[02/27.20ZV, Sunday, 9.27 am]

The noise in the stairwell made me wake up, despite serious fatigue. Waking up was especially painful also because I already knew exactly what was going to happen next. Explosion.

The "explosion"

Shock wave even reached here. White fragments of construction debris fell from the cracked wall, and the chandelier swayed noticeably.

Sounds of a struggle could be heard from the next apartment. However, they did not last long. To predict the outcome of a such breakout, one does not even need to possess hidden power. Even if the poor intruder knew about the visit in advance and had time to prepare a weapon, it would hardly help him.

I have time to take a breather. Fortunately, I fell asleep right away in my clothes, and I can not rush too much. The SPES will mess with the detainee for at least five more minutes. By the time they come out, I shouldn't be here anymore.

The floorboards creaked disgustingly, taking on all the weight of my hurrying carcass. One and a half hundredweight, this is not some trifle for ancient pieces of wood. After all, the apartment has been since the days of Small Progress. People who remember those times are already bursting with old age themselves.

With confident steps, I fly into the bathroom, then promptly open both taps to the maximum. An old terry towel immediately becomes an improvised filter. The feeling of wet and slightly warm dirty fiber is of course very nasty, but it's better than nothing.

Again a light jogs around the apartment, this time to the front door. Listening carefully, I tighten the fabric behind my back into a tight enough knot. It became a little harder to breathe, but there was no way without it.

The stairwell is suspiciously quiet. Even if the SPES has finished the preliminary interrogation of the victim, they usually do not ignore the witnesses. There will be questions about my stay in this place if the apartment rounds begin. There are no footsteps yet, so I need to check in person. There is still time.

Take a deep breath. Full immersion. Depth - a couple of seconds.

I open the door with a sharp movement. A pungent mist immediately hits my eyes, forcing me to close my eyes. Breathing becomes a great luxury - it is difficult to pour molten lead into the lungs. Fucking bastard Esper. At such moments, I even begin to regret a little that he is not a secretive person.

The second door on the left directly opposites the exit. More precisely, what's left of it. An esper of at least the fourth category smashed a wooden door into shards, clearly without making much effort. Exactly the area where the impact was applied was destroyed. This already says a lot.

I boldly go inside, simultaneously examining the surroundings. An ordinary apartment in a poor neighborhood. Paintings on the walls, a couple of posters "ZA SYSTEM"(FOR THE SYSTEM) And "V RANKS"(IN THE RANKS), hung with obvious disdain. Unfortunately, there were no inscriptions about the SPES, otherwise, the owner of the apartment would have been additionally asked for a "disrespectful attitude to the actions of the ruling party, discrediting the authorities, the honor of the country, freedom of the SYSTEM, the strength of the army, as well as, of course, for the support and possible financing of banned organizations." In general, the astronauts had difficulty, but restrained themselves, since they themselves had not yet written additional materials for the report on the posters.

The owner of the apartment himself turned up in his office, surrounded by a squad of armored officers. One of them diligently conducted a search, while the others with obvious pleasure watched the work of their regular brainiac.

- Question number 7. How long have you been working with the BSB organization? This time I'll even let you, you oppositional rubbish, answer on your own. I wouldn't want to collect your brains in pieces later.

Esper relaxed his control, allowing the detainee to speak. Judging by the face of the SPES agents, he did it with obvious reluctance. But still, for such moral freaks, torture brings special pleasure when the victim himself refuses to be "treated well." And now, a minor informant of the opposition tried to delay the issuance of even such unimportant information with all his might.

-Go fuck... yourself…

An unsuccessful attempt to spit in the face of the Soplovets ended with another batch of muffled screams. The man's eyes turned red and were on the verge of complete destruction, his face was covered with dozens of pulsating blue veins, his tongue was sticking out, and his jaws were clenching in senseless attempts trying to bite it off. Mind control and weak telekinesis. It's not for nothing that the cosmonaut officer is a brainiac, he obviously got shoulder straps not only for a pair of beautiful eyes.

