By and large, this work was done by the goons of her squad. To be frank, their abilities were better suited. Bullets were impossible to react to, moved faster than she could propel objects with telekinesis, and were much easier to use. Still, she participated, as a backseat presence—literally, in this case. A cheap blue van rumbled down the highway, mercenaries variously either driving or poised in preparation to rush out the back doors. The particularly competent driver carried the watcher of this particular operation in the backseat.
<<Everything looks clear,>> the telepathic message addressed the mercenaries.
In the back of the car, a woman wearing the same olive drab color as the rest of the mercenaries flipped through a novel. She wore black gloves, long sleeves, combat boots and a face mask. Straight dark hair cascaded to her shoulders, matching her outfit—an unnatural dark green. Short but thickly built, she rested comfortably, giving her mind some relaxation in case of trouble
.
The half-mile radius of her mindsight didn't detect anything particularly threatening. No powerful races around…but there was an unusual pattern of minds in the area surrounding their target. Probably nothing, but the psychic made a mental note to be aware of them.
The rumbling stopped as the vans and car stopped, at the construction site. As the mercs flooded out of the van—three of them, followed by the driver as the fourth—she slipped a red bookmark into the book and closed it. She’d have to pay more attention, with the action actually starting.
<<You know the drill. Head on up ahead,>> her telepathy instructed to the mercs alone. Pale eyes looked out of the windshield in front of her. Today shouldn't be a problem. She set the book down and climbed out of the van, following a dozen steps behind the rest of the squad. The psychic lacked weapons besides a small combat knife on her belt, but, well, she didn't need any.
The mercs brandished their machine guns, prepared to assault the construction.