Federal Agents of Magic Boxed Set

by T. R. Cameron

  Diana knew Rath was up to something, but given the wicked smile on his face, she reasoned that she probably didn’t want to know what. She retrieved her own batons from her backpack and stood. They had practiced enough together to be comfortable using the real weapons instead of padded ones, and both were able to pull blows at the last second when they chose to do so. They focused on technique for most of their training. When they did choose speed, they usually switched to the foam versions, because the battles occasionally got a little exciting.

  I suppose that’s an appropriate word for having a manic troll somersaulting around and smacking you with things.

  They crossed to an empty patch of frosty grass, and Diana spun her weapons to loosen her wrists. Rath practiced drawing his several times and impressed her with the smooth way the baton went from holster to full extension in one quick flick of his wrist. She wouldn’t want to face off against the troll for real, even though he’d be about the only opponent she’d ever taken on who was more height-challenged than she was. “Start us off, Rath.”

  He needed no additional urging and waded in with batons a-whirl. She’d taught him the eight main attack vectors, and they generally stuck to them during warmup, varying the order to keep one another on their toes. She reacted to each incoming blow without needing to think. Frequent practice allowed her to avoid, redirect, or block each swing. Her counterattacks were more difficult because of his size, which benefitted the troll so long as he protected his head. She snaked a baton through his defense with a clever curve and tapped him on the skull.

  Rath growled and increased his attack speed.

  Damn. I always underestimate how fast he really is.

  She worked hard to defend herself, but eventually, one slipped through and rapped her on the knee.

  He paused, did a celebratory backflip, and grinned at her. “One to one.”

  She sat on a dry patch of ground and held a hand up. “Two-minute rest.”

  Her gaze drifted to check on Max, who was busily sniffing the playground. He has lots of kids to smell, even in the winter, I guess. The place was usually deserted on Sunday mornings, which is why they chose it for training. Not that Diana would have worried about the combination of dog, troll, and children. But parents occasionally seemed nervous about the idea when the pair was around. She turned to Rath. “I have a question for you.”

  He crouched until they were eye to eye. “Okay.”

  “It seems to me like you don’t want to get as big as you can. Is that true? Is there a reason for it?”

  He shrugged. “Bigger is less agile. Acrobatics are more fun than pure strength.”

  It’s funny how well he speaks when he chooses to.

  She tilted her head and considered his words. His fighting style did rely much more on speed and dexterity than it did brute force. And she could imagine, assuming one was skilled enough to have a choice, that cavorting around like a damn fool might hold some appeal. She managed a smile. “Okay, I can see that.” Her stomach twisted painfully as she forced the next sentence out. “But to be clear, I’m not holding you back, am I?”

  The troll grinned. “Nope. All is good.” A canny expression slid onto his face. “But maybe more Maxes would help.”

  The tension flooded out of her, and she growled playfully. “We will not get another dog, Rath.” The troll laughed at her, and Max gave a timely bark. “It might make sense for you to train in a bigger form, though, don’t you think? In case something happens that requires extra strength?”

  His thought process was visible, but he seemed reluctant to respond. She fumbled in the backpack and pulled out four foam cylinders—two sized for her and a pair for someone taller than her—and held the larger versions out to him.

  After a moment, he grinned. “Is good. Must train.”

  A short while later, they were set. Rath towered above her at over seven feet tall, not counting his neon-purple hair. His belt and shock batons rested safely in her backpack, and they each whirled the foam sticks as they prepared to battle. Max sat beside the bench and watched the pair curiously.

  I imagine this isn’t something you see every day. She laughed inwardly. I hope no easily shocked people wander by.

  She lunged at her opponent with a yell and aimed for his legs. Logic said they would be his weak point as he adjusted to his height. He skipped to the side, brought one baton down in a curling sweep, and flicked the other at her head. She ducked below it and stopped, then turned to face him. His gaze was intent. He was clearly focused on whatever he felt in the new form.

