Chapter 1
Point of clarification before you begin. Since this is a mind control story with a lot of mental projection, any dialogue with " " around it is spoken in the real world while dialogue with ' ' is in the mental or Astral plane.
I was sitting in a café, sipping my espresso and watching the world go by while I waited for my mark to show up. I had been watching him for almost a week and he usually took this route to work so this was my best chance to make contact. I just happened to glance down the street and I saw an attractive woman disappear into the alley at the end of the building. I didn't sense any fear or surprise, and with my mark apparently not going to show today I decided to see what was going on. Usually, young women do not just duck into alleys, even in broad daylight.
I quickly walked to the edge of the building and causally looked around the corner into the shaded alley. There was the usual clutter, some dumpsters, a few bags of trash and a couple of back doors to the businesses, but no woman. I was sure I had seen her, and then there she was. She stood up from behind one of the dumpsters, pulling the strap of a black body suit up over her shoulder and shrugging it into place. She glanced around but didn't see me, then quickly put on a hood and mask then shot straight up into the air. I watched wide eyed as she flew up the side of the building and into the sky, shimmering black wings flapping pushing her up and out of site over the roof.
Holy shit, that was Black Bird!
I looked around and couldn't sense anyone interested in me, so I ducked down the alley myself. I stepped behind the dumpster and looked around. Stuffed between the dumpster and the building was a black bag, almost invisible in the shadows. I pulled it out and inside were the civilian clothes this woman had been wearing and her purse. I pulled out her wallet and looked at her ID, Grace Rodriguez, age 24 was the printed under the photo of the smiling young dark-haired woman. Another piece of ID had her photo again, and her credentials as the crime beat reporter for the Weekly Trumpet. I put everything back the way I had found it and quickly exited the alley from the other direction. I headed home to decide what to do with this information.
I guess I owe you a bit of back story. The world I live in is one of super powered individuals, with everything from God like strength and invulnerability, to some minor talents trying to make something of themselves. Most of the people have no powers at all and spend their lives trying to get through the day without having a building fall on them or being taken hostage by the latest Villain of the Day holding the city for ransom.
Me, I go by the name Mesmer, or I would if I ever decided to come out of the super villain closet. Not that I would last very long if I did. While I have some mind control powers, it is nothing like Dr. Brainiac or Mind Melter. All I can do is read someone's thoughts and give a little nudge here and there to guide their decisions. I am at best a well targeted ad that pops up on your social media feed, and I think this is why I have lasted so long. All of my crimes have been low-level white-collar types, not the kind to attract the attention of the Revengers or Man Bat. Hell, half of my victims still considered me a good friend or business partner.
Still, I have done pretty well for myself. Listening in on thoughts outside of the stock exchange has led to some pretty lucrative investments, and many people have agreed to "suggestions" regarding financial arrangements that have paid off well for me. All in all, I had managed to make myself fairly rich without setting off any alarms. Now, I had the identity of a superhero, how could I make that work for me.
First thing I did when I got back to my apartment was to do a search for Black Bird. She was part of a 4 superheroine team with bird like monikers that called themselves "The Freedom Flock" (I don't make the names, alright). The other members were Hummingbird, who had super speed, Song Bird, who had a sonic voice power, and Cardinal, who used red battle armour. Black Bird herself could manipulate a sort of black energy field into solid objects like her wings and talons. A lot of new supers would form these teams to gain some street cred and hone their skills at the start of their careers. Like boy bands, they usually didn't last long. Many broke up as the supers went their own ways, dropped out, or died (it was a high risk occupation).
Once I had created a profile for each of the team members, I searched Grace Rodriguez. She was a reporter who had come to The City a couple of years ago after graduating a journalism course at a small state college down south. No family to speak of, parents died just before she arrived, single, and looking to make her place in the world. Being a crime beat reporter was just the job for an up and coming super, giving them a lens into the underworld and a plausible explanation for irregular hours and poking her nose into things. I sat back and closed my eyes, picturing her ID and the other things I had found in the bag. One of the benefits of having Mind powers, is you develop a total control of your own mind and body so I had a photographic memory. I saw that she lived a couple of blocks away from here and decided to pay her a visit.
A couple of hours later I was seated on a bench across from the door to her apartment building, idly flipping through my phone as I watched the people come and go. There she was, walking down the street talking on her own phone. I quickly crossed the road and timed my arrival so that I got there just before she did. I pulled the door open and stood back "Allow me." I said in a polite tone.
"Thanks" she replied with a polite smile as she stepped in. I took the opportunity to do a quick scan of her surface thoughts. Frustration at missing out on the lead she had been following, exasperation at her editor who she was busy telling that the story wasn't finished yet, hunger since she had missed lunch, and she wanted a shower.
I followed her in, through the foyer and toward the elevator. She was still talking as she punched the button for the 5th floor, and I leaned forward to push the one for the 8th. As I did, I brushed her hand and used the physical contact to do a deeper dive into her mind.
I sensed her anger at how the criminal she had been tailing for five days hadn't shown up for the meeting she had discovered. Fatigue from the long nights she had been spending tracking this lead down. Embarrassment at what the other Flock members would think if she couldn't give them a target soon. Finally there it was, deeply hidden under a sense of duty and purpose, loneliness. She sighed inwardly as she stepped off of the elevator, not looking forward to returning to her empty apartment with no one to talk to about her day, not even a cat apparently. I rode the elevator up to the eighth floor, then waited a few minutes before taking the stairs back down to the lobby. I checked the mailboxes and saw she was in apartment 501, then headed out to plan my next move.
A couple of days later and I was standing in the lobby of the Weekly Trumpet, watching the numbers tick down as the elevator came to the ground floor. I could sense Ms. Rodriguez in the car, I had tagged her psychic "scent" when we last met. I could feel her frustration and exasperation after getting reamed out by her editor, and she was perfectly distracted. I positioned myself in the door as they slid open and she bumped into me, as she hastened off.
"Dammit, sorry." She murmured as she moved to step around me.