--===PALADIN===--
Paladin
Episode 1: Return To Battle
Author's Note:
*This story takes place in the Justice Seven universe. Though there is
no mention of the Justice Seven team in this initial episode, there
probably will be in later episodes. *
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Seven Years Ago
"Team Two, in position," the radio crackled. Agent Curtis
nodded silently to himself. He turned, motioning to his team. His
number-two man tightened up, closing the small gap behind his leader as
they approached the doorway. The demolitions man was there, pressed
tightly up against the building and waiting for the signal.
Curtis took a deep breath, and activated his radio.
"Execute, execute, execute!" At the same time, his hand came down hard
on the demolition man's shoulder. He cringed as a loud bang announced
the removal of the door from its hinges. Team One dashed around the
corner and into the building.
Curtis raced in, turning right at the doorway and rushing
along the wall, covering his sector. The corner was empty, and he
turned left to face the far wall, staring at the door, waiting for
someone to come through it. No one did.
Curtis motioned to his number-four man, who lobbed a
flash-bang grenade through the doorway. They all turned their heads
away as the grenade went off, filling the room with thunderous noise
and bright light. None of them wanted to think about what it had been
like in the room the grenade had been thrown into.
The procedure was repeated. Curtis darted into this next
room, and turned right -
And was immediately faced with a man who was already
moving, throwing something in his face. The liquid splashed against
his face, and, because Curtis unwisely decided against goggles for this
mission, into his eyes. The substance immediately began burning, and
Curtis was in so much pain that he let go of his rifle, which banged
against his chest on its sling. He clutched at his eyes as he heard
the sound of gunfire, too loud to be his own troops. He barely felt
the entry of the bullets into his arms and legs. For whatever reason,
the terrorist never aimed for his face, which would have been a lethal
shot.
Curtis was thrown to the floor, writhing in agony. He
could see nothing, and he was soon unconscious, lost to the pain.
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Curtis woke up a day later, lying in the hospital His arms
were both in casts, as well as one leg. He knew that recovery would be
a long and hard process. He didn't know the half of it, yet. He could
feel the bandages on his face, and he could tell they covered his eyes,
which was why he couldn't see anything.
He hoped.
When the doctor came in to visit him, it was the first
question that he asked.
The doctor explained. "Agent Curtis, you had a very strong
acid thrown into your face. Apart from the burning of your skin and
the removal of some hair, all of which will heal just fine, the acid
attacked your eyes. It was strong enough to eat right through your
corneas. I'm sorry, Mr. Curtis, but by the time they were able to get
you here, there was nothing we could do. I'm afraid that you are...
blind."
Curtis' skin went cold, and his body went rigid.
Blindness. Perhaps the worst thing he could think of to have happen to
him, short of paralysis. "Permanent?" he choked out.
"I'm afraid so. I'm sorry, Mr. Curtis."
"Get out," he said with finality. The doctor thought to
discuss arrangements for social services, but decided now was not the
time to talk about it. He retreated from the room of a man whose life,
to him, had just ended as surely as if the terrorist *had* aimed for
his head.
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"Hey, buddy. It's Jack. Tom and Alex are here with me.
How you doin'?"
"How the fuck does it *look* like I'm doing? How's the
rest of the team?"
"We lost Darren. Other than that and your injuries, we
came out with just the usual bumps and scrapes."
"The terrorists?"
"Five down, six in custody."
"Why didn't the flash-bangs work?" Normally, the team would
have walked into a room of people rolling on the ground in pain.
"That was cute. They were all wearing ear protectors, and
it looks like they had welding shields. We found them lying on the
floor. So, they hear us come in the outer room, which it looks like
they never used, anyway, and put on their masks. They wait for us to
toss the flash-bangs, wait for them to go off, and then quickly get rid
of the shields. They know we only toss one volley of the damn things,
right? So, they've protected their eyes and ears, and get to give us
one hell of a surprise. There was nothing you could have done, man.
Just so you know, Tom got the dickweed that iced you."
Curtis nodded tightly. *He* should have gotten him, before
he had his face filled with acid. "When are they going to fry the
fucks?"
"The trial's not even going to happen for another three
months."
"Shit. What's the fucking holdup?"
"Beats the hell out of me. You know how those pussies down
at the DA's office are."
"Fuck."
The team members spent some time with Curtis, trying to
cheer him up, but were unsuccessful. Ultimately, they left him to his
deepening depression and rising anger. Yet there was no target for his
aggression.
*And with what I am now, there never will be again.*
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"Please state your name for the record."
"Robert Curtis, Special Agent for the Federal Bureau of
Investigation. Retired."
"Agent Curtis, you led the team that entered the building
that day?"
"Yes, sir."
"And that was how you sustained your current injuries,
correct."
"Yes, sir."
"Please, tell us what happened."
"We'd received orders from Washington that this terrorist
cell - "
"Objection! Facts not in evidence!" the defense attorney
called out.
"Your Honor," the United States Attorney replied, "the man
is testifying to what his orders were. If his orders referred to it as
a terrorist cell, then he would be perjuring himself to say otherwise."
"Agreed. The jury will realize, however, that whether or
not the people before them are terrorists is, in fact, an issue for
them to decide upon. The witness may continue."
"Agent Curtis..."
"Right, anyway, Washington said that this terrorist cell
was hiding out in this building, and that we were to go in and take
them down. It's a typical mission for the CIRG-"
"Excuse the interruption, but what, exactly, is CIRG?"
"The Critical Incident Response Group. We're the sharp end
of the anti-terror division of the FBI. A highly trained SWAT team,
though we have training in things beyond what SWAT normally teaches."
"Okay, thank you. Continue, please."
"Right. Anyway, we did all the usual planning for the
mission, suited up, and headed out. We made the typical approach,
which should have kept us covert-"
"Should have?"
"Given what happened, I can't say one way or the other
whether they knew we were coming or not. Anyway, we made it to the
building without problems, and did a typical two-pronged forced entry.
I was hurt shortly after that, and lost consciousness. You'll have to
ask someone else how it went from there."
"I see. So, when you assaulted the building, you were
under the belief, because of your orders, that you were, in fact,
attacking terrorists?"
"Yes, sir."
"Thank you, no further questions."
As the defense attorney stood, he took a sip of water. He
turned to Curtis and said, "Mr. Curtis, did you see any of the gunmen
in that room that day?"
"Yes, I did," Curtis said.
"Are any of them in this courtroom now?"
"Objection, your honor-" the prosecutor said.
"How the fuck would I know?" Curtis snapped at the
attorney, not thinking. "Your clients decided to *blind* me by
throwing acid in my face! Now you're trying to tell us they're *not*
terrorists? What the hell do *you* call them, goodwill ambassadors?"
"Mr. Curtis," the judge intoned calmly, "I understand your
outburst, but please refrain from such language in my court. Mr.
Conroy," he said to the defense attorney, "if you stoop to such
offensive and callous tactics against a witness again, I will
personally throw you in jail for a *month* on contempt of court. Is
that clear?"
"Yes, Your Honor. I'm sorry. No more questions for this
witness."
"You may step down, Mr. Curtis."
Curtis got a puzzled look on his face. The case was not
going as he thought it should. He waited until he felt a hand at his
arm, and then he stood. He had just started learning to get around on
his own, and he wasn't going to make a fool of himself here. He
allowed himself to be led back to his seat in the courtroom.
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"Mr. Curtis, you don't seem to be paying attention to this
exercise. The point is that by using this device, you'll be able to
use sound to get a feel for the size of rooms, for the proximity of
walls or large objects, and to help you navigate. Since you refuse to
train with a guide dog..."
"I hate dogs."
"Yes, well, given that, you need to learn other techniques
for getting around."
"Why? Where the fuck am I going to go in this condition?
I can't even get around this facility, and I've been here for six
weeks!"
"Yes, that's precisely my point, Mr. Curtis..."
Just then, the door opened, and Tom walked in. "Bobby,
I've got some news, and you ain't gonna like it."
"What now?" he snarled.
