“My entire team is dead! All of them! And now a quarter of the fucking country is living in the freezing cold! You say you have a damned solution commander, then I want to hear it!”

Storming through the entrance of the operations center at Joint Naval Base Holland, Fleet Admiral Sikorsky shouted at the commander that had just spoken to him a mere second ago. Standing to the side of the room, Captain Thompson, Chieftain Araish, and Lieutenant Patterson remained silent as their current meeting with Colonel Forester was cut short.

“Sir, the OMFS is responding accordingly and operators on the ground are requesting assistance from NOGS stationed at—”

“Does it look like I give a shit! Thirteen Army Paratroopers are dead and over twenty law enforcement personnel are currently engaged in cleaning up the mess at the Promgrave Power Plant. Hell, chemical weapons have completely killed anyone still inside, so the response time has been limited by several days!”

The entire Ops Center went silent. Vice Admiral Sikorsky had made his point and his frustrations were tempered due to him having an outburst at the poor naval commander who stood at attention with a face that reminded Captain Thompson of his own time during boot camp.

Before anyone could continue their work, the rear door opened and three men stepped inside, Admiral Martin, “Phoenix”, and two other people Rear-Admiral Thomas, and Defense Administration representative Donovan Marcello stepped forward. Admiral Martin was quickly saluted by all service members in the room with the exception of civilian contractors, Sikorsky, and Thompson’s riflemen. The intelligence admiral returned the salute, and everyone returned to their duties while Vice Admiral stood alongside the battle commander who stood somewhat timid ini the presence of several Flag Officers.

“Donovan, please consult the OMFS agents alongside Colonel Forester, they have the answers that you are looking for.” Admiral Martin said with a calm smile before wiping it away and stepping up to his “superior” the Fleet Admiral.

“Captain, Chieftain.” Donovan said sharply as he walked up to the four-man group standing at the nearby table.

“Sir.” Thompson said with a calm voice. Lecca stood beside him wary of the man that she had met before the attack on the

Walking to the front of the table and resting his hands on the papers and maps scattered atop, Donovan looked to the group of officers in the center of the room. A smile broke out on his face as he stood up taking in the environment around him.

“It’s funny how people act when shit hits the fan. If they have to, both predators and prey will eat each other alive.”

The group froze upon realizing that Captain Thompson was the one to say those words. Lecca took a cautious step back as the captain look towards her with a sly smile and a sharp look in his eye. Over the past week his rough beard had grown considerably, and he no longer looked like the clean-cut officer he once was. There was a different aura him that separated his identity away from the Rangers anyone within the room had encountered since their arrival to this new world.

“People get engaged with the wrong groups and their read for any tactical decision is muddied. They don’t know how to rendezvous and solve problems.”

With some hesitation the group around the table shifted uncomfortably. Only Lecca found herself with enough courage to speak her mind, “That’s one way of putting it, captain.”

Providing a beaming smile and crossing his arms, Thompson stepped away from the table as he quietly nodded for the off-put Donovan to continue his new—sudden brief that no doubt came from central command that was currently gathering resources from every organization within the Federation.

Taking a deep breath, Donovan pulled a manila folder from his briefcase he carried with him.

“With the formation of CENTCOM, and the collection of all intelligence agencies resources and personnel, there is one more piece to this puzzle that we need you agents to figure out before we enter war.” Donovan began looking towards Lecca, “A man named Mr. Que and his mercenaries calling themselves the Volunteer Corps mentioned your name Ms. Lecca and the name of Agent Mike Randall, and Agent Jacob Simon.”

Thompson seemed entertained by the conversation, but he soon backed away and quickly exited the command post much to the silent chagrin of Colonel Forester. Lecca paid no mind to the captain as she paid more attention to the sudden name drop of the Volunteer Corps. The few reports she had come across revealed that the OMFS had considered the organization of volunteers to be a foreign terror organization, but the drop that their leader had been taken into custody had worried her to some degree.

