Chapter 14: Stakeout Gone Wrong
The textile factory loomed in Evergreen's industrial district, its sagging roof and shattered windows swallowed by the moonless night. The A.R.G.U.S. surveillance van, parked three blocks away, was a claustrophobic box of stale air, reeking of Harcourt's cigarette smoke and the faint, bitter tang of burnt coffee from a thermos. Jax perched on a wobbly stool, his binoculars pressed to his face, the cold plastic digging into his cheekbones. His tactical jacket was unzipped, revealing a faded t-shirt, and he twirled his knife in a steady rhythm, the blade's glint a focal point against the rising tension. The van's dashboard glowed faintly, casting shadows on the map spread across it, its edges curling from use. Harcourt's cigarette smoke curled upward, her foot tapping an impatient beat on the floor, the sound a sharp counterpoint to the van's low engine hum.
"Standard Remnant scout cell," Harcourt said, her voice a blade of cynicism as she jabbed the map with a nicotine-stained finger. "We get eyes, confirm numbers, wait for backup. Do not engage. Amateurs ruin everything. You, don't screw this up."
Jax lowered the binoculars, his smirk defiant. "Got it. Stealth mode. I'm thinking ninja, but with more sarcasm. Party mode glitch?" His dark humor fell flat, and he caught Harcourt's icy glare, pausing his knife-twirling to lean back, his boots scuffing the van's gritty floor. "Gotham gloom's got nothing on this van's vibe," he thought, the tension coiling in his chest.
Adebayo, adjusting her glasses, frowned at the map, her voice measured. "If it escalates, stick to the perimeter. We're not equipped for high-tier conflict yet. Think first, people."
Harcourt's eyes narrowed, her cigarette glowing as she exhaled a plume of smoke. "And you, Reed. Your 'allies' last time caused a minor flood that required half of A.R.G.U.S.'s disaster relief budget. Keep your little circus in the box. One summon limit, and keep it low-key."
[SYSTEM: QUEST ALERT.]
[SURVEIL REMNANT CELL.]
[CUMULATE SUMMONS: 1.]
[OBJECTIVE: GATHER INTEL.]
Jax's fingers brushed the grit under his nails, a tactile anchor as he peered through the binoculars' green-tinged lenses. Five figures moved in the factory's shadows, their gear heavier than expected—medium danger. Their movements were coordinated, not the sloppy chaos of scouts. "This is no recon. It's a setup," he thought, his pulse quickening as the system's hum grew louder.
[SYSTEM: DANGER LEVEL: MEDIUM.]
[SUMMON PROTOCOL INITIATED.]
[CUMULATE AT 1.]
He needed a non-physical distraction to scatter the Remnants without a brawl. "Harcourt, I'm going psychic. One summon, quick sabotage. Cover me if it spikes." He tapped the system, the power surging like a heartbeat.
[SYSTEM: SUMMONING INITIATED.]
[TARGET: MINDSTORM (PSYCHIC ECHO).]
[COMMAND: PSYCHIC SABOTAGE (CONFUSE TARGETS).]
[DURATION: 5 SECONDS.]
A sickly yellow flash bloomed, visible only to Jax, and Mindstorm materialized near the factory entrance, his pale frame hunched, his eyes wild with torment. The air turned heavy with the sterile stench of hospital corridors, his presence a psychic wound that prickled Jax's skin. Mindstorm's hands twitched, his fingers clawing at his ears, his expression fractured.
"I hear everything," Mindstorm whispered, his voice a broken rasp. "Vought fall… The agenda lapse… Chaos in your head! Your thoughts betray you!"
Before Jax could refine the command, Mindstorm's power spiraled, lashing out at the van. Harcourt dropped her binoculars, her face ashen as she stared at the dash, seeing ghosts of fallen teammates, their eyes accusing. Peacemaker, in the driver's seat, shouted at an imaginary father, his voice raw with pain. Adebayo gasped, clutching her chest, her vision filled with sterile blue walls, her mother's voice echoing. Jax's head throbbed, a psychic migraine pinning him to the stool as guilt and fear flooded his mind—memories of his old life, his transmigration, the weight of borrowed power. "Five seconds. Hold it together," he thought, gripping his knife, the cold steel anchoring him.
