Per 
hello world
"Hello?" A voice called in an urging tone. "Anyone out there? Fuck, is this thing even working?"
The sudden burst of transmission startled her. She stood from her seat and rushed towards the console set against the wall of the armored trailer truck and slammed the blinking red button and spoke near the bendable microphone with a rush of anticipation.
"This is Response Tactical Unit Alpha-3 Commander Rachel Wheeler, identify yourself now!" She reached towards the blinds of the window in front of her and widened it with her gloved fingers. Beyond, she could see the domed structure that is Outpost Oscar-12, a low-risk anomalous items warehouse in the middle of nowhere somewhere near Niagra.
The small building was flanked on both sides by thick forestry, planted by the Engineering Division to give the structure some camouflage from prying eyes. Currently, the building looked peaceful; no signs of conflict were found, and based on the reports of the other scouting members of RTU Alpha-3, no sound of it was heard either.
"This is Junior Researcher Calvin McAdams," the voice paused. "Listen, we're surrounded. No, I mean trapped! We're trapped!"
Rachel gestured in the air; one of her subordinates already understood what it meant and fetched her the outpost's item manifest attached in a red clipboard. She scanned it with a skim and frowned.
"McAdams, I am currently reading the manifest of your outpost's inventory. I see no dangerous items or entities stored in there. Can you elaborate on what trapped you there? What's going on over there?"
"You're not listening!" A wash of static enveloped his voice to the point of unintelligibility. Rachel was about to ask if he was still there when McAdams came back with a reply. "We're not talking about 'it'. We're talking about 'who'!"
Rachel frowned. True enough, the place where the entrance should be was sealed with a blast door, same with the windows. Although the security feature was not necessary for an outpost like Oscar-12 due to the low-risk anomalous items it stored, it was still added in case some desperate group-of-interest attacked it for some stupid reason.
And never does Rachel thought that the blast doors will be used against the personnel of the Foundation.
"Can you at least give me a description of the trespasser?" Rachel asked.
"No, his appearance was distorted. I don't know how the fuck could he do it. I think he's fucking with our minds! I could hear voices." McAdams replied. Gunfire was heard in the background, followed by a distressed screaming. "Listen, send help right now! We need help! The automated security's being used against us—?!"
"Calvin?" Rachel asked. "Calvin? Respond to me, dammit!" She looked at her subordinates with a worried look on her face. "Shit, I think Oscar-12 was hijacked by a psychic, grade unknown." She walked away from the console. "None of us will be able to stand toe-to-toe with one."
"The situation sounded urgent, commander." Her second-in-command, Potter, said. "I don't think it could wait."
"Yeah, I guess we're stuck with MTF Omega-20 for now." Rachel said. "Unfortunately, they're pretty much undermanned because of their rotational shift to other Sites. But I guess that's also a good thing."
"The freaks?" Another RTU Alpha-3 operator asked. "Why?"
"I wouldn't call them freaks if I were you." Rachel barked at him. "I don't think the other MTF units in Site-56 could handle this situation. Omega-20's all we got." She approached the console again. "Command, this is RTU Alpha-03 team leader. We've got a Type-Purple hostile takeover situation at Outpost Oscar-12. We need assistance, specifically from MTF Omega-12, over."
Agent Dante Pearce was quiet along the trip. The only sound he could hear was the collision of bullets inside his magazines and the leaking thoughts of the driver in front. He could not help but sympathize with him every time his mind went to the bills of his house and his strained relationship with his shopaholic wife.
Dante couldn't help but ask if the Foundation paid its people enough salary or the driver just had a poor taste in finding women. He blocked out the man's thoughts and closed his eyes.
"Estimated time of arrival, a minute and a half." The voice of the team leader, Captain Michael Conoe, notified the team. "Engage your collars and prepare for combat."
Dante reached for the switch of his Psionic Amplifier Collar located on the right side of the device. The small circular indicator lit up in green shortly. He felt a slight tingling sensation both in his forehead and the back of his head. He let out a deep sigh as the vehicle shuddered when it ran over a rock.
It slowly ground to a halt.
