Chapter 23: Rogue Chaos Unleashed
The morning air in the dilapidated apartment was sharp with the tang of ozone and the greasy residue of old takeout from the joint below, its neon sign buzzing faintly through the cracked window. The rhythmic clang of the nearby scrapyard pulsed like a heartbeat, setting a tense rhythm for the Peacemaker Team's stakeout. Jax Reed crouched beside an overturned crate, its sticky surface tacky against his forearms, a crude map of the industrial block spread before him. His tactical jacket was unzipped, revealing a faded t-shirt, and he twirled a penlight between his fingers, its cool metal a grounding ritual. "Gotham gloom matches my mood, but this stakeout's gonna test my patience," he thought, his sarcasm a shield against the focused caution gripping the room.
Emilia Harcourt, her blonde hair pulled tight, stood over the map, her cigarette unlit behind her ear, her posture radiating cynical efficiency. "The Butterfly remnants retreated here," she said, jabbing a finger at a circled warehouse. "Confirm the leadership's still active, and we call the raid team. Jax, Adebayo, you're on observation. No heroics, no rogue nonsense. Get it done." Her voice was a razor, slicing through the morning's quiet.
Jax flicked the penlight's beam across the map, smirking. "No heroics? You're killing my vibe, H. I'm the Anti-Hero of Observational Overkill. Got my lucky binoculars ready." "Sarcasm levels rising, but I'm not here to watch paint dry," he thought, his mind already on the system's interface, one cumulate charge pulsing with potential.
Leota Adebayo, perched on a rickety stool, adjusted her glasses, the lenses catching the dim light. "Thermal readings show a biomass spike in the central warehouse," she said, her voice measured but laced with concern. "Could be a base, could be a decoy like a refrigerated truck. We need certainty before the raid." Her lip-biting hesitation underscored her ethical anchor, a subtle challenge to Harcourt's aggression.
Harcourt sighed, her foot tapping sharply. "Amateurs ruin everything. Fine. We wait. For now." Her cigarette twitched in her fingers, a sign of her fraying patience.
Jax ignored the order to wait, his thrill-seeker instinct buzzing. "Waiting's for civilians. I need the Butterfly boss's location, and I need it now." The system's codex flickered in his mind, Mindstorm's entry glowing—a psychic wildcard with a high rogue risk. "Okay, H. When we move, I'll need a distraction. Something to make the guards look everywhere but the target. Call it a strategic feint." He masked his intent, knowing the 'distraction' was the main event.
[SYSTEM: CUMULATE AT 1.]
[NO POINTS ADDED.]
Harcourt's eyes narrowed, unconvinced. "We'll talk about your 'distraction' later, Jax." She stepped to the window, pulling out her cigarette, the lighter's click echoing. Adebayo shot Jax a worried glance, sensing his plan. Jax gave a subtle nod, an apology for the chaos to come, his finger hovering over the system's interface. "From chaos to mind-bending madness," he thought, bracing for the rogue summon.
Ten minutes later, the warehouse below was still, the scrapyard's clang a relentless metronome. Jax sat cross-legged in the corner, the floor gritty under his boots, his focus locked on the system. The air was thick with anticipation, ready to snap into panic. "System! Summon Mindstorm! Command: Psychic sabotage on the central command!" he whispered, targeting the base's leadership.
A wave of purple-black energy erupted, smelling of burnt sage and ozone, sharp enough to make Jax's nose twitch. Mindstorm materialized, a gaunt figure in tattered black, his eyes wild and unfocused, his hands clutching his temples. "Your mind's screaming—shut it!" he hissed, his voice a jagged rasp, his body twitching with erratic energy.
[SYSTEM: MINDSTORM (WILLPOWER 7).]
[WILLPOWER BREAK CHECK: 80% CHANCE OF ROGUE ACTION DUE TO MENTAL STRAIN AND VOLATILE COMMAND.]
[ROGUE ACTION TRIGGERED.]
