Second Class Psychic Agent Sarah Johnson is a professional soldier, which means she has no choice in the Third British Empire. Not a good idea at least. Those who tested positive for psychic potential were given two options - join the military or undergo a lobotomy. This harsh stance is necessary because rogue telepaths can cause all kinds of trouble, so the government does everything it can to control them. If any psi-ops dare to abandon their station in pursuit of selfish motives, they will soon find their brains remotely scorched by the implant.
That being said, Agent Johnson doesn't view his position in a negative light. In fact, quite the opposite. It's a challenging job that keeps her physically and mentally active while offering countless benefits, the most notable of which is a generous salary. Yes, there's a risk of death on the mission, but Sarah finds it's a lot better than hanging on to a damn VR pod every day. Additionally, she maintains good relationships with both her colleagues and superiors, although she does feel that some of her colleagues are a little too aggressive. Finally, she uses her immense psychic powers to fight bad guys, and she can't imagine a more fulfilling lifestyle.
Of course, no matter how much this psychic woman loves her job, there are inevitably some aspects of it that she absolutely despises. One of the duties of a monitor is to sit in a dark room and stare at a bunch of computer screens all day. Observing suspects' movements remotely was an important part of her peacekeeping duties, but it was so boring that she wanted to slam her forehead against the table repeatedly. So it's completely understandable why her current assignment puts her in a bad mood.
This is not to say that she takes her active responsibilities lightly. If these were normal circumstances, she might be tempted to offload this daunting task to someone else. However, the theme of this round of monitoring missions is quite unique. This is the third category of cosmic entity that Agent Johnson and her team failed to contain weeks ago. For some unexplained reason, the creature took on human form and seemed to be trying to integrate itself into the big city of Dave-156. This puts Sarah's team in a difficult position, since the study subjects live mostly in ridiculously densely populated high-rise buildings. Direct confrontation is estimated to result in tens of thousands of civilian casualties and millions of pounds of property damage.
These losses are unacceptable to Her Majesty's paranormal expulsion agency. While they fully recognize the dangers of allowing a Level 3 aircraft to run wild, the undeniable fact is that it has yet to prove itself to be a direct threat to the population. At least, none serious enough to cause that level of collateral damage. As an SEA agent, Sarah Johnson was thoroughly trained in the concepts of appropriate force, so she understood where her superiors were coming from. At the same time, she has her own stake in this particular mess, as she feels it's her primary responsibility to let the Third Class into her reality, which makes her eager to do something about it.
For now, Johnson's team has been monitoring the mission. This allows commandos to respond immediately if a level three aircraft shows signs of "full C'thulu", in which case the level of "appropriate force" they can use will be significantly increased. However, the main goal of their mission is to gather information. They observe the subjects' movements and interactions with the goal of discerning their motivations, goals, or intentions. Doing so will allow their superiors and allies to develop a unique plan of action against that specific entity. In theory, such an effort would result in the expulsion of a three-stage missile with little collateral damage, but in practice, things never worked out that way.
However, while this was clearly a vital mission, Agent Johnson found himself wondering whether he should perform impact maintenance on his skull. It really doesn't do much, although she sees some cosmic entities she can't understand. The entire time was spent in the company of an obscure man named Joe Mulligan, who was said to be in some way fascinated by it. In addition, the third-level demons did not display any supernatural activities except for the ability to evoke a few minor anomalies. The thing seemed to be trying to maintain the integrity of its surroundings, which seemed very suspicious to Johnson.
Most worryingly, there is no indication of what the Observer's Malatrak is trying to achieve. Generally, it seeks to expand its influence, corrupt mortal minds, or distort reality to suit some unfathomable design. However, it doesn't do that. Instead, it chose to insert its consciousness into Butte
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D-4's virtual reality server. No other cosmic entity in the agency's records has attempted such a thing, let alone succeeded. This is unprecedented and potentially catastrophic. Agent Johnson quailed at the thought of a Level 3 agent having a direct connection to the minds of billions of people.