Without a word, they disembarked from the unmarked van in a swift disciplined manner and lined up in a single file. Captain Conoe gestured in the air and the team advanced towards the outpost, moving past the armored trailer trucks where the elements of Response Tactical Team Alpha-03 were encamped.
They approached the entrance first, which was barricaded by a blast door in red paint. The windows above it were also sealed by the same material, meaning no way inside.
It forced them to go with Plan B.
Captain Conoe led the team to the western side of the structure and halted as soon as they were in the middle. He genuflected with his weapon raised ahead while the agent in the rear of the file faced the opposite direction, genuflected, and aimed.
The second man in the team, Dante, knelt at the grated ventilation duct behind Captain Conoe. He extracted his handheld personal torch from one of his belt pouches and started cutting through. After a few minutes, a hole was made and Dante wormed his way through the dark shaft while the rest of his team waited for his signal to follow.
He navigated the shaft with the blueprints of the structure in mind. The Foundation architects and engineers responsible for the construction of Outpost Oscar-12 had made the ventilation shaft large enough for people to fit in should situations like these arises. It turns out, they weren't wrong.
Dante saw lights from the corner of his vision, seeping through another grated covering. He stopped beside it and took a second to probe his surroundings for any living being. For a Grade-2 psionic operative, detecting human minds, telepathic or not, both have their perks and downsides. The latter being disturbing enough if he happened to be beside psychopathic telepaths and the former was the fact that he could apply it in operations like these.
He cut through the covering and made a hole. Slowly, he crawled out into what appeared to be Oscar-12's garage and passed a telepathic message to his companions. It took a minute for the rest of Omega-20 to complete their intrusion.
The garage was large enough to house the three six-wheeler trucks parked nearby, all of which containing symbols of commercial products to hide their true purpose. The six military jeeps painted in green could be seen parked on the opposite lane, currently in use by Outpost Oscar-12's security detail to patrol the vicinity of the structure and the paths leading to it. The tire marks on the ground were telltale signs of recent activity here, until the takeover.
The team moved again with Captain Conoe in front. The ceiling turret of the garage was suddenly triggered and the team was not expecting it since it was an automaton, not a living being. When it extended its turrets at the advancing team, it opened fire. Conoe immediately formed a telepathic defense around his team, causing his PA collar's indicator to flash red due to the impromptu action and beeped in an alert. The bullets narrowly missed them and never hit their marks.
The team, except Conoe, returned fire at the ceiling turret. It sparked before imploding. Its guts hung loosely in the ceiling, revealing burnt circuitry and severed wires. Even the turrets limped motionless, like a dislocated arm.
The team moved on, following the path that led to the garage's security checkpoint. The door of the tiny guardhouse was wide open with a trail of blood that could be seen on the ground leading towards inside. In front of the boom gate beside the guardhouse was a Toyota Corolla with a dented bumper and perforated windshield.
"A standoff." Captain Michael Conoe said. No response from his subordinates. He approached the boom gate and pressed the tiny button on the boom gate's cabinet, raising it after he does so. The team entered the threshold of the lobby's entrance.
They haven't even entered the lobby yet when another ceiling turret activated. Dante found a row of chairs to the side made for the visitors of the outpost and pulled him behind it. The rest of the team followed them as the turrets began spitting out lead.
Before Dante could contribute his firepower against the ceiling turret, the wall opposite him suddenly parted open and extended a tube-like barrel. Its inside glowed in red. Dante aimed and fired at the newly perceived threat. It exploded right after the ceiling turret was neutralized. However, his team wasn't finished firing yet and he realized that they are also fighting the same enemy, only located at the wall across them.
By the team he peeked over the seat, it was already burning.
"Just as expected, the enemies have taken over the facility's security system." Captain Michael Conoe said telepathically, in case the opposing force was listening through the many speakers hidden in the room. "Time to enact Plan C."
The team immediately moved towards the elevator at the back of the lobby, which was flanked by a pair of staircases, one that would lead up to the second and third floor and the other, the basement. Dante took his time to examine his surroundings. The floor was tiled in light blue, matching the color of the walls. The soft-cushioned chairs to the right, facing the receptionist desk, were now perforated with bullet holes due to the encounter earlier.
He also noticed a pile of bodies in lab coats, bathing in a pool of blood. Currently, it was none of their concern at the moment.