[SYSTEM: MINDSTORM WILLPOWER BREAK: 75%.]
[ROGUE ACTION: INDISCRIMINATE PSYCHIC ATTACK.]
[DURATION: 5 SECONDS REMAINING.]
The Remnants scattered, confused by the psychic wave, their gear clattering as they fled. Mindstorm vanished with a snap, leaving static electricity and a ringing silence. Jax slumped, sweat beading on his forehead, the psychic drain a heavy weight in his limbs. The van was a mess, Harcourt's cigarette smoldering on the floor, Peacemaker's gum stuck to the dashboard, Adebayo's glasses askew.
[SYSTEM: SUMMON USED: MINDSTORM.]
[WILLPOWER +1 (ECHO OF MINDSTORM'S INTENSITY).]
[+20 SP ADDED (ROGUE MANAGEMENT).]
[CURRENT STATS: STRENGTH 3, AGILITY 4, CONSTITUTION 2, WILLPOWER 3.]
[CURRENT SP: 170.]
[SUMMON COUNT: 8.]
The team stumbled out of the van, the night air crisp and clean, a stark contrast to the smoky haze inside. Harcourt lit a new cigarette, her hands trembling, her foot tapping furiously on the asphalt. "Report, Reed. That… thing was not an A.R.G.U.S. asset. And the psychic backlash was severe. My team saw things. They demand answers. I demand answers. Get it done, now." Her voice was raw, her eyes avoiding his, fixed on the cigarette's glowing tip.
Adebayo adjusted her glasses, her voice steady but probing. "It was like a focused neural spike. We need to know where it came from. This isn't just about 'vigilantes.' This is a Vought-grade power."
Jax ran a hand through his hair, his smirk forced as he leaned against the van, its cold metal grounding him. "Look, I got nothing. Sometimes when the threat level spikes, weird things happen. Maybe it was the Remnants' final agenda lapse, a desperation move. Like a panic button that screams 'Your mom hates you' into everyone's brain." "They can't know about the system. Not yet," he thought, deflecting with a shrug.
Harcourt's eyes were ice, her skepticism rising. "You contained it by doing nothing." She crossed her arms, her cigarette smoke curling like a barrier. "Trust is overrated, prove me wrong."
Peacemaker, chewing gum loudly, grinned, his tank top stretched tight. "Party mode glitch? Dude, that was nuts. I saw my dad telling me I was adopted by an eagle. Totally messed up. But hey, it made the bad guys scatter. You got more of those? Is that like your 'psychic tech upgrade'?"
Jax forced a laugh, his fatigue showing as he cracked his knuckles, a small ritual to shake off the tension. "Yeah. It's classified, sorry. Just another perk of being a disaster magnet." "Peacemaker's too curious, Harcourt's too sharp. Gotta keep this tight," he thought, his smirk fading.
Harcourt exhaled, her voice brittle. "Fine. We're done here. File the mission failure report. This is getting out of hand. Everyone go burn off the adrenaline. I need you focused tomorrow. Or maybe just drunk. Peacemaker, get the safehouse ready. We need a night off, or someone's going to accidentally shoot Eagly."
[SYSTEM: CUMULATE RESETS TO 0.]
[NEXT SUMMON AVAILABLE: TOMORROW.]
Jax nodded, the team's suspicion a heavy weight. "Copy that. Movie night sounds like a decent antidote to a psychic colonoscopy." Mindstorm's "Vought fall" and "agenda lapse" echoed in his mind, a cryptic warning that pulled him toward the next mission.
[SYSTEM: RANDOM FLAVOR: AGENDA LAPSE DETECTED.]
To supporting Me in Pateron .
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