"They walked. That fucking attorney of theirs found some
snafu in the paperwork, made the whole arrest illegal. The judge is
releasing them as we speak."
"You've got to be kidding me! You're telling me after all
I... all we went through, we're just gonna let the fucks skate?"
"Looks that way, man."
"So, I lost my sight for fuckin' nothing!"
"Not for nothing," the therapist said. "You were doing
your duty. You were an important part of the system..."
"Yeah, a system that obviously doesn't work. What good is
bringing the fuckers in if nobody's going to punish them once you do?
I risk my life, and lose my eyes, just so some pencil-neck *fuckwad*
can get them off because someone forgot to dot an 'i'? I've had
enough." Curtis got up and grabbed his cane, heading for the door.
"Where are you going?" the therapist asked.
"Home." He turned to Tom and said, "Get me a cab."
"You got it, boss," Tom replied automatically.
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Present Day
"So, Walt, you say this new program has real promise?"
"You bet. The lady who's running it, Dr. Langdon, is a
real genius. She's come up with a way, don't ask me how, to pipe
pictures directly into the brain. Could help a lot of people. That's
why the director is letting her run with it."
"I suppose it could save the taxpayers money in the long
run. You get all those people their sight back, it takes them off the
disability roles, puts them back to work."
Walt chuckled. "I doubt that's Dr. Langdon's motivation,
but it is one way to sell the program to Congress. All she needs now
is a volunteer. I gather she's having a little trouble with that."
"What's the difficulty?"
"Well, she's looking for a recent blindness case who will
volunteer. See, she figures that she needs to work with someone who
once had sight first, so that she can work through the program with
someone whose visual cortex isn't damaged."
"You can stop right there, before you go any further over
my head," Aaron said. Walt laughed. Aaron sat for a moment, thinking,
and then got a smile on his face. "You know, I might have just the
perfect guy for her."
"Who's that?"
"When I was working for the FBI, you know, before I entered
public service," Aaron ignored the sarcastic smirk on Walt's face, "We
had one of our anti-terror troops who lost his sight in a raid."
"What happened?"
"Acid burned out his eyes. It was nasty. Fuckers walked,
too." Aaron was not fond of the results of the criminal justice
system, either.
"Hey, that's the way the ball bounces," Walt said.
"Tell that to our guy."
"You remember his name?"
"No, but I'm sure the bureau could give you his contact
info. He's on disability now. Lives out in the country someplace.
Isn't real sociable anymore, I hear."
"Didn't take to the disability well?"
"So I gather. I didn't know him, so... Who knows, maybe
he was unsociable before he was blind. Anyway, if she needs a subject,
he might be a good option. He might even still have his security
clearance."
"I'll let Mel know. Thanks."
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"Mr. Curtis?" the voice asked. It was a feminine voice,
significantly shorter than his own 6'4" height. She sounded pretty,
though that hardly mattered anymore.
"Yes?" he said curtly.
"My name is Dr. Mary Langdon. This is my lab assistant,
Amber Mitchell. Can we talk to you for a few moments, please?"
"Why not? My calendar's free for the next few decades..."
The two ladies looked at each other as he led them into the
house. The place was neat in the way of someone who needed to know
*exactly* where everything was. Amber leaned over and whispered,
"Don't touch *anything*." Dr. Langdon nodded. The two sat where they
were directed. Curtis didn't offer them any refreshment.
"You seem to be handling your blindness quite well, Mr.
Curtis," Dr. Langdon started.
"If you say so. I'm sure you didn't come out here to
discuss my adaptation to my... what did that prick call it? Oh, yes,
my 'life difficulty'. What do you want?"
Dr. Langdon gave a surprised and distressed look to her
assistant. She had not expected overt hostility. Amber was part of
the project because she was a psychologist, and had dealt with
blindness victims before.
"Mr. Curtis, "Amber said. "I'm not going to bullshit you
and fawn over how sorry I am that this happened to you, though I am.
According to your recent disability evaluation, you are not handling
the necessary adjustments very well. In seven years, you have only
learned the rudimentary ability to use a cane. You have not accepted
repeated offers for a guide dog-"
"I hate dogs," Curtis interrupted.
"-and you have refused life skills training."
"I can feed myself just fine, thank you."
"You're *not* doing fine, Mr. Curtis. You need help if
you're going to continue to function as a blind person."
Amber had presented Dr. Langdon with her opening, and she
took it. "Of course, you might not have to."
"Have to *what*?" Curtis snapped.
"Live your life as a blind person. Mr. Curtis, I'm working
on a research project that has just received approval for the
human-test phase. The project is designed to give blind people their
sight back. We would like for you to participate in the program."
"Why?" he asked, suspicious.
"Well, for one, you're not dealing with blindness very
well. Second, your blindness is recent enough for your visual cortex
not to have been reassigned to too much of a degree. Finally, since
you were not blind from birth, we are certain that your visual cortex
functions without problem. We need to know that before we begin this
phase of the project, so that we can attribute any difficulties to the
device itself, rather than to the brain to which it is attached. Also,
since you're already in government service, your security clearance is
still intact, and that will save us considerable time."
"So, you want me to become your lab rat?"
"Well, I'd prefer not to refer to it that way..."
"What's in it for me?"
"I would have thought," Amber said, "That getting your
sight back would be compensation enough."
"Look, lady, I've heard a lot of crap from a lot of doctors
over the last seven years. None of it has turned out to be more than
bullshit."
"You will, of course, be compensated for your time," Dr.
Langdon said. "They will reinstate your FBI salary, adjusted for
inflation, of course."
"What's the down side?" he asked.
Dr. Langdon took a deep breath. "The only real down sides
are that it may not work, and that there is a surgery involved."
"What kind of surgery?"
"In order to transmit the images directly into the visual
cortex, we have to implant wire bundles into your brain. The surgery
is straightforward, but no brain surgery is ever without risk."
"If you screw up?"
"It could conceivably kill you."
Neither of the ladies understood why that elicited a
smile. Curtis sat silently for a full minute, before nodding his
head. "Okay, let's get on with it, then."
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"Welcome, Mr. Curtis, to Project Viewer." Amber said
formally. "VIEWER is an acronym that stands for the Visual Image to
Encephalographic Wave EncodeR. The Viewer will hopefully fit
comfortably on your face, kind of like glasses, though we really could
shape it to look like almost anything.
"In order to keep the disruption of cells in the brain to a
minimum, the ports for the device will be right behind your ears. The
Viewer will click into the ports, which will hold it snugly in place.
The Viewer will pick up information from the real world, and transmit
it via the ports into your visual cortex. Any questions so far?"
"Yeah. Just how big are these damned 'ports'? You're
going to put a serial port on each side of my head?"
There were a few chuckles in the room. Amber was not one
of them. "No, sir. The ports are roughly an eighth of an inch in
diameter, and they will protrude from the skin by about a sixteenth of
an inch. With your current hairstyle, people will not even be able to
see them."
Curtis nodded, without saying anything. Amber looked over
at Dr. Langdon. "Mel, do you want to add anything?"
Dr. Langdon walked over to him. "Mr. Curtis, I know you
don't want to get your hopes up, but we are really hoping that this
device can give you back your sight. Obviously we can't make any
promises, but we hope you'll at least give us the benefit of the doubt
for now."
"I'm here, ain't I?"
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Five months later, Curtis was sitting in a chair, waiting
for someone to hand him a device. He hated having all these people
around him who could see him, but who he couldn't see himself.
Finally, after an interminably long period of time, Mel walked over to
him.
"Okay, Bobby, this will be the last test for today. I
don't want to put any pressure on you, because it either works for you
or it doesn't, but I have to give a report to my bosses next week. If
we don't show some sign of progress, they might shut this program down."
"But we *have* shown signs of progress," he objected.
"True enough," Amber said from a few feet away. "Einstein
once said, 'I have not failed, I have only found ten thousand ways
which do not work.' I feel that way right about now."