The team stopped before the elevator. Three agents broke from the five-man team: Olga Papaskiri, Franco Escoffier, and Park Dong-Hyun. They took the staircase that will lead them down below the basement while Captain Conoe and Dante were left behind.
Dante approached the key panel of the elevator and pretended to tinker with it using his and knife and handheld torch. Captain Conoe genuflected behind him, watching over his back. He knows that the bastard was watching them behind those two closed-circuit cameras above them. Hopefully, he wouldn't discover what their plan was.
The power in the entire facility was suddenly deactivated, engulfing the outpost in darkness. Emergency lights began to activate in a limited time, as well as humid ventilation in the rooms to prevent anyone from dying from a heat stroke. Conoe grinned as he felt the other half of the team returning up.
"The bastard's sealed in. There's no way he can escape now." Conoe said, still telepathically.
"Glad that this facility doesn't store anything that requires electrical power in its containment," Park said as the team ascended the staircase to the third floor.
"We would have taken other course of action if that was the case," Conoe replied, their steps reverberating across.
As soon as they reached the third floor, they immediately took the direction that will lead them to the facility's security control room. The hallway grew bloodier with every step they took, with bloodied handprints and footprints. Dante slowed down and fought the echoes of the dead as they screamed for justice. He saw flashes of the dead's final memories before they fade away.
"Self-inflicted wounds." Dante thought out loud. He could feel his companions agreeing quietly. "What made them do this?"
"The briefing mentioned that this was a Type-Purple takeover." Captain Conoe said as they neared the room. They heard banging from the door—an indication of desperation as the man contained within was trying to get out. "Fucker's almost laughable."
"I'll brute-force our way in," Olga said as she approached the access panel near the security control room's door. "Get in position."
They did what she suggested, with Conoe being in the center, Dante on the captain's right, Park standing at the left side, and Escoffier watching their backs. Olga pried the casing of the access panel with her knife and cut a few wires within. The emergency light near them suddenly went dark but when she reconnected a severed wire with the other, the door suddenly lit up and opened.
The three impressed their telepathic might on the man behind the door. The indicator on their PA collars went from green to orange. The man raised a gloved hand and tried to influence one of them to go on a killing spree, but their influence on him was much stronger that all he could do was to fall on his knees and cup both his ears. Behind his mask, his nose bled profusely.
The pressure building up in the man's cranium was too much to bear. It felt like a migraine that would soon evolve to a stroke if it goes any longer. Abruptly, the pressure was heightened to a tolerable degree, but he felt a boot launched against his chest, forcing him to lie flat on the ground.
His last view of the world Captain Conoe's rifle stock descending on his face.
Sometime later…
"So," Chief Security Officer Antonov began as he stared at the masked man across him. As security protocol suggested due to his apparent anomalous properties, the man's affectations were not removed from him. He was restrained with a chain constructed from telekill alloy. From Antonov's point of view, he could see the slight movements of the man, indicating that he was testing it discretely. "You want this the easy way or the hard way?"
"What choice do I have?" The man asked. His facial expression was obscured because of his mask.
"Depends on you," Antonov said as he observed the man before him. "If you chose the latter, my buddy here wouldn't mind using his expertise that he learn from Iraq. But if you want the former, well, you can just simply tell me everything from the start, especially why you did it."
"Have you ever felt existing, while at the same time, you're not?" The man asked without much enthusiasm in his voice.
"What do you mean?" Antonov asked with a frown.
"You have a body, but only in a short period if you are triggered." The man exhaled loudly and shifted in his seat.
"Go on."
"I-I can't take it anymore. I feel bad." The captive said with a defeated sigh.
"For what you did back there—"
"For the owner of this body." The man replied without hesitation. "The things that I made his body do, it was horrible.
"Pardon?"
"It was like driving a vehicle, but both of you were holding the wheel. I'm pretty sure he was awake at some parts of it, but mostly, he's asleep."
"Okay, but that doesn't answer my question." Antonov glanced at the polarized glass at the side before he returned his gaze at the man in front of him. He was unsure if the man was stalling for time by making stories or something, but the sincerity in his voice convinced the Chief Security Officer that the man was repentant.
"I needed help, and I know that the Foundation is the only one who could help me." The man looked down at the table.
