Major Jack Dresden was not a nice person. Sitting in the cockpit of his repossessed Thor omnimech, with the pod system setup to his precise specifications to deal the maximum of heat damage, he also played the role of a person who wasn’t nice. In high school, he had been voted “most likely to see time in jail” at the prom. The other students had been wrong, mind you. Working corporate security for Pinkerton had meant a lot of his little indiscretions had been swept under the rug, while he could easily spend time doing what he liked most: setting things on fire.

His unit, Dresden’s Enforcers, had started as a single lance as part of Pinkerton’s larger security force. His methods and his efficiency soon saw him climbing in the ranks. He had reached the point where he was now commanding a reinforced battalion on Alyina to face off against some mercenaries. Those poor souls were currently working for a pirate queen, sorry, “High Syndic Marena”, some former Jade Falcon merchant. She had thought she could steal from Clan Jade Falcon with impunity when Malvina Hazen had an ironclad contract with Lloyd’s of New London. She also made the French car people mad, by busting their union in the local factories. Renault-Peugeot Automotive had sent a battalion to back up the Pinkerton on this one, as part of the corporate security agreement. Nasty situation in general, but contracts needed to be enforced.

Enforcement was Jack Dresden’s thing. Well, that and burning things. His entire unit was equipped with whatever form of incendiary weapons they could, mainly to scare Blake and the Founder out of people. Killing people was not the objective, most of the time, when the Pinkerton’s showed up, but to get whoever was illegally holding goods, scamming the insurance company or criminally trespassing to surrender. That was what Major Jack was really damn good at. He cranked up the old 20^th century hard rock in his cockpit as he was walking towards their objective, CJF4, a ‘mech construction plant. All the pilots in the battalion were hooked to his radio station, listening about some shack outside a town called La Grange and hot guitar riffs.

They crossed the security perimeter threshold as some alarms started ringing, telling the Major trouble was brewing. He adjusted his neuro-helmet, lit up another cigar and waited for his comms to chime. Come on, you idiots, tell me why you’re not running away, he thought to himself. A ping came in on the comms from a general frequency, and Jack flipped it open, not even lowering the volume of the music in his cockpit. “This is Major Albert Heidegger, of the Lone Wolves, working for the Alyina Mercantile Union. You are illegally penetrating a secure area and we are requesting you…”

“Listen up, Al,” Jack Dresden said, lowering the volume enough to be heard. “You’re the ones illegally occupying Clan Jade Falcon and Renault-Peugeot facilities. As per the contract Clan Jade Falcon signed with Lloyd’s of New London, you are to vacate the premises or me and my guys and gals will light you up like a Fourth of July celebration. Just so you know, that’s an old Terra holiday where they lit up a whole lot of firework.” Albert Heidegger scowled in the viewscreen, even though the top of his head was masked by his neuro-helmet. He took as menacing a look as possible and replied: “And who do you think you are? The Lone Wolves have voted we would stick with Marena, and that her ideas were good for the people of Alyina. They don’t want to work under the Falcons anymore.” Jack Dresden took a long drag on his cigar: “Name’s Jack Dresden. We’re Pinkerton’s special division, Dresden’s Enforcers. You probably heard of me, Bugsy. Or at least know our logo.”

A dancing jester on top of a burning city popped up on Heidegger’s view screen as Jack Dresden continued: “I’m giving you a way out. Stand down, and nobody gets hurt. Pinkerton is not in the business of violence, we’re in the business of enforcement and investigation. Nobody has to get hurt.” Albert Heidegger didn’t seem fazed. That is one gutsy old man, Jack thought. This won’t end well. “Bring it on, corporate dog,” the mercenary officer replied. Communication was cut.

“Alright, guys and gals,” the corporate Major started, “drop your socks and grab your throttles. Time to earn our pay.” ‘Mechs went from staying in formation to deploying based on their speed, weight class and designation. Chaparrals missile tanks parked themselves on top of hills, their Arrow IV batteries loaded with high-explosive and incendiary ammos. In the air, aerospace fighters started crisscrossing with missiles and lasers. Another rock song started blarring in the Thor’s cockpit, talking about Rockin’ in the Free World. The satellite uplink to the Allan Pinkerton was giving Jack Dresden some details as to the situation, with a reinforced lance coming up to meet with his. Maggie Tomlinson was following him in her Jinggau while the two Firestarters, one omni and one brand new Mirage II formed the rear guard. He didn’t need Kuu or Yue Jin to scout ahead in the lighter ‘mechs, he wanted the enemy to concentrate on him and Maggie’s machine with their ranged fire if possible.