[COMMAND: PSYCHIC SABOTAGE HIJACKED TO MASS HALLUCINATION: INTERNAL TRAUMA LOOP.]
Instead of targeting the warehouse, Mindstorm's psychic scream hit the apartment. Jax stumbled, a searing pain exploding behind his eyes. Visions of his old life—cubicle, billboard collapse, unfulfilled dreams—played in vivid, crushing detail. "From cubicle to chaos, and now back again," he thought, his knees buckling.
Harcourt dropped her cigarette, gasping, her hands clawing at her neck as visions of dead partners loomed, their eyes accusing. Adebayo choked on a cry, seeing Amanda Waller towering over her, sneering, "You'll never be good enough." Peacemaker froze, muttering about a weeping dove with a bloody chainsaw, his helmet clattering to the floor.
Jax fought the psychic onslaught, his willpower straining. "This is why I don't do psychics," he thought, gripping the crate's edge, its stickiness grounding him. Mindstorm's field shimmered, blocking physical contact. Peacemaker croaked, "Party mode? Is this… party mode?" His attempt at humor was desperate, a callback to Jax's earlier quip.
"It's the opposite of party mode!" Jax yelled, his voice raw. "Hold on! He's got minutes left! It'll pass!" He focused on the system's timer, its cold logic an anchor: 2:45… 1:30… 0:10…
The scream stopped, the haze vanishing. Mindstorm was gone. The team collapsed, sweating, Harcourt curled up, Adebayo weeping, Peacemaker staring blankly. Jax stood shakily, lighting a cigarette from Harcourt's pack, the smoke a bitter ritual. "Sarcasm levels rising, but that was hell," he thought.
[SYSTEM: ROGUE CONTAINMENT SUCCESSFUL (DURATION WAIT).]
[JAX REED GAINS +1 WILLPOWER.]
[SP GAINED: +20 SP (ROGUE MANAGEMENT BONUS).]
[CURRENT STATS: WILLPOWER 4.]
[CURRENT SP: 270.]
Harcourt uncurled, her eyes blazing. "What was that, Jax? That thing broke our minds! Explain, now!" Her voice was a dangerous hiss, her cigarette crushed underfoot.
The apartment reeked of burnt sage and fresh smoke, the air heavy with suspicion. Jax ran a hand through his hair, deflecting vaguely. "It was Mindstorm, a meta-human psychic. Vought experiment gone wrong. I needed a deep scan on the base, and he's… effective. Just unstable. The chaos hit everyone, not just them." "Blood's red paint, and I'm painting a lie," he thought.
Adebayo's voice cracked. "You saw my mother, Jax. That wasn't chaos—it was personal." Her glasses fogged, her empathy raw.
Peacemaker, recovering, tilted his helmet. "I saw a dove with a chainsaw. Messed up, but awesome. How do you find these guys? Mindstorm's in Vought files—locked up, dosed with 'compounds.' What's that about?" His intrigue cracked open a mystery, the compounds a dark thread.
Jax seized the diversion. "Vought's experiments broke him. Those compounds made him a psychic wrecking ball. He went party mode, but we got the scan." He forced a grin, dodging the truth.
Harcourt ground out her cigarette, her fury barely contained. "This isn't over, Jax. Pull another rogue stunt, and I'll end you." Her threat was real, her foot tapping sharply.
[SYSTEM: SUSPECT INTEGRITY: 40%.]
[TRUST FACTOR: UNSTABLE.]
[NEW DIRECTIVE: MAINTAIN COHERENCE.]
[CUMULATE RESETS.]
Jax yawned, stretching, the motion a deliberate calm. "Noted, H. No rogue tantrums until the next one. I'm grabbing coffee to plan the Alpha's mic drop." "From chaos to answers," he thought, the compounds and the shadowy tailer gnawing at him. The raid was next, and he needed to be ready.
[SYSTEM: RANDOM FLAVOR: MINDSTORM'S COMPOUNDS DETECTED.]
To supporting Me in Pateron .
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