“Sir, are you in contact with Mr. Que?” Lecca pressed trying to understand the current situation that would give her the idea that CENTCOM would integrate foreign troops, no less a possible “terrorist” in the words of the Federation.”

“They were able to negotiate with the OMFS and the President.” Donovan revealed. “Their information provided the arrest of thirteen individuals operating within the Frontier and prevented an attack on an Army outpost along the western coast.”

“Seems they’ve been busy.” Colonel Forester said.

“Quite. They’ve provided enough insight into the current situation within the Kingdom of Yondel, that our analysts are scrambling to cross-reference reports, and contact our operatives working inside the kingdom.”

Lecca interrupted the two as she turned her attention away from the men standing in the center of the Ops Center, “That admiral that you walked in with directed you to speak to us about something. What is it about and who is that man?” She questioned.

There had been too much at play. So many sides, so many people each played a part in the deconstruction of not only her home country, but the people of the Federation as well. Here she was, not a princess, not an officer, not an agent, just another person living their life in this large picture that was well beyond her abilities. She wasn’t even sure that her ability of nullification would be of any use to the Federation or her Kingdom as the last time she had used it was during the reconnaissance mission almost a month ago. Even that was limited in use as the power of the army greatly outshined the limited strives, she could gain with her magic.

With the sudden appearance of “Specters” during her last mission, and the sudden uprising of coordinated, but unaligned terrorist groups, it was clear that shadow organizations, well beyond the scope of what any intelligence agency hoped to accomplish, were actively fighting each other in the hope to gain control of the Federation, Kingdom, or both.

One was a magic-based nation that could cast spells that were once thought lost, and the other was a nation of cold steel.

“Yes, I do need something, and since you are the only one here outside of the Colonel, the responsibility will fall to you.” Donovan said as he stretched his arms. “I need you to gather Agent Randall’s fireteam and get them ready to be deployed under CENTCOM. Tell them to meet at the hangar southwest of here. We finally have a hit on the remaining terrorists that started this entire fucking mess.”

“Right away, sir.” Turning on her heels, Lecca quickly exited the room hugging her black blazer close to her body. Exiting the Ops Center, the princess felt the bitter cold against her face, and she took a shaky breath as she walked through the naval base.

Like all other military facilities, the base around was storming with activity. NOGS, MPs, other infantry units from the army, and more were running around transporting supplies and preparing to move out on missions throughout the Federation. She strode forward gallantly aiming to reach the restaurant where Mike’s fireteam had taken refuge in for the evening.

“Get geared up! We’re on the seventh floor tonight!”

“Roger! James, get over here!”

Stepping to the side, Lecca listened as a platoon’s worth of NOGS raced by carrying their seabags. Their destination was unknown but based on their line of conversation it seemed that they were to assault or protect something in a large building. The newly formed naval-infantry organization had been busy with rapid deployments all over the Federation, and there were whispers that they would be engaging in foreign missions soon.

Lecca felt uneasy when she learned this some time ago.

Brushing her growing silver hair out of her face, the young woman continued to the restaurant with a determined look in her brown eyes. Pressing her hands onto the wooden door, she entered the warm, homely environment. The light chatter being shared by Federation service reminded her of the many mead halls she had spent her in her adolescence. Her heels pressing against the wooden floors were loud enough to attract the attention of nearby patrons and the squadron she looked for.

Staff Sergeant Randall, Mike, her Reclaimer, was at the bar talking to the bartender. Turning around to the sound of her footsteps, Mike called over another shot of alcohol before staring at the princess. His eyes glazed over her curly silver hair that gently reflected the warm lighting from the lights and nearby fireplace. Her pale skin blended perfectly and matched her business attire she had chosen for the night’s mission. Her lips were a gentle shade of red, though it wasn’t overbearing, just enough to make her stand out like the princess she was. Those around could sense that she indeed was of noble blood, but no one said a word as they weren’t privy to such truths.

