Subconscious Dominion: Chapter One - Mission Briefing
DISCLAIMER: I don't own Doublefine's characters. And any in here I do own, I don't want anyway.
The incessant ticking of the clock on the wall was the only sound that reverberated throughout the office. Each intruding 'tick' triggered an involuntary twitch in Sasha Nein's steady glare at the opposite wall. Each 'tock' caused Milla Vodello to wring her hands in anticipation. Their superior paced back and forth behind his desk, his footsteps falling into place with the wall clock rhythm.
Planted at the two opposite ends of the mahogany desk was a pair of well-dressed men, bodyguards hired for the protection of the Grand Head. They stood still and stiff, like two stony guards, staring intently at the two agents seated in front of the desk through their shaded sunglasses. Their eyes were hidden, but the two psychics felt their gaze, heard their thoughts, making them slightly uneasy.
"Truman, darling, are they really necessary?" Milla asked in a hushed tone, although she was fully aware that the guards would hear her anyway.
"Oh yes!" Truman Zanotto barked, in a voice that could only be described as moderately shrill. His eyes were darting to every corner of the room, looking through the frosted glass door at the shadowy figures that moved behind it in the hallway, "I'm the Head, a high priority target."
"Target?" Sasha said, raising an eyebrow, "Of whom?"
"That is why I've called you here Agents Nein, Vodello," Truman began, taking his seat behind the desk and leaning over it, speaking quietly as if he would be overheard, "I have a mission for the pair of you."
Sasha straightened up in his seat, interested, while Milla clapped her gloved hands together in a personal display of victory. Their interest pleased Zanotto, and he spoke again as he leaned back into his chair, reaching to slide a drawer forward and extract a file folder from it. He slid it across the desk, where Sasha picked it up.
"Recently, throughout Europe, there have been several instances of terrorism, always involving a single or small group of known and registered psychic citizens," he paused a moment, looking down at the edge of his desk intently, "… Some of our own have been directly involved."
Milla shook her head in disbelief, "No, Truman, who?"
"I cannot disclose that information – not yet, anyway. But I can say that after a thorough search of their minds after they were detained, we found evidence that their minds had been under control of another psychic. They were stationed in Venice at the time," Truman said, again pausing.
He looked up again, "That's where you two come in. Several… 'Attacks', we'll call them, have been concentrated within the city of Venice, of psychics and non-psychics alike. These attacks of apparent mind control are threatening to the psychic world, the normal world, and the Psychonauts alike. It enables psycho-terrorism throughout the world, endangering us as well as… 'normal' people, and espionage within our very organization."
"Hence the routine 'head checks' you put into effect last month. I presumed there was a connection," Sasha said, leaning back in his chair. He remembered very well the day in which they were examined. They were required to let down their mental shields and allow a thorough search of their minds by ranking Psychonaut officers. He hadn't appreciated such a blatant disregard for his privacy, and specifically instructed the officers to put everything back where they had found it. But of course, they hadn't listened, and he found himself replacing and reorganizing the chaotic state of his mind the next day.
Milla, on the other hand, had hosted a party with them during her inspection. Her mind remained as it should've been.
The check had revealed two agents that were under the control; British Agent Charles Harrington, and Canadian Agent Mary Sweetwind. They had been interrogated and their minds swept clean of the intruding force, though no other details were relayed to fellow agents.
"Yes, with the high chance of spies in our midst at HQ, we've got to be cautious," Truman said, nodding, "Now, what we need you to do is to go to Venice and investigate these Mind Attacks, find where they're coming from, and, if possible, find a way to put a stop to it. Understand, agents?"
"Yes, we understand perfectly, darling."
"Understood, Grand Head Zanotto."
"Excellent, then," Truman said, smiling faintly and nodding once, "Any additional information is outlined in the file. You depart at 0800 tomorrow, the flight is booked and accommodation arrangements are being made as we speak. I'll inform Agent Botticelli of your departure and he'll rendezvous with you there, is that clear?"
"Crystal," Milla confirmed, rising from her seat, as Sasha did the same. Truman offered his hand to the pair of agents, both of whom shook it warmly in turn. As they turned to leave, a sharp sound broke the rhythm of the clock on the wall, and they turned back to face their superior; he had cleared his throat.
"We've lost some good agents on this case. You're some of our best. Don't get taken out there."
"Truman, darling, you know we can handle something like this. You know us better than that," Milla said, smiling slyly, flipping her hair casually before turning back and sashaying through the door.
"Anything else?" Sasha asked, knowing very well the answer.
"Don't get killed," came the response from between the pair of stony-faced bodyguards.
"That's never stopped us before," Sasha said, offering a rare half-smile, "She's right. You should know us better than that," he said, and followed Milla's path, shutting the frosted glass door behind him telekinetically, causing the wall clock to skip a beat.