Chapter One: The Easiest Takedown Ever

Author note: This story is the forty-eighth in the Magical Flashpoint series. It follows "Just Another Birthday".

Although all original characters belong to me, I do not own Flashpoint, Harry Potter, Narnia, or Merlin.

Blades whirred, the engine powering those blades humming away in the background. Through the front windscreen, a small, deserted island appeared out of the water and slowly grew larger as the craft approached it. The pilot glanced over at the copilot, confusion flashing across his face.

"We got LEOs out here?" he asked incredulously over the helicopter's intercom.

"Yeah," one of the backseaters called. "We got civilians out here, too."

Pilot and copilot traded skeptical looks…looks that vanished as they drew close enough to see a group of people on the island's shore, all of them dressed in archaic clothing and most of them gawping up at the helicopter approaching. The pilot tipped the chopper's nose farther forward, increasing speed now that he was sure they weren't on a wild goose chase, way out in the middle of nowhere.

There was a soft gasp from behind the two pilots and the distinct sound of someone grabbing hold of the rear cabin's brace bar; the pilot smirked to himself. So it was true…the negotiator rumored to be skilled enough to talk down a lit stick of dynamite was afraid of flying. The smirk grew wider as the helicopter's nose tipped even farther forward, even as he slowed down to begin the descent.

"Burgeo Tower, Ranger Two Eight Nine Alpha Uniform, we got 'em, over," he reported over the radio.

"Two Eight Nine Alpha Uniform, Burgeo Tower. Confirm evacuation numbers, over."

"Roger, Burgeo Tower. Looks like we got approximately seventy individuals requiring evac, over."

Silence hovered over the radio, but the pilot was unconcerned. It would take headquarters some time to figure out how to evacuate all the stranded civilians. He took the 'copter downwards, angling for a small strip of ground that jutted out into the water, a strip just large enough to serve as an impromptu landing pad. A grin crossed his face, one that was shared with his copilot at the relieved sigh that came from one of their passengers as they touched down.

Only two of the stranded civilians came over to the helicopter as the passengers disembarked. The eavesdropping pilot arched a curious brow as a blonde woman with more than a bit of gray in her bedraggled hair spoke to their aviophobic passenger, her voice both sorrowful and resigned.

"Looks like we're part of your world now, Sergeant."

136 hours earlier (6 days earlier)

The sound of the alarm cut through Team One's usual workout, bringing it to a screeching halt; the team scrambled out of the workout room and into their uniforms, donning bulletproof and equipment vests with record speed.

Greg Parker, who'd only just joined his team in the workout room after finishing his paperwork, was the first to Winnie's desk. "What do we got?" he asked, raising his voice to be heard over the alarm.

"10-90, bank robbery in progress, sir," Winnie reported, "Teller tripped the silent alarm."

"Copy that; address?"

"Sending it to your phones."

Good girl. The Sergeant gave his dispatcher a brisk nod and turned towards his team leader, arching a brow in question. "Wordy, Sam, and Lou've got the trucks," Ed informed his boss. "We're ready to roll."

"Okay, let's go keep the peace," Greg decided.

Cars fled to the side as three black trucks roared up the road, lights flashing and sirens wailing. Inside the second truck, Parker frowned as he inspected what little information they had thus far. "All right, team, our subjects are currently robbing a BMO Harris bank. Teller tripped the silent alarm, but Winnie hasn't found any 911 calls originating from the bank. Subjects likely do not know they've been made, so stealth approach."

"Kill the sirens," Sam muttered, nodding as Ed immediately snapped off the siren for their truck.

"And let's kill the lights two blocks from the bank," the Sergeant added.

"Copy," Lou acknowledged from his spot in the third truck.

"Spike, blueprints?"

The bomb tech's fingers flew on his laptop. "Bringing 'em up now, Sarge." Another few seconds of clicking produced the requested info. "Boss, it's a small bank, but they've got lots of safe deposit boxes, plus a vault."

"A nice plum for our subjects," Ed growled.

"Not as juicy as some," Spike agreed, "But not exactly lean pickings either." He glanced over the blueprints again. "Sarge, if they don't spot us, we can catch 'em in a pincer movement," he suggested. "Loading dock plus what looks like an employee entrance lets us in on both sides."

"Okay, let's do that," Ed decided. "Hit 'em hard, take them down before they can escalate."