Not trying to get caught staring, in which he already did by Lecca, Mike brought over the shot of alcohol he ordered and passed it to the silver-haired angel. Gently taking the shot glass and preparing herself to drink the contents within, a small smile plastered on Mike’s faced quickly morphed into a frown as he settled himself in his bar stool inviting the princess to join him.

“I assumed the colonel provided our next mission?” He curiously asked keeping his brown eyes on the burgundy-colored liquid in his glass.

Lecca retold the events that happened in the Operations Center. She felt reluctant to tell the staff sergeant the incident with Captain Thompson, but she just barely whispered it hoping to not alarm the rest of the squadron that was sitting nearby in three booths. With a concerned look, Mike paid full attention to Leccamaradel out of the corner of his eye. Oliver Thompson was a man he grew to truly trust over the near years’ worth of time he had spent in this world. Though losses had crippled morale when they returned from the border, his captain, the man he now called “Oliver” wouldn’t simply turn on his morals no less his fellow troops. This sudden switch of character was unprecedented, but it couldn’t be explained without understanding all they had been through even before they left Earth.

“We only have so much time left until war breaks out. Perhaps a month at best.” Mike grumbled keeping his hands on the bar and resisting the urge to grasp his head in frustration.

“Our mission is to run back and forth trying to stop this.” Lecca surmised in a faint voice.

“That’s putting it lightly.”

“Maybe.” Lecca said snaking her hand on top of Mike’s catching the man slightly off guard. “But I believe that we can all get through this.

He took a quiet breath as he looked at the silver-haired maiden. She had longed captured his attraction and now she was doing something that made his mind short-circuit. Quietly faced his head forward and avoiding the peering gazes of his men behind him. This was neither the time nor place, but in the grand scheme that was the conflict between two government powers, he supposed there would be no ideal time to just simply talk. He was nervous. It was hard to mask such an emotion that could overwhelm his stoic nature that had been nurtured by his time in the army and his time as a Ranger.

“I miss them.” He whispered in a nearly inaudible voice.

Leccamaradel’s gentle smile faltered as she just grasped his warm hand even tighter. She—he had already lost two of his brothers. Tugging his hand, Mike turned to look at her. He seemed to be disturbed, but as he turned his head away from the woman. Calming herself, the princess lifted her free palm and casted as small spell that would only affect her and the staff sergeant. The gentle lines hovered just above her skin and dispersed into small particles that faded away.

He bit his tongue.

His eyes gently widened.

The hand that was over his tightened.

Green, Jackson, Xavier, Eric Briner, all the other Rangers, Soldiers, Marines, Sailors, and Airmen, brothers and sisters he had ever had the honor of serving besides, drank and ate beside his new fireteam. All of them talked and cheered random words that never could reach his ears. Each had bright smiles on their faces, and one person, Jacob Green turned to him while nodding his head and raising his glass. Slowly each person raised their drink towards the staff sergeant.

At the center of the group, a familiar face, the one that welcomed them to this new world, mouthed a word as he took his glass and raised it high into the air.

Within seconds their memories exploded into millions of golden specs and floated gently to the ground.

A single tear slipped down the side of his face. He lifted his free hand and touched the small drop of salty water.

The cold hand gently holding his seemed so far away. He did it subconsciously, but he interlocked his fingers with hers and turned back to the bar. Something within had changed, and as he looked towards the angel, he sputtered out incoherent noise. He held his words as he looked directly at Lecca’s face.

He saw the look in her eyes, she was the only other one that saw what just happened.

“I saw, him.” He chocked trying to hold his breath in between words.

He covered his mouth with his free hand and tears poured down his face. He fought against his now clogged nose, and he struggled to breath as Lecca scooted her stool over and allowed him to rest on her shoulder. Mike grasped her hand even tighter and the two sat listening to the gentle tune of the piano that was playing on a nearby radio.