  Diana moved in straight and slow, and they parried at close range. It resembled their usual training but with more effort and energy and the foam allowed for full-force attacks. His height prevented him from attacking her legs, though.

  Aha! The tables have turned.

  Her head, however, was another matter. She was forced to focus on defense against his flurry of headshots to the exclusion of making any offensive moves of her own.

  She backed away to evade the blows and thrust back into the attack. She flicked her fingers without thinking and used her telekinesis to bump his leg out of the way. He staggered, and she scored a hit as she ran past. She laughed as she turned. “Okay, not fair. I know.”

  Rath grinned as he moved in fast. She blocked the first blows, but when he brought a kick around that connected to her thigh with enough force that she stumbled sideways, her smile immediately matched his. “So, that’s how you want to play it?”

  He nodded.

  “Your funeral, pal. It’s on.” She lunged and used a mixture of physical attacks and telekinetic blasts, then practiced redirecting his blows with pulses of magic. Every so often, she threw in a kick to keep him worried about that possibility, but in a real fight against an opponent with batons, she’d focus on weapons before she went hand-to-hand. Finally, during a particularly vicious pass, he disarmed her with two simultaneous sweeps of his rods.

  Diana staggered back as he advanced and chopped down with his batons in what would be a battle-ending strike to her head. She knelt and threw her arms up, imagining a movie scene where the hero blocked with a quarterstaff, and a shimmering force appeared between her fists to impede his weapons. He blinked, and despite her own very real surprise, she spun into a sweep that knocked the troll’s legs out from under him. It felt like she’d collided with tree trunks, and she regretted the bruises she’d have before the action was even finished. But it was successful, at least. He landed on his behind, looked at her, and echoed peal upon peal of laughter as he shrank to his three-foot size again.

  “Diana. Fighting mode. Is good.” She fell back onto the cold grass and laughed with him.

  Is good. A groan followed almost instantly as the troll yelled, “Round two!” and flipped ninja-style to his feet.

  Right. Fighting mode. Must train.

  Chapter Twelve

  The lower level of the main ARES facility was finally finished. Diana nodded in appreciation of the excellent work the construction crews had accomplished. The core took up half the floor. There was no need for the option to secure it as they did in the DC office, so there were no tracks for the mounts or movable walls. But otherwise, it was identical. The center display and mounted monitors looked crisp and efficient as they displayed data on the looming threat.

  The others were already gathered. Cara and Tony stood within the technological oval and both wore the new AR glasses they’d received. Each human agent now owned two pairs, one for ARES missions and another for their roles as security consultants. Rath had his own set sized for his three-foot form to use inside the base with ridged ends to hold them in place, but they had agreed it was probably a bad idea for him to wear them in the field. They were expensive, and size-changing trolls were not part of the eyewear’s operating specs. He followed her to the rest of her team.

  The separate displays showed satellite views of the block surrounding the museum, and the main display table provided the blueprints of the buildi
ng. Tony motioned in the air to interact with the image and zoom in or expand various parts of it.

  We should call him Tony Stark. Heh.

  He looked up as she neared. “Howdy, boss. This looks like a mess.”

  Cara nodded. “A serious mess.”

  “That’s pretty much our mandate.” She laughed and dark chuckles answered her as she gestured at the arrayed information. “Has anything changed in the twelve hours since we last reviewed this?”

  The other woman shook her head. “Same old. It’s far from ideal.”

  “That’s also our mandate.” She waved for them to follow, and they crossed to the armory near the entrance door. Working quickly, she moved from one black metal cabinet to the next and used her palm print and the numerical code to unlock them. The locks would respond to any member of the team, but she felt a certain pride of ownership and wanted to do it herself.

  There were five, each about six feet tall and four wide, a couple of feet deep, and securely attached to the wall. A pair were dedicated to weapons, two more to armor and defensive items, and the last to specialty gear. Dark plastic benches were arranged in front for equipping lower-body defenses and boots. There was more than enough room in the area and also in the cabinets since the space was designed for eight agents rather than the three-and-a-half currently assigned. Another similarly sized portion of the chamber on the opposite side was conspicuously empty, reserved for whatever other needs might appear as their purpose evolved.