"No," Curtis said. "In the last week, we've gone from
complete blackout to electrical sparks. That's progress. At least you
know we're getting a signal through!" Curtis was somewhat desperate;
he'd hung his hopes on this project, and he desperately wanted his
sight back.
"True. Well, you've shown even more than that today. We
actually got static last time. I think we're looking for the right
frequency now."
"Could be. Let's get going with it."
Mel handed him the headset, and he slipped it into place.
As always, he hesitated a moment before clicking it into the ports.
Though he'd been doing this for five months, it still felt very
unnatural to have a metal computer port built directly into his head.
He saw nothing, at first, because the equipment wasn't yet active.
"In place," he said, letting them know it was on his head.
"Okay. Activation, now."
Curtis winced in pain at the sudden assault. His brain at
first registered only pain, but that faded in a second or two into a
swirling snow of colors. This was new.
"I've still got static, but at least it's colorful static,"
he said with a smirk. Over the last several months, he'd become far
more cordial to the two he'd worked closest with. He respected Mel for
her intellect and her quick mind, and he loved Amber's warm heart -
once you got past her defensive coldness - and her sharp wit.
Mel sighed. "I guess we'll have to retune and try again.
Shut it down."
"Wait a second," Curtis said. "Why can't you retune it
while it's in place? I mean, if we can change the frequency in real
time, maybe we'll be able to more easily home in on the one we need."
Mel and Amber exchanged a glance. It was risky.
"Bobby," Amber said, "that could be very uncomfortable for
you. The tuning might cause repeated pangs of pain or discomfort."
"What's the difference if you cause it while the device is
on my head, or each time I have to put it on? The thing is, it's
really slow to take it off, retune it, put it back on, find out if it
works, etc. If you just retune it now, we can go in smaller increments
and see if we're going in the right direction."
Mel took a deep breath, as she always did when making an
important decision. "All right, but I'm calling the medical staff in,
just in case."
"Fine, fine, whatever. Let's just get on with it. By the
way, this color static is kind of pretty. Any way I can get a tape of
it?" The ladies chuckled at his joke.
They waited another five minutes for the in-house
paramedics to show up, and then they began. Curtis winced slightly as
Amber began to tune the system.
"How bad does it hurt?" Mel asked, concerned.
"Not as bad as during startup. I can live with it."
"Okay, but you tell me if it gets worse."
"Yes, Mom."
"Anything happening?" Amber asked.
"Just changing the color of the - YYAAAAH!"
"What the hell happened?" Mel screamed. Curtis had ripped
the device from his head, and was shaking his head now to clear it.
The paramedics were standing very close, now. Curtis held up his hand
to keep everyone at bay.
"I think you found something, Amber, but I don't know
what. The sensation was too intense. I wasn't ready for it. Give me
a minute, and I want to go back in."
"No, We don't want to risk hurting you," Mel said.
"I'll be *fine*. It didn't hurt me, beyond a mild
headache. It was... like overload. Like staring into a bright light,
only this wasn't a bright light, it was a... well, hell, I don't really
know what it was, but I want to find out. Maybe we're right on the
edge of the right frequency, and I was getting some distortion or
something. I *have to know*."
Mel weighed the situation, and finally relented. She waved
the paramedics back to their chairs, and handed the headset back to
Curtis. She held his hands as he brought it up to his face. While she
was leaned in closer to him, she spoke softly enough that no one else
would hear them.
"I know you want this to work, Bobby, but please, don't
hurt yourself over it. I worry that you're pushing yourself too hard."
"I didn't know you cared," he said with a rare smile.
Mel was caught up short, and Curtis would have found her
sudden blush amusing. "I... damn you. You know I care. Make this
your last attempt for the day."
Curtis nodded, and fastened the device in place. "In
place. Amber, is there any way you can reduce the intensity of the
signal that's coming in, without changing the frequency?"
"Sure. I can back it all the way off to zero, if you want."
"Let's do that. Perhaps the power was too high. Set it
down to zero before you turn it on, and let's slowly pick it back up."
"Do it," Mel said immediately, before Amber could look to
her for confirmation. When Curtis had come to the project, both women
expected the usual "man with a gun" mentality of a knuckle-dragging
Neanderthal. They'd not expected him to be an active part of the
experiment's thought process. What they'd gotten, instead, was a man
who could have been whatever he wanted to be, but had chosen to be a
protector of the people.
Amber twisted a dial, and flipped the machine on. "The
machine is working," she said. "Intensity at zero."
"Okay, I don't see anything at all... and by the way, it
didn't hurt when you turned it on, either."
"All right. Power coming up slowly. Say something when
you want me to stop. Five percent... ten percent... fifteen
percent..." She got to about thirty percent before Curtis had her stop.
"What do you see?" Mel asked.
Curtis was squinting, as if that was necessary. His face
took on a frown of consternation. He looked over at Mel, and for once,
it actually looked as if he was *looking* at her.
"Could you move a bit?"
She was almost offended. She stepped aside, so he could
look behind her, but his head kept tracking her. "Keep moving. Raise
your arm or something."
Mel lifted her arm above her head, and then brought it back
down to her side. She didn't understand the smile that appeared on his
face.
"Now, I want you to try to slap me... but please do it
slowly..."
Mel raised an eyebrow at him, but then lifted her hand and
swept it forward and in. Curtis immediately raised his left hand into
a block, neatly stopping her hand. She was at first startled, and then
she understood.
"It works?" she asked, almost not daring to hope.
Curtis shook his head as he reached up and unclipped the
device from its ports. For once, the encompassing blackness was
welcome. He now had a fierce headache.
"Not quite. I can see you, but... it's like someone's
screwing with the colors on the TV. The colors cycle so fast... and
some of it changes the details in the image, and it only sticks around
for just long enough for me to notice it, and then it flips to
something else... I can see you, but I can't see any details. And it
gave me one hell of a headache from all the color changes. They aren't
smooth changes, but sharp shifts in color."
"What could be causing that?" Amber wanted to know as she
walked over. She put two Tylenol in Curtis' one hand, and a glass of
water in the other. Once he'd taken both of those, she ran a cold, wet
cloth across his forehead. He reached up and took her hand, holding it
in place. He smiled at her, and took the cloth, holding it against his
own head, because it did help.
"I'm not sure," Mel replied.
"How does the device work, again?" Curtis asked.
"It takes light and changes it into an electrical signal
the brain can understand."
"You say it takes light and changes it... how does it do
that? A standard CCD?"
"No, we used some special techniques, because CCD
resolutions aren't high enough, and... oh, my God..."
"What is it?" Amber asked, concerned.
"Well, a CCD is only reactive to the visible light
spectrum... with perhaps some marginal reactivity to infrared and UV,
but generally limited to visible light. What we used... it's reactive
to *all* EM fields!"
"So," Curtis picked up for her, "what I'm seeing are things
that humans weren't meant to see, and aren't quite ready to try to
process all at once."
"Right," Amber said. "So... I guess we have to remove that
part and replace it, huh? Or somehow limit what it does... keep it
restricted to visible light."
"You could," Curtis said, "or you could find a way to allow
me to choose which frequency I want to look at."
"Wait a minute... now you're talking about going
super-human!"
"In a manner of speaking. But, if you've figured out a way
to *encode* to the human mind, don't you have any way to *decode* what
it wants? Can't we find a way to allow my mind to pick the channel?"
Mel had stepped away as she was thinking. She suddenly
turned around. "Maybe. There's been some DoD work done that involved
that, and they were fairly successful with it. I'll need to get
clearance, and that may take a day or so. Meanwhile, Amber, tomorrow
morning, I want you to rewrite the software here to limit its frequency
throughput. Tell it to filter out anything beyond visible light. That
way, we'll at least know that our initial goal worked. Right now, I
think we could all use a break."
"No argument from me," Curtis said. "My head is killing
me."
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"My question is, even if this new thing works, how in the
hell are you going to condense that big-ass machine down to something
small enough for me to wear?"