However, it did absolutely nothing to merit a response from Sarah's team. Both its real and virtual behaviors boil down to eating junk food it clearly doesn't need and consuming media it probably doesn't understand. According to the agency's cyber police unit, its other online activities mainly consisted of looking up seemingly random and irrelevant topics. On the surface, the only questionable thing it did was artificially inflate the bank accounts of its slaves. However, this only gives the guy two hundred pounds of weight, which is a pittance in the overall scheme of things. Not to mention the money was gone in a matter of hours.
All in all, if one didn't know any better, they would think that the Watcher Malatrak was just an interdimensional tourist, but Sarah refused to believe such a thing. She understood the tremendous damage capability that thing displayed. It has the power to turn most people into mindless slaves and destroy Butte overnight
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The D-4 economy could even destroy the whole damn planet with a miniature black hole. What does it choose to do with this terrifying power?
That's sitting in a damn bar and watching three losers getting sloppy.
"Ugh. This sucks."
The ginger-haired, green-eyed, freckled woman could do nothing but scream in frustration. She hates this. While a disaster was unfolding right in front of her, her hands were tied, somehow making her both painful and numb. The worst part was that the CIA had almost no intelligence on Watcher Mahrak. They hadn't even heard of it until they got word that the cult was calling. The nerds on base are no doubt still poring over old archives and banned books, but so far there's been no real reward. The only tidbit they found was a page printed on the report Agent Johnson was reading for the third time that day.
"Maraslak the Observer," she read aloud lazily. "No known aliases. No known links to other religious groups other than isolated cults. First recorded encounter dates back 150 years. Responsible for seven minor incidents involving bewitchment, disintegration, material manipulation and mental corruption. Demonstrated ability that would be considered Level 3. There are no known incidents of use of Level 1 or Level 2 entities as agents or subordinates. No known incidents of employment as agents or subordinates of Level 1 or Level 5 entities. .”
Details of the incidents mentioned are listed below. Some of them are over a century old, but overall, "small" is the best way to describe them. Their main concern is the damage and casualties caused by CIA agents in their efforts to dismantle the Star Gazing cult. None were allowed to develop into moderate events, i.e. involving supernatural beings and phenomena, resulting in significant loss of life. Johnson's mission was supposed to be like this, but the universe conspired to turn it into a physical manifestation event, also known within the CIA as the Major Incident.
"I guess that's the problem with these obscure guys," she sighed heavily. "We underestimated this mission because we thought it was just a small one...wait a minute..."
If this thing was truly unknown, how did the CIA thwart its plot a full seven times?
“World Health Assembly?!”
Sarah suddenly turned her attention back to the monitor, noticing a suspicious movement out of the corner of her eye. However, nothing could be seen. Surveillance video shows the target sitting motionless at the table while the three idiots continue to get drunk. At a glance, nothing had changed, but the fool wanted to make sure she didn't miss anything. As her hands moved rapidly over the holographic keyboard at her fingertips, she briefly turned her attention to the monitor next to her. After a while, she called up the recording from a few seconds ago, while still staring at the live broadcast. Neither showed any suspicious activity, nor did the psychic sensors register any unusual paranormal activity.
Everyone said it seemed like Agent Johnson's eyes were playing tricks on her. However, given the nature of the entities she was observing, she was unwilling to accept this worldly and irresponsible explanation. This wasn't the first time something like this had happened, and it only deepened her suspicions. So, she focused entirely on the live broadcast and even turned up the volume so she could better understand what was being discussed.
"No man! I'm telling you, Layla King has the best tits ever!" Benny insisted drunkenly.
Karen said: "Yes, they are busty, but Hayley Hazzard has a perfect figure."
"Man, you have your faulty opinions, which are welcome," Joe interjected. "Melinda Sparkle's is unparalleled."
Sarah was a little angry when she heard this topic being discussed. Just how ignorant and uncultured could these fools have become? Everyone knows that Amara Arrington won the Star Entertainment Association's Best Actress Award earlier that year, and for good reason. Those big breasts were scientifically designed to be universal - wait, no, that doesn't matter right now. The momentarily distracted soldier pushed those irrelevant thoughts away and refocused.
"You're saying that because Mags is here," Benny accused Joe.
"Ha! It seems!" Karen was overjoyed. "We all know Muggs isn't the kind of girl to worry about something like this."
