Chapter 31: A Calculated Disruption
The chilling premonition of Myriad, of Kara consumed by despair, still reverberated through me. It was no longer just a distant plot point from a TV show; it was a visceral, terrifying reality felt through Cosmic Empathy. My previous casual interventions, the playful quirks, seemed trivial now. The Burden of Foresight was crushing, an isolating weight that demanded proactivity. I had to move beyond damage control and begin to sculpt the future, however subtly, to avert that catastrophic outcome. My deepest fear – failing Kara, corrupting her hope – intensified into a grim, desperate resolve.
"Alright, Non, you overgrown, telepathic, bald-headed grump. Your little mind-control party isn't happening on my watch," I muttered, my sarcasm a thin shield against the gnawing anxiety. My focus sharpened. I needed to disrupt his nascent plans, to divert resources, to sow seeds of chaos in his perfectly ordered, sinister world. This wasn't about a flamboyant display; it was about precision, about making the improbable appear to be a series of unfortunate coincidences.
[SKILL: REALITY WARPING (LVL 1). APPLICATION: RESOURCE DIVERSION (SUBTLE). FOCUS: EARLY MYRIAD DISRUPTION.][SKILL: MINOR TELEKINESIS (LVL 3). APPLICATION: OBJECT MANIPULATION (PRECISE). FOCUS: LOGISTICAL INTERFERENCE.]
My first target: an unassuming warehouse on the outskirts of National City. Canonically, I knew this was an early logistical hub for Non's operations, a place where he was accumulating specific, rare alien components for Myriad's development. I couldn't blow it up. Too overt. Too direct. It had to be a series of cascading, mundane failures.
I started with the warehouse's internal climate control. Not a full malfunction, but a subtle, almost imperceptible shift in humidity and temperature, just enough to cause sensitive alien components to experience micro-fissures or slight corrosive damage over time. Then, the inventory system: a fractional, systematic mislabeling of crates, causing vital components to be routed to the wrong locations, or declared "missing" when they were merely shifted a few feet. It was the digital equivalent of a thousand tiny, bureaucratic paper cuts.
Concurrently, I used Minor Telekinesis to subtly misplace key schematics on a technician's desk, causing them to fall behind a cabinet, forcing hours of frantic searching. A delivery truck, inbound with critical supplies, found its route subtly altered by a series of inexplicable traffic light malfunctions, leading it through a prolonged, circuitous detour.
The energy drain was manageable, but the constant need for precision, the meticulous orchestration of seemingly unrelated "bad luck" events, was mentally taxing. Every ripple had to be accounted for, every unintended consequence minimized. I could feel Alex's D.E.O. system probing, detecting the faint energy fluctuations, the statistical anomalies.
Through a D.E.O. comms link I was monitoring, I heard Alex's frustrated sigh. "Agent Vasquez, what's the report on the logistics hub? Another series of 'unfortunate incidents'?" Her voice was laced with an intellectual annoyance. "Our predictive model is showing a consistent pattern of highly improbable logistical failures. No direct energy signature, no overt intervention. It's almost as if… someone is systematically making things go wrong for them. It's too coordinated to be random." Her mind, I could tell, was grappling with the concept of a strategic, unseen intelligence rather than just a chaotic force. She was moving from what to who.
Cat Grant, of course, picked up on the story. "My dear viewers," she announced on CatCo Global, a sly smirk playing on her lips, "it appears even the most powerful criminal enterprises are not immune to the mysterious whims of 'the Glitch.' A certain, shadowy organization has been plagued by a string of remarkable bad luck: misfiled documents, mysteriously faulty equipment, and deliveries delayed by an army of rogue pigeons, or perhaps, an invisible force with a penchant for bureaucratic sabotage. One might almost say, 'the Glitch' has decided to branch into corporate espionage, proving once and for all that even evil masterminds can't escape the indignities of a truly chaotic universe!"
"Evil masterminds and their pesky pigeons, indeed, Cat," I thought, a grim smile on my face. My efforts were paying off. Non's timetable was subtly, imperceptibly, being pushed back. But the true battle, the one against despair and the Looming Shadow of Myriad, had only just begun. The burden of this foresight was immense, but the alternative – allowing Kara to face that future unprepared – was simply not an option.
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