"Sounds good to me," the Boss agreed. "End this before anyone gets hurt." While the Sergeant wasn't unwilling to negotiate, bank robberies usually only needed negotiation if something went wrong – translation: hostages were taken.

"Police! Hands in the air!"

"Strategic Response Unit! Weapons on the ground!"

"Hands! Lemme see your hands!"

"Don't move! Don't move!"

In a matter of seconds it was over; the robbers were all down and being cuffed – not even a single one had fought back or tried to run. They'd been taken completely off guard, just the way Team One liked it. The tellers and customers looked as if they appreciated the easy rescue just as much; some of the more impatient customers even started calculating the best way to leave without interrupting their busy days any more than they already had been.

But Sam smelled a rat. It had been easy; way too easy. He pulled his captive up and turned the man, inspecting him with a gimlet eye. He was fighting, but it was just weak tugging against the cuffs and – once he was standing – the subject kept trying to move away from Sam. It was as if Sam wasn't even there. As if the man's mind was so one-track that he couldn't comprehend he was in custody and not going anywhere. And his eyes – his eyes were blank, with no life or expression in them whatsoever.

"Boss, got a possible 10-96 (1) here," the sniper hissed.

"10-96?" Sarge questioned, his tone both surprised and skeptical. "Sam?"

Ed swept over, inspecting Sam's captive, then stilled as the blond quietly pointed to the man's eyes as well as the futile tugging from the subject. One brow hiked, then Ed directed his words to the subject. "Sir? What's your name?"

Sam's arrestee never twitched; he kept trying to move towards the bank vault, where he'd been working before Braddock had taken him down.

The team leader leaned in, waving his hand in front of the subject's face, close enough that the man should have jerked back, should've done something. But the man didn't react – and neither did his eyes. The two officers traded grim looks, both with the same conclusion – Imperius.

"10-96 confirmed, Boss," Ed decided, shifting back. "Guys, check all the subjects."

"Copy," rang out from their teammates, along with the sounds of each member of the team testing their captives with a simple question or two. Ed really didn't expect any of the subjects to pass – if one was Imperiused, then they all were.

Less than a minute later, Parker joined his two constables, his eyes narrowing as he observed the same things Sam and Ed had. The Sergeant turned, his expression going grim and fighting mad as every last one of the robbers failed to respond to any of Team One's prodding. One by one, his team looked up from their arrestees and shook their heads.

"All right, team," Parker growled, "Ideas?"

"Let one of 'em go," Lou suggested at once. "Follow him right back to the leader."

Ed nodded thoughtfully; nice, neat, they'd sweep their primary subject up before the idiot wizard even knew what hit him. The only fly in the ointment was…

"What about our witnesses?" Jules questioned, taking advantage of the fact that she and her captive were too far enough away from the former hostages to be overheard.

"Haul the subjects out of the bank before we let one go," Lou replied. "Some of us can stay here, make it look like we're cleaning up after the call."

"And the rest of us track the primary subject," Sam finished, a note of victory in his voice.

Ed considered Lou's hasty plan, saw Greg's eyes cut back to him in silent question. After a moment, the team leader nodded back; as long as they did it fast, Lou's plan could work. "Lou, Sam, make it happen," the bald sniper ordered. "Jules, Wordy, Spike, secure our other subjects and start the interviews. Sarge and I will call it in."

Another trade of looks and the Sergeant turned away, pulling out his cellphone to call Madame Locksley; the sooner they could get the subject wizard into Auror hands, the better. For his part, the team leader casually waited until his boss gave him a subtle signal to report in. "Winnie," he announced, raising his voice just enough to keep the comm from picking up the Boss's phone call, "situation contained: subjects in custody, no injuries to any of the hostages; we're going to interview all the witnesses before heading back to the barn."

"Sir?" Winnie's voice was puzzled; Team One didn't stick around and interview witnesses if a hot call was over – they left that to the unis.

"Just a couple oddities we need to clear up," Ed obliquely explained, "Sam and Lou are tracking that angle down now." While the sniper hated lying to Winnie, he knew the call was going to end up in Toth's hands – classifying a common, easily contained bank robbery wouldn't fly with the military psychologist. That meant Team One had to keep magic – or any hint thereof – out of the call.