"That's not really a problem. Most of this equipment is
unnecessary for you when you're actually wearing the device. It's for
us to monitor everything that's going on," Mel explained. "We're
hoping to make the processors small enough to fit within the Viewer
itself, but if not, you'll just have a small device to clip onto your
belt... something about the size of a cellphone. Now, this new device
has a transceiver in it, instead of just a transmitter. Some new
software from DoD should allow you to pick out which fields you want.
We've set the software to default to visible light, and you'll have to
learn to tune it from there. We can make refinements later."
"Understood. Can we get started now?"
Mel smiled as she handed him the newly-modified Viewer. It
had taken her three days to get access to the Defense Department
project, and another two days to make the necessary modifications to
the device. She watched as Curtis clipped it onto his head, and then
stood back to wait for startup. They had modified the start up
procedure to automatically start at zero percent and then ramp itself
up to the necessary level.
Curtis smiled at Mel. "Such a nice thing to see as your
first view of the day," he said to her. Mel blushed and turned away,
walking over beside Amber.
"Okay, now, see if you can tune downward, into the infrared
spectrum."
"Okay... um... how?"
"Good question. Amber, what did you program in for an
interface?"
Amber brought up the design schematic of the new
programming. Mel looked it over. "Bobby, try thinking the word 'menu'
by itself." This gained no results. "Try 'Viewer Menu'."
"Okay, I've got what looks like a slider control." Amber
smiled, aware that her programming worked.
"Well, try tuning it downward, just beyond the visible
spectrum," Mel said.
After several failed command attempts, Curtis finally got
the slider to move down. He slid it just a little bit, and sure
enough, everything shifted in his mental picture. Suddenly the colors
of things weren't about what *color* they were, but how hot they
appeared. His brain was still trying to color the image normally, thus
the hottest objects came out as bright purple, whereas the coolest
objects came out as a dull red. It was backward from what he would
have thought of using, but his brain had not consulted him on the
matter. Still, he could learn to use it.
"It works. I'll be damned, it works," he said in wonder.
He moved the slider back into the visual spectrum; it was more
comfortable to look at things this way, since his brain was
interpreting things in a way he readily understood. He looked over at
Mel and Amber and said, "Ladies, I think you just helped an awful lot
of people." The women hugged each other tightly.
"I think it's time we had a party," Amber said. Mel
readily agreed.
...---=== http://netwolf.wolfpub.org ===---...
The lab team had their party, and there was a note the next
day on the board from the janitorial staff, complaining that it had
taken them all night to clean up the mess. No one really cared, and
they were in much too good of a mood to be upset by it.
It took Mel a week to reorganize the computer requirements
to try to make the Viewer a self-contained unit. She was hoping to get
it all within the confines of the current headset, but that didn't
happen. Instead, there was a small, box-like addition behind each ear
that contained the processors. Separating them in that manner made for
a slightly less efficient processing system, but Amber had been clear
that it would be important for Curtis' balance that the system be
weighted evenly, since he would be wearing it constantly.
Solving the problem of battery supply was a tricky one,
until another of the researchers stumbled upon some old data that
discussed the idea of using the body's internal electrical field to
power the device, which didn't require a great deal of power, since it
didn't have any truly active parts; it merely sensed the information
that came its way. That took another four days, in order to modify the
device to work off that type of energy. The team was energized now;
the project worked, and all they had before them were engineering
difficulties.
Little did they know that one of the engineering solutions
they'd already come up with would change the entire nature of the
project.
...---=== http://netwolf.wolfpub.org ===---...
Curtis was alone in the lab for once. It wasn't entirely
unusual, but they didn't let him alone too often. Since they had
managed to get the project working, however, and were down to the
debugging stage, they wanted him to use the Viewer as often as he
could, and if that meant doing so at three o'clock in the morning
because he couldn't sleep, well, then so be it.
Curtis slipped on the revised Viewer, which had no tether
to an outside machine. The unit was a little bulky and hard to get on,
but he managed. He decided that he would suggest they install a hinge
on one side, to make putting the device on easier.
Slipping the contacts into place, Curtis pressed the
recessed button on the side of the device. This was something he was
insisting they work on; the device should not have an on/off button,
but should instead activate when he put it on his head. This would
prevent people from trying to mess with it while he was wearing it.
The thing that Curtis wanted to play with tonight was the
channel selection system. He'd asked Amber to create a set of discrete
frequency ranges for him to look at, rather than a sliding band.
Because of the way his brain interpreted the messages, the sliding band
could become horribly confusing, with infrared becoming red, and blue
becoming purple. That was too disorienting for him to deal with.
However, when the device was locked into the center of the infrared
band, it was much easier to deal with, even though the colors still
weren't "right" to his way of thinking.
Curtis wandered around the room, glad to be able to see
where he was going again. He had noticed, over the course of the first
few days, that his vision had been blurry, but had soon cleared. Mel
had said that his visual cortex may have been returning to its primary
job, now that it was receiving input again. He hoped so. According to
the eye chart he'd read the day before, his vision was now an
astonishing 20/5 in acuity, four times better than a normal person.
Curtis switched over to infrared, to see if he could
actually navigate while in this viewing mode. He walked around, only
bumping into a couple of items. He stopped when he noticed something
on the desk. It was a soda can by its shape and size. The thing that
had caught his attention was that it was a deep, dull red, which in his
version of infrared viewing meant that the object was very cold. That
meant it could not have been there long. *That* meant that someone
else had been in the lab.
Curtis switched back to visual mode. He knew the soda
habits of just about everybody in the lab. He wondered which of the
techs was in here this late. The can was white, which probably meant a
diet soda, but he couldn't make out which one. He started to walk over
toward the can, when something strange happened. The can began to have
an aura around it. Curtis froze, wondering what the hell this was. He
watched as the can slowly rotated on the desk, until he could clearly
read the Diet Dr. Pepper logo on it.
*Victor. What's he doing here at this time of night? More
to the point, I've been in here for fifteen minutes. Where is he?*
This last question kicked Curtis' old instincts into high
gear. If he had set down a soda and left to go to the restroom, he
would have been back by now. If, however, he had been doing something
he had not wanted to be caught doing, he would be hiding, hoping that
Curtis would go away.
*Where could he hide?*
Curtis looked around the room. Then, realizing what he
should be doing, he switched over to infrared mode to look around the
room. His curiosity about Victor had already caused him to completely
forget the odd incident with the can.
His IR scan of the room didn't show any odd heat sources.
Curtis walked carefully around, checking all the places Victor might
be. He had to switch to visual mode, because IR mode was too confusing
for him to move into unfamiliar territory. He stepped out into the
hallway, and looked both ways. He wondered where Victor would be.
* What was it that he wanted?* Victor was a low-level tech
assistant; he only had access to the lab because he had helped with
some of the measurement equipment. Curtis had never much cared for the
quiet, almost surly individual. Curtis stepped back into the lab, and
then moved over to where the soda can was. He looked down at the desk,
and found schematics for the Viewer and a folder. Opening the folder,
Curtis realized it was the technical specifications for the sensory
device.
*That cocksucker. He doesn't have the clearance for this
material.* Just then, Curtis' instincts kicked in. He looked up just
in time to see a shadow. A quick step to the side avoided the blow to
the head that would certainly have knocked him out, if not worse. He
turned to see Victor holding a length of conduit from one of the labs
under construction.
"You just had to get nosy, didn't you? Couldn't mind your
own fucking business." Victor approached, and Curtis backed away,
until he was up against a counter. He looked at his advancing enemy,
and wondered what he could do. His fighting skills were so atrophied
that he had no chance of using them.
Suddenly, Curtis saw the odd flare of an aura appear around
Victor's legs. All at once, Victor's feet were pulled out from under
him, landing him on the back of his head, and knocking him cold.
Curtis moved quickly, finding some wire with which to bind Victor's
hands and feet. He hog-tied the young man, making sure that he would
not be getting away. Curtis then went over and sat in the experiment
chair, to think.