Meanwhile, I was hiding as best I could, eavesdropping and looking at the situation through a mirror successfully hung in front of the office. Unfortunately, one of the bastards needed to leave the room right now. So it turned out to be a very comical picture - I, hastily pondering how to die more profitably, and the SPES cosmonaut, in slight amazement from the fact that someone really decided to eavesdrop on them so brazenly.

- Well, let's say fuck off.

I greeted a huge armored bully armed with a shotgun and a heavy steel baton.

- Guys, it looks like a suicide bomber has turned up here. The threat level is unknown, all here.

I did not react in any way to the attempt of the SPES to get together. Their behavior was only to my advantage. It can be said that this life was not spent in vain.

- And here they are, from left to right - graduates of FAPP, Gulagin, Legirtsov, Abramov, Molochnik, Krestoperov, and of course Gennady Petrovich Balamzin himself!

I ostentatiously saluted the six errand dogs, focusing special attention on the torturer. Those in response, with surprise and some apprehension, hastily took up fighting positions. Especially my words caused excitement among the fighters of small categories - Abramov, Molochnik, and Krestoperov. These armored monkeys in gas masks for the most part only looked impressive, in fact, their forces were only enough to counter civilians. But still, against even such weak astronauts, quite serious skills were required, and of a combat orientation. For me, despite the impressive theoretical superiority, defeating at least one of them is an almost impossible task. What can we say about the combat espers - the stunner-gasman Gulagin and the telekinetic of the second type Legirtsov, as well as the local boss - the brainiac Balamzin. Any of them is capable of killing me literally with the power of thought, despite the fact that even in hand-to-hand combat I will not have any special advantages. But they don't know about it yet. There is time to remember each of them in person.

- Well, who are you, since you decided to interfere with the work of the investigation, not to mention insulting an employee on duty?

- Gennady Petrovich, can't you force me to tell you everything in detail? Or are you already tired after the previous interrogation? I understand, age after all. Thirty-six years old, it's time to retire already…

- So, in a good way, our little friend does not want to… In that case, I am glad to hear that you are willing to voluntarily work with the investigation.

From the side of the skinny two-meter bastard, a wave of pressure immediately followed, resonating with all the surrounding objects. The furniture around suddenly became so sad that it began to blur and twist into many shapes, and then completely shimmer with all the colors of the rainbow. For completely incomprehensible reasons, I was pierced by a monstrous pain all over my body, from which the objects blurring in my eyes suddenly went out, and darkness fell.

With a slight nod, I immediately returned to a standing position. The delay went a little longer than planned, but still within five seconds since I was still standing on my feet. As expected, a collision with a brainiac is deadly for me - resistance to its effects is absolutely impossible. This is only in cheap films, the budget of which was cut even before the script was written, the hero can resist the waves of enemy espers' strength solely on willpower, and in this state manages to fend off the enemy. In reality, everything is simple - got under the influence = died. The only exceptions are other brainwashers, synergists, mystics, or fighters, and espers of much higher categories. Even a combat-secretive fighter cannot overcome the pressure, no matter how strong he is.

I carefully open the door, slip past the dangerous area as quietly as possible, and immediately head down. Half the work is done, it remains to pass by the remaining bastards below.

Having successfully passed several floors, I stop in front of a closed steel door. I throw back a towel that was not useful in reality - the gas did not spread beyond one floor, and I bring my appearance into relative order.

Take a deep breath. Full immersion. The depth is about two seconds.

I press the intercom button. The electronic lock switches off with a light click. With a smart look, I go outside, trying to behave as naturally as possible.

An ordinary courtyard of a relatively poor neighborhood. Benches by the porch, half-dead flower beds with lots of indeterminate flowers, and a time-beaten asphalt road. Between the house opposite, there is a kind of playground - rusty turnstiles, clothes dryers, the remains of a once-working carousel, on which only patriots-drunks now rest and have fun for the most part.

In the middle of the road, completely closing the exit from the entrance, the painfully familiar TAZ-14BP is located. A six-wheeled death machine in any reasonable person causes only a mixture of contempt, disgust, and fear. This one, unlike the younger version, has additional equipment - armored windows, grids, and a lot of armor plates throughout the body. Even a fighter of the fourth category will have to sweat against such protection.