Mike couldn’t tell why he had just broken down. Seeing their faces once more had just overwhelmed his mind and any buried emotions he had long ago ditched to continue the mission had suddenly found hits way back to him. He hated every part of this. The crying. Loosing his cool. It wasn’t who he was, or at least who he perceived himself to be. He had caught Lecca casting the spell. Those three words had made her spring into action, and he regrated saying them as he was now in a disgraceful display, not that it truly mattered to the princess who had long grown accustomed to the antics of his fellow Rangers and the different culture of the Federation.

All he wanted to ask is, why.

No words were to follow as he stopped himself aiming to catch his breath.

Staring at the hand she intertwined with Mike’s, no words, nothing she could provide the answer her Reclaimer was searching for. She wasn’t even sure if her mere presence was enough to be a calming force, but her mind sharpened, and her gaze softened into the smallest smile she could muster as Mike lifted his tear-stained face and wiped it with a napkin the bartender had provided. He collected himself instantly and grasped his glass dunking it back in one fell swoop.

Taking a breather for just a minute, Mike then stood up and turned around to his men.

“Get set to move.” He ordered.

Noticing that her fingers were still interlocked with his, Lecca felt a warm feeling as she stood up and regretfully separated their link. Her hands turned cold, and she felt that a part of her was missing as the staff sergeant looked upon his men with a clear pair of muddied, brown eyes, and a smile so convincing that she felt like a rock under a bright sun.

“Our current destination is three-bravo, the hangar on the far side of the Ops Center.” She provided letting the staff sergeant take charge.

She stared directly into his half-red eyes. The reality she saw was something of her imagination, she now just saw the man she would soon aim to dedicate her life to. He nodded his head ever-so-slightly and mouthed a silent “Thank you”. Lecca returned the gesture. It was the least she could do in this uncertain time.

“NOGS have already gathered our equipment from the armory. Best we head their now, SL. We’ll give you two a minute.” Lieutenant Bishop said as he walked towards the door with the other riflemen.

As they walked into the freezing night beyond, Mike found it difficult to face Lecca after what she had just done to him. She brought back the unsettling memories that distracted him and all he could do was process the reality that he had momentarily tried to escape from. The alcohol he topped off had burned his throat making it near impossible to speak any words that might’ve came to mind as he slowly stumbled in place as he tried to turn to her. Being here was a distraction, and he needed to get back on focus.

“Don’t mind the lieutenant, he’s a Serpent.” Lecca chuckled.

“A Serpent?”

“Someone who rose to become an officer during their time of service. Though, that’s what we call them in the Kingdom.” She explained.

“Huh, we call those guys Mustangs.”

She brushed her shoulder-length silver hair as she formed a smile. “Are they as bad as they are at home?” She said before instantly realizing that her two words she said were accidently applied in the context of Yondel being both their homes.

“If you mean by strict, then not necessarily. Thompson is a Mustang, and like others, he always stayed tight knit with his enlisted men. I could tell you some stories of when I was stationed in Germany alongside almost a whole company of Mustangs, but I doubt you’d believe what happened.”

“Perhaps, but you’ve showed me the impossible, haven’t you?” She said with a wink as she hastily turned and walked to the door.

A gentle chuckle came from a nearby booth. Mike paid no attention to the elderly couple nearby as he turned to the bartender and dropped the money he owed. His mind was still scrambled from that vision Lecca provided him and he didn’t know how he should feel about the whole situation they got caught in.

The thing he was at least thankful for was being able to see their faces one more time…

A fierce wave of snow battered against the two of them as they forced their way through the night, Mike had instinctively grabbed her hand and led her through the snow that had built up on base. All around vehicles full of NOGS made their final trips as missions around the entire Federation were about to commence.

The naval campaign was soon to begin; their mission was to contain the uptick in hostile forces approaching from the Frontier and provide enough room for army soldiers to carve a way for an invasion of the kingdom. They had been delayed by several weeks due to the heavy snow that fell upon their staging positions, but it was almost a matter of time before the frost thawed and the summer sun allowed the to progress without being impeded.