*What in the fuck was that? This... glow... is somehow
affecting objects. It's almost as if the energy had a mind, knew what
I wanted, and then acted on it. That would imply either an
intelligence that can read my mind... or that I am somehow controlling
the energy. This is too fucking weird. I mean, that would be... what
is that called? Oh, yeah, 'telekinesis'. The moving of objects at a
distance. But I have never had that ability, I didn't even think it
was real... but then, if it's not, then what the fuck just happened?*
Curtis sat for the next four hours, trying to reason things
out. He never realized that he'd fallen asleep until he heard a
shout. He awoke, realizing that the image in his visor had never shut
off. He wondered how his brain coped with that, but he had more urgent
things to take care of.
"Don't touch him!" Curtis ordered. Amber jumped back, when
she realized he was alive and awake.
"What the hell happened?" she asked. Just then, Mel came
in.
"I heard a scream... what the hell is this?"
"He's a spy. I came in here this morning because I
couldn't sleep. I found those documents out on the desk, and then
Victor Dearest here tried to bash my head in with that conduit. He...
tripped and hit his head, and I tied him up before he could come to. I
guess I fell asleep from the stress of the situation."
Mel looked down at Victor. "You son of a bitch. I'll see
you hanged for this." Curtis loved her exaggeration. He almost wished
they could do it.
"Fuck off, bitch," Victor opined. That got Curtis rather
angry. He walked over and delivered a vicious kick to the man's ribs.
The guy screamed in pain.
"Watch your fucking mouth, you goddamned mother-fucking
cocksucker." Curtis said, rattling off epithets like the cop he used to
be. Mel reached for him, to hold him back, but he was done. He
allowed her to pull him away from the man, though. He noticed, for the
first time, how her jet black hair framed a now-angry face. Her green
eyes flared with that anger, but Curtis knew how pretty they were when
she was less agitated.
"I hope you like striped lighting, you asshole," Mel said.
"Amber, call security."
"Already did. You okay, Bobby?"
"Yeah, I'm fine. Lucky he has two left feet." Curtis
wasn't about to reveal what had really happened. At least, not until
he was sure what it was.
...---=== http://netwolf.wolfpub.org ===---...
"I've been meaning to ask you for some time now... why do
they call you Mel?"
Mel looked over at him and smiled. They were out together
at a nice restaurant. It was the first time that Curtis had been out
anywhere in many years, and Mel had said she wanted to see how well he
could operate with the device outside of the lab. She saw him waiting
patiently for an answer.
"When I was younger, I was a Catholic. My parents are very
devout Catholics, and sent me to parochial school. At this particular
parochial school, part of the uniform was to have your vest
monogrammed. Most students just had the two initials, but my mother,
status-queen that she was, decided to put all three of my initials on
my vest. Well, if you initial something for Mary Elizabeth Langdon..."
"You get Mel," Curtis finished with a smile. "God, what
you must have gone through as a kid..."
"The usual... Having them call me Mel was just par for the
course. They didn't like me much, anyway. Smart, quiet girl who
didn't 'hang out' with anyone..."
Curtis nodded. His past hadn't been like that, but he'd
known kids who were. "Would you prefer it if I called you Mary, then?"
Mel smiled at him in a warm, friendly way. "Thanks for the
thought, but no. People have been calling me Mel so long, it's lost
any of its stigma. The only person who still calls me Mary is my
mother."
"Fair enough."
The two continued to chat throughout dinner, enjoying each
other's company as well as the wonderful food. Mel had picked the
restaurant for the quality of its food, but it was not, unfortunately,
in the best part of the city. The clientele were mostly middle-class
people, but some of the people in here were questionable at best.
One of those questionable people decided that he wanted to
cause a problem as Mel and Curtis were leaving the restaurant. The man
was obviously drunk, and was becoming belligerent. Somewhere in his
alcohol-fogged mind, he thought that Mel would be of help.
"Hey, lady, I need twenty bucks."
"Perhaps you should have thought of that before you came in
here," Mel said coldly, trying to distance herself from the man.
The man didn't like the tone of her voice, and stepped
closer to her. "Look, bitch, I don't need a lecture, I need twenty
bucks!"
"Get away from me! You stink!" She waved her hand in
front of her nose to shoo away the odor.
The man raised his hand to strike her, and that's when
Curtis stepped between them. "You don't want to do that. Leave the
lady alone."
"Get the fuck outta my face, blind man!" It was
interesting to Mel to note that the drunk mistook Curtis' Viewer for
sunglasses. What was less interesting was the fact that Curtis was
shoved to the ground by the drunk. She bent down to check if he was
okay, but that's when the drunk grabbed her by the hair and yanked
upward. She screamed as she was pulled to her feet.
Curtis, seeing what had happened, was enraged. He noticed
a heavy placard on the wall. Without much thought, he wished for the
aura to return. In just a fraction of a second, it did. The placard
danced against the wall until it loosed itself from its hanging nail.
It bounced forward off the wall, and straight down. It was a two-foot
drop to the drunkard's head, where it landed squarely, making a loud
*thud!* The man let go of Mel, raising both hands to his head in pain.
"Owww!" he screamed.
Curtis got to his feet and walked over to Mel, moving her
away from the man. Curtis turned back to look at him and, without much
in the way of thought, used his telekinetic ability to shove the man
backward into a chair. He used a little too much force, and rather
than being dumped into the chair, the man fell backward, toppling the
chair and himself to the ground. Luckily for Curtis, no one except Mel
had really seen what had happened. The rest of the patrons thought
that Curtis had pushed him.
Curtis walked over and looked down at the man. "If I were
you, I wouldn't ever touch a woman like that again. The next guy might
kill you for it." He turned around and walked out the door, assuming,
correctly, that Mel would follow.
-----
The drive away from the restaurant was silent. Mel
concentrated on her driving, and Curtis was caught up in his thoughts
about what to tell her concerning what had just happened. He paid no
attention to where they were going, and so when they pulled into a
parking garage, he was somewhat surprised. The dorm beside the lab
only had a parking lot. Mel pulled the car into a slot, and turned off
the ignition. She glanced over at him for only a second before she got
out of the car.
Curtis, knowing when it was time to shut up and follow the
leader, got out of the car himself, and followed Mel to the elevator.
He got in and noticed that she'd pushed the button for the twelfth
floor. He stood next to her, inhaling her perfume. He could feel the
energy coming off her body. On a whim, he switched over to the
frequencies that would show him her bodily EM field. He was surprised
to see how turbulent it was. He'd taken to paying attention to
people's EM fields, and he could tell when they were calm, angry, or
frightened. Hers was something he'd not encountered before. That
piqued his curiosity, but he didn't have time to consider it. He
switched back to visual mode as the elevator doors opened to let them
off. He followed her silently down the hall, trying not to pay too
much attention to the way her ass swayed as she walked.
Mel stopped at a door and unlocked it, motioning Curtis in
ahead of her. He heard her lock the door behind them, and arched an
eyebrow at that. *Maybe she always locks the door. I always do.* He
took in the furnishings, which were sparse, but tastefully done. She
didn't seem to spend much time here, if the last five and a half months
were any indication, and that was probably why she hadn't bothered
decorating more fully.
When he turned back to find Mel, he saw her walking out of
the kitchen, holding two drink glasses. She handed him one, and took a
large swallow from her own. He sipped at his; bourbon was not his
drink of choice. Mel, however, seemed to be working hard on hers.
When she'd finished it, she set it down on the end table - without a
coaster - and hugged herself. Curtis could have sworn she was visibly
shivering.
"In all the time I've lived in this city, I've never
been... the cold-shoulder routine usually gets them to leave me alone,
you know? I always figured... I mean, I never thought... he could
have..." She was too shaken to even complete sentences. Curtis was
surprised she'd managed to hold together all the way home, and that she
was able to appear as calm as she had.
Curtis set down his half-finished drink next to hers. He
reached out and touched her arm gently, trying to calm her down. His
touch caused her to look up at him, and then she collapsed against him,
embracing him tightly, and shaking with silent sobs of repressed fear
and agitation. Curtis wrapped his arms around her and let her cry it
out. He rubbed his hands across her back, beneath her silky black
hair, which reached to the middle of her back.