This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

On the front seats of the basin, two SPES astronauts - Barantsev and Kolenchuk, respectively were calmly smoking. On one of the last visits, I managed to learn a lot about these guys.

The driver Barantsev was that still ambiguous bastard, a rare owner of hidden power and at the same time an esper of the second category. Working with such data as an ordinary driver is a real talent of an exemplary fucker. However, I must admit, he coped with his position perfectly. The secretive strength of the fortification, combined with telekinesis of the first type, made an already armored basin a real mobile fortress - both inside and outside. It was almost impossible to leave the cage in the back of the car without strictly escape-oriented abilities.

Kolenchuk, though, was not so interesting, since he was a simple fighter of the third category, but he coped with the task of protecting a more useful member of the squad more than adequately. Nevertheless, despite strengthening and telekinesis, Barantsev was very weak physically, relative to other SPES agents, and could be disabled by most remote attacks of a non-physical nature.

I am heading to the conclusion with an even step, trying not to shine as much as possible. Passing by the car of the SPES, I look at them with an indecisive glance and lean slightly toward the open window.

- Good afternoon, fellow officers! Has something happened, if it's not a secret?

Barantsev's disgruntled face looks out of the window. Measuring me with a contemptuous look and not finding what it would be possible to fucking pester me, coldly responds to the greeting.

- Kid, you're brave, haaaa... - exhales a cloud of smoke in my face.

- Eh, a bit. - I squeeze out a smile on duty.

-I don't often meet students who would start a conversation themselves without a reason. Suspiciously. Did you see anything superfluous there?

- Erm, what do you mean? Everything seems to be clean on the first floor. Heh, well, as far as it can be said. And so I didn't see anything suspicious.

- Haaa, and why did you suddenly decide to come to us?

- Well, it's so interesting after all! I am clean, I know my rights, what should I be afraid of you? And it's always fun to watch the detentions of violators live.

SPES barely restrained a laugh when he heard the phrase about "citizen's rights." I can understand him - learning to speak this game with a straight face was another task.

- I see... an unusual answer. However, there's nothing to see here, so it's better to go where you were going while I'm kind. Don't stop good people from enjoying a minute of rest!

-I understand, I understand, no problem! Have a nice day!

Having successfully passed the dangerous section, I calmly reached the turn and disappeared from sight. Quite a working and successful option.

Reality again, and the old piss-soaked entrance with a whole bouquet of smells of varying degrees of disgust. Nothing had changed during the dive - the body habitually kept a straight stance. A light exhalation, and again a deep breath. Full immersion. The depth is less than a second.

Opening the door, I immediately head for the exit. Passing by the SPES's car, I look at them with a slightly interested look, but when I meet Barantsev's eyes, I immediately turn away and just walk past.

The dangerous section has been passed, no one has reacted to me. Perhaps even more successful implementation of the escape - so the probability that someone will remember me becomes even lower.

Returning to reality, I decide to use the last option. Opening the door with a light click, I walk past the SPES car with confident steps. The astronauts, fortunately, did not react to me in any way. The main disadvantage of predictions is the lack of a guarantee of a complete match. Even in such a short time period, there are sometimes differences, especially when it comes to people with secretive abilities.

After leaving a relatively dangerous area, I headed from a relatively safe area to a relatively safe area. Simply put, I went home to the hostel of a local university.

The city of half a million people with the proud name of Kremzalit was for the most part just a mixture of villages that had grown to an impressive size, and many neighborhoods that varied in degree of poverty and underdevelopment. Each independent district of the city could be safely considered a separate decaying village, having only some signs of kinship with nearby settlements.

Fortunately, at least the city center could be described as relatively viable - it was immediately clear where the funds remaining after the cut was going. Of course, most of the problems in the form of roads that are defective in quality, a variety of various banners of the "RANK" symbols, and the general fragmentation of everything and everyone have not disappeared anywhere, but at least they have taken a relatively neat appearance. This can be compared to a securely sealed garbage bag, as opposed to a leaky and noticeably smelly one.