  Diana set the pieces of her own equipment on the bench. She sat and began to strap on the black shin and thigh guards. The ARES armor preserved mobility and flexibility at the cost of pure coverage. So far, it had proved a useful trade, as she found herself dodging twice as often as she was blocked.

  Exoskeletons would be nice, even though that’s not really our area. Hell, maybe battle mechs.

  She pictured Godzilla marching in from the river, her team in giant robots waiting to fight him, and laughed inwardly. “Okay, so everything suggests that the initial alert from ARES DC is correct, and there will be a move on the museum in the next two to five hours.”

  Tony refastened a piece of his own gear with the harsh tear of Velcro. “How did they come by this information all the way down there?”

  “Cyber wizard.”

  The pair looked confused, and Diana laughed. “Our data geeks prefer to be called cyber wizards, although the term is also used for those rare beings who can merge tech and magic into computer systems. In this case, it was cameras, basically. The Pittsburgh Police surveillance grid identified an increased street presence around the building. We've been piggybacking the feeds since we set this place up. It seemed random at first, but our computers picked up enough repetition to distinguish a pattern and alerted the techs. When they pulled other sources for closer examination, they caught some suspicious cell phone conversations—unencrypted, apparently, so very amateur—which led them to more people to watch. Ultimately, they had sufficient information to generate a rough timetable.”

  Cara tilted her head. “So, why don’t we have a better one?”

  Diana shrugged. “They switched to radio silence. It seems there are some smart bad guys in the mix, too.”

  Her agents both nodded. She knew they’d both had sufficient of their own experiences with criminals to be well aware that they lived on the same intelligence spectrum as everyone else.

  But a reminder never hurts.

  The other woman checked her watch. “The protest this evening is supposed to start about three hours from now. That seems like a convenient coincidence.”

  “No coincidences,” the troll interjected crisply.

  Diana nodded. “I’m with Rath. No coincidences. It’s too handy.”

  She stood, slipped the vest over her head, and secured the Velcro tabs at each side. They were the same models she’d last used in DC, slimmer than the SWAT versions and equipped with built-in anti-magic deflectors and electrical absorption. The front held two magazine holders for the rifles and a pair for the pistols, all made of non-conductive plastic to avoid interfering with the vest’s function. She had requested the addition of a Bowie knife sheath like Bryant’s. The weapon’s weight was comforting at her lower back. “I talked to the Warden on the way in. The Cube is on high alert, but she doesn’t think they’ll call for us.”

  Tony made another adjustment to his vest and shrugged to settle it properly. “She has the direct line for police support but said she didn’t need that either.” He shook his head in reluctant admiration. “SWAT snipers are already in position at the museum, but they can only cover front and back since the side streets are too narrow for long-gun deflection. The rest of the unit is posted about a block away in an unmarked truck, waiting for something to happen.”

  Cara drew her Glock from the shoulder rig she’d removed and placed it on the bench beside her. She slipped it into the hip holster on the utility belt that rode her hips. “We coordinated with local forces a lot in the Marshals, but we rarely used them, except as perimeter control during takedowns. Having them set to go in with us is strange.”

  Diana nodded. “When we’re at full strength, we'll probably choose to use our own teams and not local forces too, except as backup on the odd occasion. Until then, we need the extra firepower. SWAT will take point until serious magic shows up. Then, we’ll move into the lead. They’ll follow once we’ve cleared the way. At least, that’s the plan.”

  “And if there’s magic from the opening bell?” Tony asked

  She shrugged. “That’s why we get the big bucks.”

  Rath had been quietly putting on his own gear. He perked up at her words. “Rath needs big bucks. More Maxes.”