As Curtis continued to hold on to Mel, he let one hand slip
onto the back of her head, to stroke her hair and hopefully begin to
quiet her. Her grip on him grew somewhat tighter when he did that. He
continued to softly caress her hair until he felt her begin to quiet.
When he sensed that she was almost done, he gently moved her over
toward the sofa, where he pulled her down to sit with him. She
continued to cling to him, letting out the last of her sobs.
Finally, when she had cried out her emotions, she let go of
him, sitting back a little, but not pulling away from him.
"I'm sorry," she said, still sniffling slightly. "I
shouldn't have dumped that on you."
"It's okay," he said softly. He reached into his pocket
for a handkerchief, and wiped her eyes dry. His touch was gentle, and
she smiled at him for the effort. When he was done, she laid her hand
on top of his. He could feel his heart pulsing blood through every
inch of his body.
"Have I ever told you how beautiful you are?" he asked,
taking the risk, and hoping she wouldn't slap him for it. Instead, she
blushed.
"No," she answered shyly.
"You are perhaps the most beautiful woman I've ever met.
And I have no way to thank you for putting up with my pig-headedness
when we started this program. I don't know how I can ever repay you
for all that you've done for me..." Curtis began to flounder; he was
not good at this kind of conversation.
Mel knew that, and was touched that he'd gone as far as he
had. She decided to rescue him from his own ineptitude. "Oh, just
shut up and kiss me, would you?"
Curtis was happy to have been rescued, especially in that
manner. He leaned forward, and their lips met very softly, but with
much feeling. He returned his hand to the back of her head, pulling
her more firmly to him. Her hands ran tenderly over his chest. She
pushed herself closer to him, their bodies now touching.
Curtis wrapped his arms around Mel, and pulled her fully
against him, so that she was actually sitting in his lap. She wrapped
her arms around his neck, and slipped her tongue out to caress his
lips, hoping for entrance. He opened his mouth to admit her tongue,
which immediately began to caress his. His hands rubbed gently across
her back, settling lower and lower as they kissed.
When Curtis' hands finally made it to Mel's ass, she broke
their kiss. "Mmm. Yeah, that feels good. I know what would feel
better, though. Unzip me, please."
Curtis wasn't going to argue. He moved his hands up to the
back of her neck, and carefully grasped the zipper on her dress. He
tugged it slowly down as she resumed kissing him. When the zipper
finally reached bottom, he slipped his hands inside the dress,
caressing her ass through her slip and panties. She moaned into his
mouth, and he felt her wiggle against him. He soon realized she was
removing her dress, as she pushed the fabric off her arms and it
bunched between them. She broke their kiss to lean back. When she
did, she then slipped the shoulder straps of her slip off, allowing it
to slide down to join her dress. Curtis had not realized that she
wasn't wearing a bra. He inhaled sharply as he saw her large, pale
areolas and her erect nipples. He couldn't resist allowing his hand to
very softly run across the skin of her tit, causing her to sigh. She
gasped as his fingers ran over her nipple, causing it to stiffen even
more, and sending tingles throughout her body.
"Let's go to the bedroom," she said in an almost-whisper.
She pushed herself to her feet, and ignored the fabric of her dress and
slip as they completed their own removal from her body. Curtis rose as
she walked toward the back of the apartment, still wearing her panties,
stockings, and heels. Curtis removed his own shirt as he followed her,
watching her ass sway now with even more interest than before. As he
entered the bedroom, he kicked off his dress shoes.
Mel turned to face him, and smiled when she saw his bare
chest. She pressed herself up against him, and leaned up to receive
another kiss. He wrapped his arms around her, pushing his tongue into
her mouth this time, caressing the inside of her mouth and dancing with
her tongue.
Mel reached down to grasp Curtis' belt. She undid this
quickly, and soon had his pants undone, as well. She pushed them off
his hips, and they fell to the floor. She ran her hand along the
outline of his cock, which was pressing strongly against the fabric of
his boxers. Curtis groaned at the feel of her soft hand.
Curtis gently walked Mel backward until she was able to sit
down on the bed. He helped her to slide all the way onto the bed, and
then slipped his hands down to grip the waistband of her panties. She
raised her legs to help him remove them, and he slipped them down and
off. Before he joined her on the bed, he removed his socks, and then
his boxers. As he climbed onto the bed, he moved up beside her. His
hand caressed her abdomen as he returned to kissing her.
Slowly, Curtis allowed his hand to slip upward onto Mel's
breast. She groaned as he softly squeezed and kneaded the breast,
molding the flesh beneath his fingers. He broke their kiss, and she
moaned out loud. He moved down and took her free nipple into his
mouth, tonguing and kissing it, sucking on her tit and generally
driving her crazy. He could feel her shifting on the bed, her body
seeking more meaningful contact. Her moans were becoming louder, as
well.
Curtis allowed her ample tit to slip from his mouth, and
then he carefully rolled on top of her. She parted her legs to give
him easy access, and the look on her face encouraged him to take her.
He leaned down to kiss her again, and as their tongues began their
dance anew, he pressed his dick into her waiting hole. Mel groaned
loudly into his mouth as he slipped into her hot, velvety pussy. It
didn't take long before he was fully buried in her depths.
Mel reached down to grab Curtis' ass, and urged him to move
inside her, to make love to her. Her hips moved in small circles, her
pussy massaged his dick, and her back arched to press her chest up at
him. She made every sign that she could of wanting him.
Curtis needed no further encouragement, and began to move
within her, sliding his dick in and out of her. Their movements were
passionate, but unhurried. They moved in unison, their moves
synchronized. Even their cries came at the same moments.
It wasn't long before they both picked up the tempo, Curtis
slamming his dick deep inside of her, and Mel pushing her hips up to
meet each of his thrusts. Their bodies quaked with the need for
release, and when it came, they each cried out in pleasure. Two bodies
writhed together as one on the bed, twisting and thrashing in the
throes of pleasure.
-----
Mel snuggled tightly against her lover. They had made love
until neither of them had any energy left for it. Now they were simply
resting together, enjoying each other's company.
"How long has it been?" she asked softly, looking up at him.
"About seven and a half years," he answered. "My last
girlfriend didn't much care for my job... especially after she got
busted for drug possession."
"Ouch. Did you turn her in?"
"Yes. I did warn her, first. She decided not to listen to
me."
"That happens." Mel finally got up the courage to ask what
was on her mind. "What... happened, in the restaurant tonight?"
"Hm. Hard to explain, that. Tell me, did you see any
unusual light or energy?"
"No, I just saw a guy get hit on the head with a falling
plaque, and then he got thrown back by some unseen force."
"Okay... what *I* saw around each of those objects was an
energy field, like an EM aura, almost."
"You made those things happen."
"Yeah, I guess I did."
"How?"
"I'm not really sure. The first time it happened was in
the lab, when I caught Victor."
"He didn't 'trip', did he."
"Well, yes, but he had help." She giggled, and leaned up
for a kiss, which she received.
"So, this is an effect of the Viewer, not something you've
always been able to do?"
"Until a few days ago, I didn't even think telekinesis was
real."
"I see." She thought very quietly for some moments, while
Curtis held onto her, rubbing her side softly. "I'm going to have to
tell someone about that, I'm afraid."
"I figured you would."
"I'm sorry. Here I was, trying to make you normal, and
I've gone and..."
"And given me an even bigger gift. I imagine they'll want
to run more tests. It's not like I have a job or life that I'm missing
out on here, Mel. The only people I'm still close to are all in the
lab. Well, one of them is a *little* closer than that, right now..."
He moved his hand to a sensitive spot, and Mel shivered.
"Mmm. She likes it where she is, too." She pressed
herself against him. "I'll go and talk to the director tomorrow. I
have a feeling we're going to have a busy couple of weeks, at least."
"Could be. Why don't we sleep on it?" He leaned down and
kissed her again, before sliding himself down to lay his head on the
pillow. "It'll keep until the morning. Sweet dreams, Mel."
"G'night, Bobby," she said softly, lying down against him,
resting her arm over his chest. There, the two slept.