Carefully scanning my route through the streets for a few minutes ahead, I made my way to the city center from the very outskirts. At such moments, my habit of always checking my actions in advance was especially inconvenient. Looking at most of the local inhabitants with an IQ of 12, or even less clearly written on their faces, I wanted to get out of this place as soon as possible, but I had to literally repeat each pass twice.

I especially wanted to thank nature and genetics for a good ear - I caught all the local conversations without even having any desire to. And there was just something to listen to, and this position of deep degenerates made us think about the number of their falls in childhood. The fact that they were actively dropped was an undoubted fact - otherwise how to explain the existence of how many batshit people?

Passing by the next entrance, I heard a phrase that immediately attracted my attention. "Protesting against Special Operation..." "Protesting against SOED?". In this reality, it was still the end of February, just a few days after the historical date. Over the past few months, I have already begun to forget what was at the very beginning. I didn't want to admit it, but I woke up again in a new reality.

A group of old, rotting, and salivating patriots sat on old wooden benches in front of the porch. Their faces expressed an extreme degree of confidence in their own importance and awareness, and any attempt to somehow challenge their views on life and information was obviously doomed to failure, judging by the burning pure hatred for everything that only says to hate their favorite TV.

One of the fattest and most expensively dressed old women by local standards started almost half of the street broadcast of her fucking important position for people. Due to too active gesticulation, the nearest pensioners were forced to retreat a few steps, otherwise, there was a serious risk of being hit by a clearly not weak woman.

- I saw it here recently, there were protests all over the country! Just think, damn it, where did so many ungrateful bastards come from?! They will hear enough of all sorts of BSB and other liberal garbage and begiiiiin! They come out with posters, they speak out against SOED, young morons! The lost generation, where only their parents look?! How long can this be tolerated?! What are the SPES, CCTFA, SHC, and other power structures doing there?! I think it's time to end this era of illegal protests long ago! When will it reach our leadership that these bastards will not calm down so easily?

- Galina Semyonovna, so what do you suggest then?

- Me? To shoot them off of course!

- I'm sorry… And who?

-Who who? Violators of law and order! In general, my opinion is that all the protesters should be shot so that others would not be offended! But when they start shooting these crowds, then it will be possible to say that the authorities are doing everything possible to preserve peace and order! And then it's scary to live when you know that these crazy people are walking around somewhere!

- Oh, Galina Semyonovna, you're right!

- Yes, I agree, and I'm of the same opinion!

- It will be necessary to write a collective letter with our recommendations personally to the leadership of the party of the SYSTEM!

- Yes…

A stream of fucking flattering statements, endorsements, and all sorts of additions of varying degrees of disgust and rigidity immediately poured out of the smelly mouths of moldy rednecks. Listening to all this was so unbearable that I could hardly restrain myself from interrupting this run beforehand and going around the yard in reality in the longest possible way.

From such statements, even I, who have seen a lot of worse things lately, got up in a soft shock. Such an attitude towards truly great people from these fucking biological trash caused me such a wide range of emotions that it was not so easy to figure out what exactly I was feeling right now.

But still, most of all I wanted to fulfill the desire of this likeness to a woman, only in relation to herself and her pathetic backup singers. Unfortunately, I didn't have a weapon, as well as any other attacking abilities. But still, I had the opportunity to relieve stress at least a little.

Turning abruptly, I walked briskly toward the entrance I had just passed. Squeezing between the dirty and smelly old men, I approached the still rather grinning old woman to the distance of a direct blow.

Casting a look full of contempt and disdain at me, the redneck importantly clucked a standard question.

- Young man, did you want something?

Without answering a word, I carefully mapped out the balance and made a blow with the maximum possible force right in the face of the disgusting creature.

With a crash, grunting and a heap of all kinds of obscene expressions, the old woman flew several meters away from her original position.

Stroking the fist that had shot out of pain, I grinned contentedly and answered all the pensioners present, who looked at me with deeply shocked eyes.

- Nah, nothing important.