Greg joined the conversation with nary a stumble. "Winnie, get a transport here for the subjects we've arrested and contact Detective Onasi; tell him our primary subject should be of interest in one of his ongoing investigations."

"Copy," Winnie acknowledged, catching onto what was going on at once. "Anything else?"

"Not for now, Winnie," the Sergeant replied. "Subjects didn't do much damage to the bank; I'd say they can open for business again once we finish the interviews."

"Yes, sir."

Fortunately, their Imperiused subject was too oblivious to realize he'd been handed a bag full of climbing gear. He cheerfully bobbed his head to his 'compatriots' and took off with the 'money', heading across the street without even checking for traffic. Several cars' tires screeched as they slid to a halt; the two watching cops cringed, but there were no accidents.

Lou took a step forward, but Sam tugged him back. "Let him get some distance," the sniper muttered.

"Copy," Lou muttered back, adjusting the volume on his comm down enough that he and Sam could talk without the transcript picking them up. With any luck, Toth wouldn't notice that neither he nor Sam were in the transcript during the 'interview' portion of the call. A risk, yes, but a necessary one.

Sam kept his eyes on the released subject; when the man reached the halfway point in the next block, he signaled Lou and waved him to the opposite side of the street. The pair hustled across and split, following their bait from both sides, close enough to pounce, but far enough away to keep their target from spooking. Hand signals flashed between the partners as they moved, weaving through pedestrian traffic after the Imperiused bank robber.

The man trotted along, his complete focus on his destination, with no regard for traffic signals, fellow pedestrians, car horns, or angry drivers. Lou cringed at the close calls and near accidents their bait left in his wake, regretting his suggestion more and more by the minute. Two blocks slipped away with no change in direction from the robber. As they reached a third intersection, the man hesitated an instant – the trailing cops stiffened, scanning for their real subject – but then plunged forward into the street.

A truck horn blared; Sam raced forward, cutting through the crowd with ease. He yanked their bait back off the road just before a semi roared past, the speed of its passing ruffling the men's hair. Wide blue eyes shifted to Lou's dark ones, both constables unnerved and ready to call their mission quits; catching the subject wizard wasn't worth a life.

How the Imperiused subject managed to squirm free, Sam wasn't quite sure, but the man fairly ran across the street, still oblivious to anything save his destination. Braddock and Young followed, determined to end the expedition before any one ended up dead. Then Sam jerked back and waved Lou forward, gesturing to where their bait stood at the head of an alley that led to a small, disused gateway.

A greasy, unkempt wizard slunk out of the shadows, avarice gleaming in small black eyes and on narrow features. Tattered robes hung from haggard shoulders and the man's movements were quick, jittery; the officers traded glances and readied their submachine guns – they knew a drug addict when they saw one. Their subject reached for the bag, anticipatory joy shining; the Imperiused bank robber stood there, a lax, content expression on his face.

"SRU!"

"Hands in the air!"

The wizard whipped towards the Aurors; yellow-green curses flew and the cops flung themselves sideways, dodging the beams. Sam lost his submachine gun as he rolled, ending up against the alley wall. Trapped, Braddock yanked his sidearm free, braced himself, and fired. His target was thrown back, slamming into the filthy bricks and sliding down to the ground. Lou scrambled to his feet and closed with their subject, harshly flipping him over and cuffing him. Still stunned by the rubber bullet, the wizard's struggles were feeble, his aggression curbed by his painful introduction to techie weapons.

Sam kept a tight grip on his weapon as he edged back to his feet, but Lou kept the subject pinned until his partner had regained his feet. At the alley head, the would-be robber stood, his expression still one of blank contentment. The constables traded resigned looks and secured the wizard, frisking him for any other weapons before Lou yanked him up and shoved him towards his victim. "Let's go," the dark-skinned Auror growled.

The wizard tossed them a half-indignant, half-resigned glare, but said nothing.

Primary subject secured, the two SRU cops hauled their catch – and their bait – back to the bank.

Auror Onasi quietly took the subject wizard into custody, letting his partner collect Team One's full report along with the call transcript. Roy flipped through the pages, then nodded to his brother before the SRU Aurors left to deal with another hot call. None of the techies noticed the somber expression on Onasi's face, nor the worried gleam in the depths of deep brown eyes.

[1] Police code for mental patient. Source is policecodes dot net slash ten-codes