"That's right," the girl agreed. "This boat is malleable and fully capable of taking on whatever look Joe finds most appealing."
"Damn it, Muggs," the fat dwarf cursed. "You don't have to pamper him so much."
"Yeah, yeah," Benny agreed readily. "I know you like your genetic pattern, but this dear friend is not worth it. He would probably be happy to hold your hand!"
"Is Benny Vanson telling the truth, Joe?" She turned to him.
The man was apparently oblivious to the conversation as he was concentrating what little willpower he had left to take another swig of beer.
"Huh? Sure, I guess?" He shrugged and raised the cup to his lips.
The smile on Maggie's face grew so wide that her eyes narrowed, turning her expression into one that was the perfect cross between naughty and sadistic. She moved her left hand to Joe's and suddenly wrapped her delicate fingers around his bony ones. The unexpected gesture caused the man to spit out part of his beer in surprise. His friends were completely confused by his behavior because they were sitting at the other end of the table and couldn't see what was going on underneath it. Due to the placement of the security cameras, Agent Johnson had a clear view of the entire process, although she had absolutely no idea what to make of this development.
However, that was all Team Three had done so far, so she didn't care too much about her ignorance.
"Good evening, AJ." A voice came from behind her.
Sarah immediately recognized it as belonging to one of her colleagues. The man was the unit's technology expert and was responsible for installing all the surveillance and tracking software she was using. In appearance, he is a muscular, dark-skinned man in his early thirties. He has a round, clean-shaven face and a typical military bob. He wore a combat uniform similar to Johnson's, with a white, gray and blue digital camouflage pattern. Name tags on his shoulder and left breast pocket identified him as Staff Sergeant Damien Bennett, although he was known by another name in the unit.
"Hey, Sparks," the elf replied, not looking away.
"How's that for our odd couple?" he asked as he walked across the dimly lit room.
"They attended a virtual concert and are now in a bar with some of Mulligan's acquaintances."
"Yeah. This is new. Any suspicious activity?"
"You mean, except for some indescribable thing with godlike powers walking around here, as if it owned the place?"
"Wow. Your sarcasm is so obvious, you must be tired. Here, I brought you something."
He handed her one of the two cups he was holding, both filled with steaming freshly brewed tea. Sarah accepted it, said a word of thanks, and immediately took a sip. The fragrant aroma invaded her nostrils as the fresh taste with a hint of honey hit her tongue. As she sipped the heavenly beverage, a wave of calm swept over her, and her tired eyelids dropped gracefully in appreciation. She really needed it, after all, they were under constant surveillance for almost the entire shift.
Then the happy moment was ruined when her half-closed, unfocused eyes caught yet another glimpse of strange movement on the monitor.
"Look, did you see that?!" she snapped.
"What are you looking at?!"
Her colleagues responded immediately, staring at the security footage around her, but, just like before, there was no evidence of any immediately suspicious activity.
"Yeah, I didn't see anything, AJ." He shrugged. "The recording also looks very clear."
"Damn it!" shouted the frustrated woman. "I swear this happens all the time." This is the fourth time in an hour!”
"What happened?"
"For a moment I lost focus and then I felt something flash across the monitor, but when I looked back - nothing!"
"Yeah. Are you sure you're okay? You've been doing this for seven hours straight."
"I am fine!"
The woman was banging her fist on the table as she spoke, and she immediately realized that she wasn't actually okay.
"Maybe you're right," she calmed. "Watching that stuff is exhausting."
"Are you sure there is no mental deception?"
"Psychic readings are well within normal limits." She pointed to the relevant screen.
"What about mental corruption?" I know you neurotics are sensitive to this kind of thing, so maybe your subconscious reacted badly to Maggie after listening to it all day. "
"Maggie?!" She gave him a stern look. "Seriously, Sparks?"
"Sorry, subject," he corrected himself half-heartedly. "Who cares what we call her?"
"It does. I do. The same goes for Level 3. Some of the interactions we've observed so far indicate that it takes names very seriously. Using any of them accidentally could let it know we're watching it, and something could go wrong." For some reason, it seemed particularly attached to that."
