|
|
| Line 1: |
Line 1: |
| − | <div style="padding-right:6px; padding-left:6px; border: 6px Solid #C8C864; color:#fff; background-color:#19004B">
| + | {{delete}} |
| − | <div style="font-size:14px;color:#FFFFFF; ">
| + | |
| − | I took a deep breath of the warm, summer air. The sun had set hours ago, taking the sweltering heat with it. As far as stake-outs go, this was pretty nice. Or it was until my partner arrived.
| + | |
| − | | + | |
| − | Her costume looks like something out of a gothic fantasy novel. Black tights with mesmerizing pink patterns. The pointed shoulders and large hood complete the look. She slowly floats down to the rooftop I was perched on. “<font color="#C80096">I have cleared the western section of civilians. You seem to have made yourself comfortable, so I can only assume you already took care of your end.</font>” That condescending tone always grated on me. She's one of the most skilled telepaths I've ever met. But also the most arrogant, stuck-up, mean spirited person to ever don a--
| + | |
| − | | + | |
| − | Suddenly it dawns on me. “<font color="#C8C864">You...Just heard all of that. Didn't you?</font>”
| + | |
| − | | + | |
| − | She keeps her watchful eye on the streets below and responds without facing me. “<font color="#C80096">Obviously. You are as subtle as ever.</font>” She holds her hand out to me. “<font color="#C80096">Now take my powers and mask your mental signature before you ruin this operation.</font>”
| + | |
| − | | + | |
| − | I do as she says and try not to let my irritation show. The last thing I want is to give her the satisfaction. After that, I spend most of my time trying to keep my wandering mind in check. I could do without her snide comments about my mental discipline. But I really shouldn't let this distract me from the mission. I peer over the side of the rooftop and spot no less than a dozen PSI agents in their unmistakable patterned uniforms. They silently make their way down the alley, unaware of our presence.
| + | |
| − | | + | |
| − | That's when I hear her voice in my head. “<font color="#C80096">Here they come. I will subdue the lead group. You will pick off the rear four while I work. But do be quiet about it, I need to focus.</font>” Despite my best attempts to keep my mind secure, she still managed to get through like it was nothing. And assigning me to pick off the stragglers? She knows I'm nearly a match for her powers. I can't help but feel a pang of resentment.
| + | |
| − | | + | |
| − | It's the worst mistake I've made all night. That emotional impulse was all it took to betray my presence to the agents below. The sight of their faces turning upward in unison to stare at me is enough to send a familiar chill down my spine. It's the fear I feel every time I look my own mortality in the face. I have less than an instant to think about what I've just done. The unimaginable pressure of the entire squad of telepaths bears down on me and tries to crack my mind like an egg. My vision is already gone and I can barely stand. But right now I'm more worried about keeping them out of my head. It's not going to hold them for long. I smell something metallic and feel a tickle under my nose. Not a good sign. If I had the mental capacity to spare I'd be cursing out my partner for taking so long to help me.
| + | |
| − | | + | |
| − | Screams suddenly pierce through the ringing in my ears. I can barely make out what's going on, but the sound lifts the haze from my mind. With the agents so focused on breaking me, my partner caught them with their telepathic pants down. As my eyes adjust, I'm greeted with the unnerving sight of her standing over their prone forms. They try desperately to shield their eyes and ears from unseen horrors dancing in their minds.
| + | |
| − | | + | |
| − | Their attack left my head feeling numb. I can hardly think straight, but I've got to work through it. After wiping the blood from my nose I carefully levitate myself down from the rooftop. Not my most graceful landing, but it'll do. “<font color="#C8C864">That's enough, Psionix! They're beaten.</font>”
| + | |
| − | | + | |
| − | But she doesn't relent. One by one, the screams die out as the agents go limp on the pavement. “<font color="#C80096">You seem to be working under the delusion that I am some kind of heartless killer. I am severing their link to PSI. The process is painful, but ultimately the lesser evil.</font>” I didn't know she could do that. Maybe I was a little too quick to turn on her. “<font color="#C80096">Your tactic of throwing yourself to the lions was crude and clumsy. Yet I cannot deny it was an effective distraction.</font>” And there's the snark again, accompanied by one of her trademark, patronizing looks. So much for that.
| + | |
| − | | + | |
| − | She must have had a lot of confidence that we would succeed. The authorities arrive mere moments after she's done with the PSI agents. As I watch them being escorted away, one of the agents meets my gaze. He's a sandy-haired man who looks in his thirties. He has the telltale look that I've seen plenty of times before on mind control victims. I wonder how long he's been under their influence. He stares at me as if pleading for help or even just an explanation. I turn to my partner. “<font color="#C8C864">What will happen to them now that they're free?</font>”
| + | |
| − | | + | |
| − | She coldly watches them being loaded onto the prisoner transport. Not a spark of sympathy in her eyes. “<font color="#C80096">They will face trial for their criminal activity. From what I saw in their minds, most of them were convicted felons before joining PSI. The jury will decide if mind control absolves them of punishment.</font>”
| + | |
| − | | + | |
| − | “<font color="#C8C864">What about the ones who were innocent? Can we really put them in jail for being mind con-...trol.</font>” The peripherals of my vision are getting blurry. Must be the onset of a headache. I always get one when I go up against telepaths. I knew this was coming. But why don't I feel any pain? Something's wrong. The ground starts to sway like a wooden labyrinth toy. In a daze I stumble around, reaching out and calling for help. But no one seems to notice. Not even my partner standing next to me. Everything goes black before I hit the ground.
| + | |
| − | | + | |
| − | <b>...</b>
| + | |
| − | | + | |
| − | My vision was slow to return. But even so, I could already tell I wasn't on the streets anymore.
| + | |
| − | | + | |
| − | “<font color="#FF6464">Psion?</font>” The sandy-haired man from before stands over me and offers his hand to help me up. “<font color="#FF6464">Are you alright?</font>”
| + | |
| − | | + | |
| − | I groan and try to piece together the events that just transpired as he pulls me to my feet. The interior of the apartment was familiar to me, and yet somehow I could tell that a second ago I wouldn't have recognized it. “<font color="#C8C864">Where-...What happened?</font>”
| + | |
| − | | + | |
| − | He steadies me from falling over. “<font color="#FF6464">I thought perhaps the memory of our first meeting would be distracting enough and yet not as traumatic as some of your other memories.</font>” Most people would get angry at the mere suggestion that their mind has been compromised. I can see that realization appear on his face. “<font color="#FF6464">Nuh-Not that I've been looking, of course! I realize you have a secret identity for a reason. It was just the first idea that came to me-</font>”
| + | |
| − | | + | |
| − | I simply raise my hand to stop his nervous rambling. “<font color="#C8C864">You trapped me in one of my memories?</font>”
| + | |
| − | | + | |
| − | Just like that I've put a sheepish look on the grown man. “<font color="#FF6464">Right, yes...That is, I think so.</font>”
| + | |
| − | | + | |
| − | My pride definitely took a hit. This was the first time our training session ended with me unconscious instead of him. But his progress is very encouraging and it shows in my smile. “<font color="#C8C864">I think you're ready for the next level, Peter.</font>”
| + | |