...---=== http://netwolf.wolfpub.org ===---...
"I haven't got all that long before I've got to be up on
the Hill, so this better be important."
"Yes, sir," Mel said, nodding to her superior. "As you
know, sir, I've been working with Mr. Curtis on Project Viewer. The
program has suddenly developed... an unusual result."
"You said you had it working. What's the difficulty now?"
"Not a difficulty, sir. It's... an unintended
consequence. Somehow, though we haven't had the time to investigate
how, when we modified the device to read Bobby's - that's Mr. Curtis,
sir - brain waves, we gave him access to some new abilities. He has
gained the ability to perform telekinesis."
"Excuse me?"
"Telekinesis, or more properly called psychokinesis, sir,
is the ability to move objects with the mind, without physically
touching them."
"And you have proof that he can do this?"
"I saw him do it last night, sir. We were together out in
public - I wanted to see how the device would work in the real world -
and I got accosted by this drunk. Bobby came to my aid through...
unusual means. Needless to say, sir, the demonstration was unplanned,
but extremely convincing. He tells me he can do it whenever he wants."
"Okay... what do you want to do?"
"Sir, I figure that someone else in the government is going
to want to know about these results. Perhaps the defense department
could make use of this portion of the device somehow. It's a
completely unnecessary addition for my own project, though there's no
reason for us to attempt to remove the ability from the device."
"No, I can agree with you there. Okay, I'll talk to the
SecDef and see if he has any interest in it at all."
"Yes, sir. We'll be in the office all day."
"Good. And good work, Dr. Langdon."
"Thank you, sir."
...---=== http://netwolf.wolfpub.org ===---...
"All right, this project is being taken over by the
Pentagon. Pack all this equipment up. Mr. Curtis, you come with us.
The rest of you are not to talk about this project to anyone."
"Excuse me," Curtis said. "You're taking the lab staff,
too, right?"
"No. We'll assign our own head of research."
"I don't think so. I'm not going anywhere without, at the
very least, Dr. Langdon and Miss Mitchell."
"Look, Mr. Curtis, you don't have any say in this
whatsoever."
"Don't I? You need me to operate this little whiz-bang
gadget, remember? If they don't go, *I* don't go."
"We *can* order you to accompany us, Mr. Curtis. The
device is government property."
"Which means you can take the device. You don't have any
authority to tell me to take a piss, let alone force me to work for
you."
The captain of the Air Force stopped and looked at the
man. Staring into what appeared to be completely impenetrable
sunglasses was unnerving, and he looked away.
"I don't have the authority to make that decision, Mr.
Curtis."
"Then I suggest that you talk to someone who does, because
I'm not moving from this spot unless they're going with me."
Mel moved over beside him, and whispered, "What are you
doing? You could lose your eyes *again* over this..."
"I'd rather lose my eyes than see you fucked over by the
system. This is *your* project, and I'm not letting someone else take
the credit for your work. Besides, I spent over five months getting
you trained to deal with me," he said with a grin, "and I don't feel
like going through that again."
She smiled at him, but looked worriedly at Amber. She,
too, was concerned.
-----
In another hour, an Air Force colonel was staring at
Curtis' impassive visage. "What the fuck makes you think you have the
right to dictate to us how to run an operation?"
"I didn't tell you how to run an operation. I told you
that unless these two ladies are transferred along with the rest of the
project, I will not cooperate with you. You are, of course, free to
find someone else to do it. On the other hand, the Viewer probably
won't work for a sighted person at all, what with the interfering
messages and everything, and there's no guarantee that another blind
person will actually have access to the telekinetic abilities you are
so interested in. I'm a civilian, colonel, and I do *not* have to put
up with your bullshit. You can fire me from the project, but you can't
make me cooperate."
The colonel stepped closer to Curtis, who was sitting on
the edge of a counter. "Listen up, you overbearing, arrogant,
empty-headed, unpatriotic..."
Curtis rose from his position at that. He stood to his
full 6'4" height, which was significantly taller than the colonel's
five feet, six inches. "If you *ever*," Curtis said, glaring down at
the colonel, who had instinctively taken a step back, "call me
unpatriotic again, Colonel, those MPs over there will not get here fast
enough to stop me from ripping out your throat. I was an FBI field
agent for six years before being blinded *on the job*. What sacrifices
have *you* made, Colonel? I don't see a single combat ribbon, badge,
or award in your salad bar! Don't you *ever* fucking accuse me of that
ever again!" Curtis allowed his anger out just a little bit, and used
his ability to shove the colonel back several feet. The colonel's eyes
widened in fear at the loss of control of his body. He realized he'd
just stepped over a very wide line, and hurried to correct his error.
"I apologize, Mr. Curtis. But you must understand, we have
our way of doing things, and..."
"And you can easily *change* your way of doing things."
Curtis' pronouncement was very final. "I'm not going to debate this
with you. Either they come with us, or I'm staying right here. You
need me more than I need you," Curtis lied, knowing that going back to
blindness, even after only a week with the device, would make life
very, very hard.
The colonel walked over to one of the filing cabinets and
leaned against it, resting his arm across the top, and putting his hand
to his forehead. He had only six months left in his Pentagon tour; he
didn't need this shit.
"Fine," the colonel finally said. "The two ladies go.
Hell, it'll probably save us time in the long run, anyway."
"Thank you, Colonel," Curtis said, without the slightest
trace of smugness or arrogance. He walked out of the room, followed by
the two ladies. The colonel actually found Curtis' polite manner to be
extremely annoying. He was too used to politicians, who would have
gloated over such a use of power.
*This is going to be just a fucking wonderful project.*
...---=== http://netwolf.wolfpub.org ===---...
"Cut the test!" the colonel bellowed. The room came back
to full light, and the colonel stormed into the testing facility. "Mr.
Curtis, how many times do we have to tell you, you have *eight seconds*
to maneuver the device to the proper location, or the wrong people get
hurt?"
Curtis sighed. "And how many times do I have to tell
*you*, Colonel, that I am moving as fast as I can. I'm not moving as
fast as I want to, or as fast as is comfortable, or as fast as is
safe. I am moving *as fast as I can*. If you want more speed, you are
SOL because there *is* no more speed!" Curtis shoved past the colonel,
nearly knocking him over as he left the room. He moved into the
changing room. *Do they really think it makes a difference if I wear
all this crap or not?*
"How are you feeling, Bobby?" He turned to see Mel
standing at the door, watching him change. He motioned her into the
room.
"Just the usual headache after working at it for so long.
These guys must be the densest twits I've ever met. You know, I used
to have respect for the military, but... if these people are any
example..."
"They're Pentagon-types. Most military people can't stand
it in the Pentagon, and want out as fast as they got in. We're dealing
with people whose whole career goal was to make it into the Pentagon."
"Wonderful."
"They've called a meeting for 10:30. We have to be there."
"They're going to shit-can the program. You know it."
"I hope not. They should just send us back to HHS."
"We'll see."
-----
"Mr. Curtis, you have assured us that you are giving it all
you've got. Do you have any remarks about those statements now?"
"Are you accusing me of lying to you, General?" Curtis said
flatly, a challenging glare on his face.
The general was unimpressed. "I know you're not thrilled
to be working with us."
"I do my *job*, sir. Every day, I go home from this place
with a splitting headache because of your tests. Every night, I have
nightmares because of your tests. Every day I get to put up with the
stress of dealing with that idiot you call a colonel because of your
tests. I'm giving you everything I've got, *sir*, and don't you ever
question my work ethics again!"
"Very well," the general said, mainly ignoring Curtis'
tirade. "If that is the case, then I see no reason to continue this
project. While it is obvious you do have telekinetic ability, it isn't
functional enough for us to use on the battlefield. Were we to attempt
to do so, I dare say it would just get people killed. This project is
being shut down at the end of the day."
"Sir," Mel chimed in, "you are going to send us back to
Health and Human Services, aren't you?"
The general replied archly, "The Pentagon does not transfer
its projects, *Doctor*. This program is over." The general got up
from his chair, and the rest of the military people followed suit.