The President had caved to the war factions, and the military was in full mobilization to come out swinging in retaliation for the damage that had been done within the last two months. Mike was unsure of this whole situation. Beyond President Harding, it was clear that the Defense Secretary Sullivan Falk and OMFS Director Thomas Polanski were pressing for war. The Senate was still on the edge, but they remained firm in not wanting to start all out war, though the Harding could initiate a “counter terrorist” operation on foreign soil which would skip right to war.

The only thing that plagued his mind was if something akin to the nuclear football existed.

Magic was a wild card.

Nuclear power was the true equalizer.

The Federation’s technology put it well into the time of 1912 at least. This a problem, but it could be amended. Though if technology progressed as it did on Earth, magic could very well create something alongside nuclear power, thus the world stage would be forgotten as the Federation would enter a period of complete control.

“It’s just ahead!” Lecca said forcing her way though the snow and grabbing hold of Mike’s arm.

“I got the door!”

Reaching the door and placing his hand on the cold handle, Mike pressed the door open and led Lecca inside the warmed hangar. Near the center of the large building, a group of twelve NOGS and the staff sergeant’s fireteam were gathered around a large cargo plane. There, Colonel Forester was speaking to them while placing several documents on a board just in front of him.

Walking behind the group, Mike silently greeted his men and the unnamed NOGS unit.

“Alright!” Colonel Forester clapped his hands as he turned the board around revealing a large map with three documents on either side. “Listen up here! We have a priority target, and the information came directly from Field Commander Osho of the OMFS and Headmaster John Fakhara of 1st National Academy.”

“The headmaster?” Mike whispered quietly enough to not be heard.

“We finally have a lead on the priority target that started this shitshow!” The colonel barked with wide eyes as he pointed his hand to the only picture on the board. “Nao “Raven” Kaito. This guy is a real piece of shit! Thirty-two-years-old, five wives, enough gold to buy a damn continent. And not to mention, he’s a former hero of the Kingdom of Yondel, a hero that went rouge and slaughtered all our advance diplomatic teams that tried to reach to our neighbors beyond Yondel.”

The picture displayed a long-haired man. He was wearing the same clothes he wore during his assault on the capital, and it was obvious that he had patched them up.

“This picture was taken by one of our best, he’s dead now.”

A NOGS operative raised his hand. “Sir, if this guy killed our best, and then some, how the hell do you expect nineteen of us to take this guy down?”

“An apt question. The only answer lies besides you in the form of Chieftain Leccamaradel Emma Araish.” The colonel said with a sly smile as everyone turned to the silver-haired maiden. All held looks of skepticism, even Mike’s fellow Rangers were confused on what the officer was trying to say.

“She holds the key to taking that bastard out, nullification magic.”

“What!?” The same naval operative turned hostile as he glared daggers.

“I know you Navy boys hate magic, but this is what we need to stop these attacks, or at least take out the head of the serpent.” Forester intervened. “She’s the only one that can make this “hero” vulnerable to our bullets. Evidence does suggest that Raven can take hits, but the agent that provided that report is currently on mission and is unable to confirm what he saw.”

“If he can bleed…” Mike began.

“Then we can kill him.” The operative finished as he turned away and hid amongst his fellow sailors.

Colonel Forester grasped his board as he gave the group one last warning, “You’ll be wheels up in fifty. Don’t let this snowstorm cut you out of this. Briefing will continue once airborne.

Let’s stop this war before it begins!”

Publicly Available Information: Ghosts and Predators – Priority Manhunt of Target “Raven”:

Three strike teams comprised of troops from the OMFS, NOGS, Air Combat Divisions, Special Army Reconnaissance Corps, Naval Demolitions, NIA Intelligence, and Project Blackbird, a nation-wide search began for target “Raven” the man responsible for the string of terrorist attacks on Federation soil for the last two months.

The target is listed as S-Class and is not to be trifled with. The mission is suspected to have a 99% casualty rate and there is little hope that these brave men will return home after the target is neutralized.