The radio crackled, with Maggie’s 3-packs-a-day voice saying: “It’s the Fox Patrol, boss. Some minor ‘merc outfit working for the Lone Wolves.” Briefing had told him about that gang. All too eager to get into fights and prove they were great. Always tight-nit, bunch of kids that believed the power of friendship would win the day. Two light ‘mechs, a 275 mafiosi and two heavies, nothing super modern however. This could be trouble if they weren’t careful, so Jack Dresden pulled up the artillery guidance and looked at coordinates. “Chappie, talk to me,” he clicked his radio to the artillery channel. “You guys in position.” He was answered with an Aff. His artillery support was that crazy Hell’s Horses bondsman turned artillery commander. About the only guy who liked setting things on fire as much as Jack Dresden. The Major reminded himself how much he loved this job.

A lb-x autocannon shell flew past the Thor. Little Katie Ferraro’s Kit Fox, Jack said to himself, arming his plasma weapons. He pushed his machine to full speed to avoid the most of the enemy fire. No point in capturing a Kit Fox. Salvage value was pathetic, and nobody was buying those nowadays. He got down the line and started aiming, the two plasma cannons in his omnimech’s left arm letting out a whirring sound as they started reloading. A flash of light came from the targeted light ‘mech, indicating a clean shot. Maggie had engaged the Quickdraw, more plasma shots flying towards the 60 tons machine. Jack’s torso armor lit up on his paperdoll, showing damage from a large laser. That kid is good, but she choose the wrong person to fight.

Two more plasma cannon shot, with the right arm plasma rifle following up. Jack would run hot from this, but he was used to it. It was his job to run hot. The Kit Fox was slowing down, its heat-venting system overloaded from all the plasma foam sticking to its body. A Marauder popped out from behind a building, taking a shot at the Enforcers commander. An AC/5 burst hit him cleanly in the arm, but that did not slow Jack Dresden down, as he keyed the location of the Marauder to his artillery support while punching the jump jets on his machine into high gear.

50 meters… 60 meters… 90 meters… He looked at the reticle, then to his positional marker, letting out a torrent of flame from his stomach-mounted weapons towards Katie Ferraro’s Kit Fox. When he got where he wanted to be, he cut jump jets suddenly. What followed was a catastrophic crunching sound as the 70 tons OmniMech landed, without any grace, on top of the much smaller 30 tons machine. Well, I hit the cockpit. That’s a hell of a way to go, kid. Should have surrendered when you could. Guess “the power of friendship” didn’t save the day afterall.

An inferno Arrow IV landed square on the Marauder that was trying to hide behind a building again, its heat signature showing but the engine shutting down for a quick period. Two PPCs against a group armed with plasma weapons? And you keep shooting both? Who trained those idiots? The Locust had gone up in flame, caught in the crossfire of the two Firestarters. The Griffin was staying mobile, shooting carefully with its PPC and the 10-rack LRM on its shoulder. An orthodox Griffin, Jack noted. All the weapons on the same side.

Jack told Maggie to go and take care of the Marauder as he moved towards the Quickdraw, which was already showing as piping hot on his sensors. Major Dresden made sure to keep his machine cool enough to be able to maneuver quickly out of harms way if things got bad, as medium lasers started tearing through his armor. That particular model of Quickdraw ran cool thanks to smart number of double heat sinks, so in order to deal deal good damage, the pyromaniac needed to hit the machine hard, and multiple times. Dresden’s own heat indicator started getting in the yellow zone with repeated fire from his plasma weapons, the Quickdraw trying to stay out of range of the stomach-mounted flamers.