"Okay, that makes sense, but do you really think it can sense us from this high up?" We're in orbit, AJ. There are thousands of kilometers between us and it, not counting half the planet's rock and magma. "
Sarah had to admit that Sparks had a point. While Level 3 entities possess some formidable abilities, they are rather limited. Their effective range is usually a few hundred meters, perhaps up to a kilometer. Even if Mahratrak's title of "Observer" hinted at his extraordinary sensory abilities, there was no way they could have reached far enough to peer into their orbital command center. Not to mention, now that she thought about it, just a few minutes ago she had read its name out loud without thinking, and nothing had happened.
"You're right," she sighed. "Maybe I'm just tired and thinking too much."
"I hope so." He paused to take a sip of tea. "Our job requires a healthy dose of paranoia, though. I'm going to check the connection and make sure there's nothing interfering with it."
"Okay, that sounds good."
Sparks sat down at the table next to Sarah and began working on the computer console while Sarah followed the topic closely.
"Okay, I think I've found the problem," the technician announced after a few minutes. "There seems to be a routing issue on the planet side, with the bar's security signal occasionally experiencing delays. This may cause some frames to drop, which may be what catches your eye."
"Hmm. Shouldn't these things be in the recording?"
"Well, no. The encryption protocol we use doesn't - look, this is how it works. Trust me."
"Okay, I take your word for it."
She was relieved to learn that the root of the problem was a technical issue. The only reasonable explanation was early symptoms of mental decay, a far more terrifying prospect. Mental health aside, Agent Johnson's superiors would have her removed from the case. There was no telling when the CIA would send someone to replace her, let alone whether they would be able to take her place. Sarah doesn't like to draw attention to herself, but her telepathy and telekinesis abilities are both significantly above average. Because of this, her superiors assigned her to that special group instead of two or three groups. They were rare and valuable assets, so the CIA had to spread them as widely as possible.
"Then can you fix the signal?"
"It's done," Sparks said proudly.
"Great, thank you. Oh, and please write a detailed explanation of my report. You know how the Major loves to pick on details."
"Ha. That's a euphemism. But I'm going now. I still need to prepare a few things. It won't be until about..." He paused, squinting at one of his screens, "In twenty minutes Take over the duties of the squad leader. Can you stay on guard until then?"
"Yeah, no problem. Thanks for the tea, by the way. That was great."
"Yeah. The only problem is that it's so expensive. Just one box almost wiped out our tea budget for the month."
"Worth it, if you ask me."
Sarah continued to spy on the unspeakable monster and the three drunkards while enjoying her drink. Meanwhile, Sparks typed furiously on his keyboard. Strictly speaking, they would be able to perform their duties more easily if they used their own neural interface. This technology allows ordinary people like Joe to enter virtual reality and is a faster and more efficient way to control machines than manual input. However, given the affinity Mahratrak has shown for invading cyberspace, they believe it would be prudent to avoid connecting their brains into any type of network unless absolutely necessary.
So, for now, Agent Johnson has to live with the clicking of Sparks' holographic keyboard. She wasn't sure why he enabled the sound feature. Now that she thought about it, it might have been the audible feedback that helped him type faster. However, she kept her running quiet because she found it distracting and it was easy to lose focus on her duties as monitor. Her worries were temporarily alleviated, though, and she allowed herself a moment to rest and take a long sip of her delicious tea.
The pattern then repeats a fifth time.
While she was distracted, something strange seemed to flash on the monitor. The woman froze, cup pressed to her lips, green eyes wide, staring at the live broadcast from the bar. In the video, she sees "Maggie" slowly and deliberately getting up from "her" seat. None of the men at her table reacted to her sudden move, although one of them seemed to be actively talking to her. Even more disturbingly, she turns to face the camera, her bottomless eyes staring into it.
No, that's not the case. There was no doubt in Agent Johnson's mind that the Level 3 student was making eye contact with her through the screen, despite all logic pointing in the opposite direction. Then, slowly and gracefully, it raised a hand to its mouth. The index finger reached out and pressed against the thin, smiling lips, making a general gesture of silence, and then winked exaggeratedly. In the next picture, the girl-like thing suddenly returned to its original seat, chatting with Karen as if nothing happened.
Naturally, none of this appears in the surveillance video.