"How'd you found out the Foundation?" Antonov replied.
"Let's just say that I have my ways. We've fought the Gockies before—it was a misencounter, we didn't mean to fight them."
"But it seems like you never had problems eliminating Foundation personnel." Antonov leaned closer.
"I wouldn't care any less, to be honest."
"I think you should—"
"We are engaged against the rebels of our race. They, too, have arrived here and we have to deal with them before shit hits the fan." The man interjected. He leaned closer, the chains around his body made a noise.
"Can you elaborate more on that?"
"It's pointless." The man leaned back in his chair and looked up at the ceiling.
"Try me."
When he realized that he wasn't going anywhere and the Chief Security Officer had too much time to spend with, he finally replied. "Usual rebellion stuff. Earth just happened to be our unlucky battlefield."
"And why does it concerns us?"
"I need you to stop us. I need you to—?!" The man halted mid-speech. His head began to shake violently, urging Antonov to stand from his seat. Before he could call any medical personnel, the man's head steadied.
"Hey, are you alright?" Antonov asked with a concerned tone. The man fixated his eyes on him.
"I know he will rat us out in the future. I have foreseen it." The man said, but with a very different tone. It sounded monstrous.
"Listen, whoever you are, we will stop you."
"Will you? Let's see about that."
At the sound of the concluding sentence, the man's eyes glowed in red. Antonov's hand went to the holstered gun on his hip. He stood up, flipping the chair he was sitting on in the process. The security detail beside him was ready to draw as well when the man screamed and convulsed erratically.
"Shit, security!" Antonov yelled as he went to the window. "The captive is exhibiting anomalous property!"
After a few seconds, the scream stopped and the man became steady. A few ragged breaths later, he glanced at the men present with innocent eyes.
"W-where am I? Who are you, people?" He asked.
"You're not tricking me like that, you bastard!" Antonov pulled out his gun and aimed at him. "What are you trying to do?!"
"Chief," a voice shrouded in static spoke, issued from the hidden speaker in the room. "Prepare to vacate the room. I need a word with you."
Antonov let out a few exhalations before sheathing his gun. "Consider yourself lucky."
He and his companion walked out of the room and into a narrow corridor where a trio of men in telekill PPE suits stood in wait, holding measuring equipment. They cautiously approached Antonov and examined him; after that, his companion came next until they are cleared to leave. The officer and his subordinate walked out of the corridor and into an intersecting hallway.
"What was that?" He glanced at the woman in eyeglasses waiting for him. "I almost had him, Baum!"
"The Harrison Readout suddenly came negative, Antonov," Baum replied sternly.
"What?" Antonov asked with a frown. "He's a telepath, isn't he?"
"The meters don't lie. He was positive until that scene earlier." Chief Officer Baum said with a frustrated tone. "Now we're back to square one. The only suspect we got has escaped or self-neutralized and he mentioned of a conflict that I think will now involve the Foundation."
"Fuck!" Antonov yelled. "Are you sure?"
"We could get the Thought Police to confirm if he was normal now," Baum said as she looked away. "I think I should call Captain Conoe right now."
"You do that," Antonov said. "I got to file a report to the Director about what the fuck just happened."
The five-man team entered in full battle gear, single-file, weapons blazing, and with PACs engaged. They cleared the interrogation room, spreading in a horizontal alignment, and surrounded the man still bound in chains.
"Please, I haven't done anything wrong!" The man pleaded. Tears could be seen spilling out of his mask's eye holes. Mobile Task Force Omega-20 remained stoic as they observed the detainee.
Conoe reached out with his mind and "felt" emptiness in the man, as opposed to the sensation of religious zealotry that was both exhibited and possessed by the mind of the man.
"He's clean," Michael said, wide-eyed. His expression was obscured by his helmet, but his subordinates knew what he feels about the discovery. "He's clean." He repeated with reluctance.
"Pull out," Baum ordered. At once, they moved out of the interrogation room with Agent Dante Pearce being the first one out, and him being the last. Before he walked out of the room's threshold, he glanced at the now-innocent man in telekill chains and wondered if the Foundation will still be safe now that they are engaged with an elusive group of interest with an unknown motive…