  They all laughed, and she shook her head. “No more, Rath. You can keep nagging, but I won’t change my mind.” She turned to the other humans in the room. “If he had his way, there would be an army of attack dogs with us.”

  Tony grinned. “Actually, that sounds like a good idea.”

  Cara nodded. “I agree. BCOM. Black-ops Canines of Magic. Maybe it’s time to think out the box.”

  Diana rolled her eyes. “Two things. First, you’re both traitors and deeply unhelpful. Second, no.” She rummaged in the tech locker and withdrew the special item she’d carried back from DC, then sat beside the troll. “Emerson sent you a present—something in addition to your standard gear.”

  He peered up at her with an eager grin. She extended the canister-covered bandolier and set it diagonally across his chest. It fit perfectly, naturally. Diana was convinced Kayleigh had surreptitiously scanned Rath from head to toe while they did the comm fittings. She then pulled out a pair of headphones for him that looked like ones a DJ might wear. The flexible strap that connected them was designed to expand if he changed to a larger size, so he wouldn’t lose contact. A microphone curved around the front. She positioned the unit on his head. “All good?”

  The troll gave her a double thumbs-up, and the sight was so unique that she broke into laughter again. “Top grenade is pepper, middle is sonic, bottom is flash-bang.” Rath nodded. Emerson had wanted to make the last one incendiary, but Diana had vetoed that idea. Maybe after he practiced for a while, she’d told the scientist.

  Maybe never is more like it.

  “So, here’s the plan. The four of us should stay together as long as possible. Ideally, we won’t have to split up. If we do, Rath and I will be a team, and you two will be the second one.” She reached into the top area of the tech cabinet, which was outfitted with a second lock. She released it with a fingerprint and a code and withdrew three carbine magazines marked with a bright blue stripe. “We each have a single magazine of anti-magic bullets, secured at great effort and expense.” And more than a little peril. “Don’t waste them but don’t be afraid to use them either. You all are worth the cost.”

  They snickered, and she grinned as she passed them out. She slotted hers into a chest holder on her vest. Tony and Cara had already donned their weapons. Diana
retrieved the other item in the small safe, counted out six Ruger rounds for each, and handed them over. She drew her revolver, cleared the standard bullets, and replaced them with the anti-magic versions. The discards went into the weapons cabinet.

  She slipped the backup gun into the off-center holster at the back of her belt. “Grenades as you want. Load ʼem up. But be sure to warn the rest of us when you throw them.” As the troll started to move, Diana said, “No more for you, Rath.” He grinned at her but didn’t appear at all apologetic. Instead, he looked fierce in his vest and utility belt with the batons ready in their holsters on each side. He had refused any additional armor, claiming it would reduce his agility. She couldn’t argue. The balance point between raw protection and gear weight low enough for mobility was different for everyone.

  Diana crossed to an unmarked crate against the far wall and opened it with the standard routine. SWAT-issue stun rifles bigger and blockier than their own carbines waited patiently for someone to use them. Each had a spare battery in a holder on the side of the stock. She handed one each to her team. “So, we’ll play by SWAT’s rules at the start. It’s our guess they’ll send the magicals forward and use humans as guards against us. If we can disable them without killing them, great.” She hefted the gun. “At the first sign that these don’t get the job done—” She paused and pointed at them. “And I do mean the first sign, ditch the stunners and go loud.”

  The others checked the new weapons in silence. The gravity of what they were about to undertake had quietly settled into the room. Cara seemed to take it more in stride than Tony, who wore an expression stuck somewhere between disbelief and concern. Rath didn’t seem bothered in the least. He merely flexed his hands like he wanted to feel his batons in them.

  Diana clapped and startled her team. “There’s been nothing to suggest they’ll do anything other than break in and head for the basement vault. That will continue to be our base assumption. If they do something unexpected, we’ll adjust as we go. One thing to remember is that even though they’re likely to have the numbers, their training shouldn’t be anywhere near SWAT’s level, much less ours. We should be able to eliminate the pawns without excessive trouble.”