A secondary plasma discharge hit the Quickdraw in the back, courtesy of Private Coleman Mirage II. Has he dumped his LRM ammos, Dresden asked himself. Dump your ammo, kid. You’re gonna blow. The Quickdraw was moving much more sluggishly then it should ever do as Jack Dresden moved in for the kill. One more shot from the right arm’s plasma rifle of the Thor landed dead center on the 60 ton heavy ‘mech, which had an immediate spike of heat which didn’t come from the incendiary weapon. Hit the guy’s engine. Eject kid, eject. As if on cue, the ‘mechs head split open, releasing an ejection seat. At least one person is smart in that whole outfit.

“Hey boss,” the radio crackled with Maggie Thompson’s voice. “Marauder’s down. Cooked the guy to death. Have the clean it up, but that’s good salvage right there.” The Griffin had powered down, the pilot asking for mercy and to keep his machine. If he was any good, Pinkerton could maybe recruit him. Switching to command view, Dresden looked at the situation around CJF4. His men had engaged the Lone Wolves on a 15 kilometer stretch or so. Air superiority was not a guarantee yet, but another wing of fighters were coming to reinforce from orbit, as they no longer needed to protect the capital ship.

“Any eyes on Heidegger?” Dresden asked as his cockpit came down to a comfortable warm. “No sir,” replied one of his subordinate in a Javelin, using inferno missiles to set a Demolisher assault tank on fire. Now where is he? He can’t find this to be a good trade. Dresden had taken a bit more damage than he had wanted to fighting the Quickdraw, and the two Firestarters were not in the best shape either. Don’t think I will headhunt an assault ‘mech today.

A group of hovertanks were trying to blast past their force to get to the artillery line in the back. The Arrow IV would not be accurate enough to drop on them, but his little lance could make a difference. The Firestarters pushed to their top speed, followed by the two larger machines, taking shots at the highly mobile armored vehicles. It didn’t take much to destroy an hovertank when you used directed incendiary weapons, but the problem was always hitting them.

A J.Edgar hovertank weaved between plasma shots before it got clipped by a ER medium laser, damaging the skirt. The next plasma cannon shot hit it dead-on, burning the canopy as it was opening. You might have survived it if you didn’t try to abandon your vehicle. Who trained those guys? A larger Maxim started shooting SRMs at the Thor, stripping off more of the armor. Few more good hits like that and I might have to call it a day. It was Yue Jin’s Firestarer-O that finished off the Maxim, using the same maneuver his commander had used on the Katie Ferraro’s Kit Fox earlier, with the exact same burst of flames before crushing it under the much lighter medium ‘mech.

“Any eyes on Heidegger,” repeated Major Dresden, switching his targeting system to another vehicle trying to reach the chaparrals. “Oh yeah, I got him right here,” replied Clint O’Toulle, a captain in the 2^nd company piloting a Peacekeeper. 3 artillery missiles were flying towards his general position. Jack Dresden wasn’t sure if those were incendiaries or high explosive. Does O’Toulle have a TAGger in his unit? For the guided missiles? He couldn’t remember what he had assigned to 2^nd company after the last restructuring in the midst of this whole kerfuffle.

Another hovertank blew up, its gas tank catching fire from the infernal heat of a flamer. Air superiority was now a given. The Lone Wolves air wing had retreated in-land. The satellite generated map was given Dresden a look at just how much devastation they had brought on this day. He had lost a few good men and even more good machines. Salvage and active recruitment might have to refill the holes in his unit. “Hey, O’Toulle,” he burst on the radio. “Heidegger still alive?” It took a few seconds for the radio to answer: “Can’t be sure, boss. His ‘mech is on the floor, he didn’t eject. It’s powered down now.”

36 minutes after the beginning of the engagement, Major Heidegger announced the surrender of his Lone Wolves in a general broadcast. Damage to CJF4 had been kept to a minimum, outside of the surrounding buildings and hangars, as the original plan demanded. The Lone Wolves had suffered a 60% loss of materiel and personnel, including multiple officers (as we are supposed to do in those missions). Katie Ferraro’s Fox Patrol had been destroyed, same with command company of Hampton’s Hessens and Julian Ellison, commander of The Foul Tempered. Major Heidegger had been pulled out of his ‘mech with severe injuries and was offered to keep the rest of his unit if he agreed leave Alyina and return to Galatea. Not a perfect victory, but one for the ages, and one which would show the Jade Falcons that the corporate forces were not playing around anymore.

Return to Vengeance.