, with the rest having to stand or sit on the floor. Echo-419 mounted a troop bay extension, allowing a maximum of thirty people to be carried in the bay, more than enough for the 20 Order mages, their prisoner and the rescued underaged girls who were now strapped to their seats. Ivanovich and an Alpha Squad mage were the last to board, and Glen looked at the Sergeant Major quizically. "Sergeant Major. What took you so long?"
"Oh, this," grinned Ivanovich evilly, who nodded to Alpha 14. "Blow it, Nagant."
Sergeant Aleksndr "Psycho" Nagant smiled a radiant smile that was almost overwhelming in childlike delight and joy. It was a smile that would have warmed any unsuspecting person's heart, the kind of smile that produced warm feelings in people, a smile that would not have been out of place on the face of a religious figure. The glow of his smile seemed to light up the Pelican bay, and his normally serious face was radiant with love, joy, peace, and happiness.
And then he pressed the detonator held in his right hand.
Glen had barely opened his mouth to say "What?" before Blueno's villa went up in an explosion, while Ivanovich clapped Psycho on the back as the latter made his way to his seat, graciously accepting the enthusiastic applause of the Assault Platoon. The Sergeant Major stood in the open hatch as the Pelican rose and began climbing, finally toggling the hatch closed and turning to look at Glen.
"Something the matter, Captain?"
"Covert ops, faggot! COVERT OPS!" snarled Glen, and Ivanovich countered with an blankly innocent expression on his face.
"But sir, this is covert. We're using distraction and the explosion to cover the fact that the guards were gunned down professionally and to hide the fact that we've recovered intelligence from the villa. Plus, this fulfills the operating methods of a local mafia hit; they go for massive explosions. It'll draw attention away from us." With that bit of wisdom imparted, Ivanovich headed for his seat and strapped himself in, while Glen could only stare at him, aghast.
"Why the hell do you people always blow up things? Doesn't stealth mean anything to you?!"
"Do you really want the answer to that, XO?" asked Franz.
"No."
* * * * *
Four Days later
OFM Base, Mid-Childa
1740 local time.
"I see," said Erick thoughtfully. "So that's how it went. Wish I coulda been there..." he sighed. "Iffn I had Franz to help me with the paperwork... I'm beginnin’ to see why you've been tryin’ to hang on to him, Sergeant Major."
"Yessir."
"Glen, I know you prefer stealth ops, but the Sergeant Major does have a point. An explosive distraction can work just as well. On the other hand, Sergeant Major, the XO has a point. Sometimes, it is better to sneak in, knife them in their sleep, and sneak out quietly. D'ya get what I mean?"
"Yessir."
"Now, I want both a' yas to shake hands like men, and accept each others points of view, and next time, discuss things through with each other. I will not have my XO and Sergeant Major fuedin' over tactics, or I'll kick yer asses, y'hear me?"
"Yessir," agreed both men. It could be worse, they reflected. And they were man enough to admit that this sort of thing shouldn't really be happening.
"Good. Now, movin' on. General O'Neill sends a "Job well done" message to our boys and girls, and he'll be comin’ to observe the interrogation of the prisoner. XO, have you decided who's the interrogation team?"
"Franz and Mikhail, Sir," said Glen. "Mikhail will be playing the bad cop, while Franz will be the good cop. Mikhail will be the lead."
"That makes sense," agreed Erick. "Mikhail bein' Intel and Franz bein' a former Gardai NCO. Alright. Movin' on. Two years ago I asked both of you to observe and monitor Franz, and see if he was ready to go to Command School. Sergeant Major, at the time you raised an objection, saying you needed more time with him. I gave you an extra two years. In your opinion, is he ready now?"
"He's a rough diamond," said Ivanovich, "but that's better than the lump of coal he was, the last two years. This raid was his final exam, in a way. I had him plan and lead the assault into the villa, and he's satisfied me. I agree that he's ready for OCS; he's now a rough diamond, needing the polishing that OCS will give him."
"Thank you. XO?"
"He has...matured. Slightly. Give him a rifle and he'll be cooly competant; give him his Device and he'll be sprouting away on the powers of the true spirit of men and hot blood. But other than that... I believe he is indeed ready for OCS. He definately fulilled the primary criteria; he passed his A-rank promotion exam the week before we deployed to capture Blueno. I just wish I had more time to beat the whole "True Spirit of Men" out of his thick skull."
"Now, now, we all have our quirks," grinned Erick. "So it's official. Staff Sergeant Franz Jaeger's last official act as an NCO of the Order of Freelance Mages will be as one of Vincenza Blueno's interrogators, and then we finish that in time for him to be on the next flight to Command School. Any bets on how many tries he'll need?"
"Three," said Glen.
"Two," countered Ivanovich.
Erick merely chuckled and stood, shutting down his computer. "Alright. Since we've taken care of all that, round up everybody and we'll redeploy in search of liquid nourishment and R&R. First round's on me t'night. Get outta my office and I don't want to see you two t'night unless you're in civvies."
"Yessir," nodded both men, who rose and left.
* * * * *
The post-mission celebratory mood that night was eclipsed two weeks later, when it was confirmed that Franz would be going to OCS; his going-away party was the biggest party he'd ever experienced, with lots of food and plenty of drink. He took the joshing and joking and toasts pretty well, and even laughed alongside everyone when the pool was started as to how many tries he'd take to pass OCS.
Then again, by the time they started the betting pool, he was pretty drunk.
* * * * *
Three days after his going-away party, Staff Sergeant Franz Jaeger, 31 years old, ranked A+, reported to TSAB Officer Candidate School, and began his instruction period, the oldest candidate in his semester.
* * * * *
Four months later, 2nd Lieutenant Franz Jaeger graduated from OCS on his first try. When he returned to the OFM, Ivanovich and Glen were so pissed at him, he spent the next three months doing the paperwork of both the Assault Platoon and Air Force.