Mel and Curtis stared at each other for a long moment. Mel
finally said, "Now what the hell do we do?"
"Pack up our gear, I guess."
"But... what about the project? What about your eyes?"
"I don't know." He walked out of the room, trailed by Mel,
who was very confused. She'd not had to deal with this section of the
government before, and was both irate and dumbfounded at their way of
doing things.
*What am I going to do now?*
-----
"Did they say what we're supposed to do with all the
equipment?" Amber asked.
"No. They didn't say anything, except this program was
shutting down at the end of the day. I don't know what we're supposed
to do. I don't know if Bobby is supposed to turn in the Viewer or
not. I don't know *anything*, dammit!" Mel exclaimed angrily.
Curtis walked over and gave Mel's shoulders a squeeze.
"Let's just pack everything up, and wait to see what happens. I
imagine they will send someone to 'escort' us out of the building."
Amber nodded, as upset and angry as the other two.
"Agent Curtis?" a voice from behind him asked.
*'Agent'?* Curtis turned to see a man that he recognized,
but did not know. The man had attended some of the tests that he had
just gone through. He got the impression that the military people
didn't like him being there. That made him a possible friend.
"Yes?" he said.
"We need to talk."
"About?"
"About your future."
"Who are you?" Curtis asked.
"Not here. Come with me."
"Look, if this concerns the project, you can talk in front
of these people."
"Your project is over. Bureaucratically, it has been filed
as 'closed' already. I want to talk to you about an... extension of
the project."
"I still don't see why you can't talk in front of these
people."
"Because they don't need to know."
"Look, I told the military, and I'll tell you: if Mel and
Amber aren't part of the project, I'm not interested."
The man considered for a few seconds, then nodded. "Okay,
fine. All three of you, then, come with me."
The three headed out of the lab, and down the hall to a
conference room with a guard in front of it. The guard was not wearing
a military uniform, but instead wore a black jumpsuit with a rather
serious looking sidearm that was, nonetheless, unrecognizable. The
guard scrutinized the unknown man's appearance, and then asked for his
identification. The man gave it to him, waited for the guard to
approve, and then took it back. The four then entered the conference
room, where a device sat on the table, buzzing.
"Please, have a seat."
"Anti-bugging device?" Curtis asked. "Someone is paranoid."
"This is the Pentagon. We assume that every room in the
place is monitored, whether we can see the cameras or not."
"Wait a minute," Mel said. "You're hiding from *our*
guys? I don't like the sounds of this..."
"Agent Curtis, you worked both organized crime and the
anti-terror division when you worked for the Bureau, correct?"
"Yes."
"Ever get tired of having to live within very restrictive
rules of operation?"
"From time to time. It gets very annoying when people you
spent months trying to arrest get let off on some damned-fool
technicality."
"Like the people who took your eyes," the man said, in a
very calculated move. "What would you like to do to them?"
"I want to..." Curtis stopped himself. "Very clever. What
do you want?"
The man pulled out his identification badge again. "My
name is Jason Zephram. I work for an agency of the United States
government that you have not heard of, and that does not publicly
exist. We are interested in putting your project to work for us."
"Doing what?" Amber asked.
"Straightening things out in this country."
"I think you'd better explain yourself a little better than
that," Mel responded.
"About twenty years ago, there was a *very* secret joint
meeting of Congress. In that meeting, it was determined that local
police forces were becoming more and more ineffective. Major crimes
were rising at a heavy rate. Several projects were funded, secretly,
to begin to combat the problem on a national scale. One of these is
called Project Guardian, and it started the agency I work for. Our
goal is to supplement the work of the police by handling things that
they can't seem to deal with. At least, that's the job of the part of
the agency you'll be working with. I can't really go into details
about anything else that may or may not be happening within my agency."
"You're talking about vigilantism," Curtis said.
"No, not really. You'd be a federal agent, with a wide
jurisdiction. You would simply be undercover at all times. You would
need to be leery of the local cops, because they wouldn't be aware of
your status. You'd be cleared of any problems quickly, however. A
simple phone call would handle things."
"How would you know whether or not I'm guilty of what
they've arrested me for?"
"It's... not really relevant. Agent Curtis, we've done an
extensive background on you. We've had psychiatrists do profiles on
you. In short, we know everything about you it's possible to know
without actually being you. You fill all of the necessary
specifications for this program. I need to know whether you'll do it
or not."
Curtis looked over at Mel and Amber. Amber said, "I'm
game."
"Mel?"
After a moment's consideration, she said, "I go where you
go."
Curtis turned back to Zephram. "All right, I have one
condition, and if you can meet it, then I'll gladly sign on."
"Your condition?"
"You let me go after the cocksuckers that took my sight,
first thing."
Jason smiled. "We already have them under surveillance for
you. Welcome to the Department of Justice Enforcement. Let's go to
the office. Our men are already on the way to collect your equipment."
...---=== http://netwolf.wolfpub.org ===---...
"If you've had these jerks under surveillance for a month,"
Amber said with disgust, "why haven't you done anything about them?"
"What would you like us to do?" Zephram asked her.
"Go in there and arrest them!" she shouted.
"For what? They haven't committed any new crimes in the
last month that we can arrest them for."
"Well, I thought this agency didn't care about the rules!"
Amber pouted.
"We don't. But if we're going to bring Justice down on
their heads, we wanted to let the person they hurt the worst do it for
us. We can't and don't arrest *anybody*, Miss Mitchell. We are not
law enforcement. We are *Justice* Enforcement, and justice doesn't
have much to do with the court system in this country."
"So... what do you expect Bobby to do, kill them?"
"Amber," Curtis said. She looked at him in expectation.
"That's precisely what they expect. And it's precisely what they're
going to get. Our team lost one man completely, and I lost my sight.
For that, they deserve whatever they get."
"Killing won't usually be part of the job. There are
other, creative, ways of punishing people for their actions. These
people, though... there's nothing else that's going to get through to
them."
"Let's get moving," Curtis said, ending the conversation.
-----
Curtis moved slowly along the roof. He was glad that he'd
been exercising heavily over the last two months with the military. He
was in almost as good a shape now as he had been back in the CIRG. His
target was right in front of him, still unaware of his presence.
Curtis wouldn't have seen him, either, on this overcast, rainy night,
if it wasn't for the fact that the bastard was giving off enough heat
to show up in a blast furnace... or so it seemed to Curtis.
It was very difficult moving with his vision locked in
infrared mode, and occasionally, he would have to switch back to visual
mode, in order to make sure he didn't fall off the building or do
something similarly stupid.
Ten feet... five... Curtis' movements were masked by the
rain and the darkness. The final moment, and Curtis rose from his
crouching position, his hands reaching out. He grabbed the man's head
and wrapped his arm around it. He bridged the man backward, his head
under Curtis' arm, and then Curtis lifted sharply upward. He heard the
sharp crack of the man's neck breaking, and he then set him gently onto
the roof. He felt no sympathy for the man, but dropping him would have
made noise inside the building, which he did not need.
Curtis spent another five minutes looking for the other
sentry that should have been there, but wasn't. *Have they become
stupid in their old age?* He moved to the door which led off the roof,
and prayed that the door was unlocked. It was.
Curtis heard voices as he moved down the stairs. He ended
up in a loft overlooking the rest of the warehouse floor. From here,
he spotted several jars of liquid set out, along with welding masks.
*So, they're still using that trick. I wonder if they've hurt any
other teams since mine. Well, they're never going to hurt anyone ever
again.*
He waited until the room was clear. It seemed that they
had all gone into a single facility, either for a meeting, or for
dinner. While he had the chance, he slipped down onto the warehouse
floor. Removing several devices from the jacket he was wearing, he
dropped one into each jar of acid. It took him only seconds, and he
was back in the loft long before anyone came out to see him there.
When the terrorists finally did come out from the room
they'd been in, Curtis put his plan into action. He had taken a radio
from the dead roof sentry, and he now turned it on. He spoke into it
in high, rapid speech.
"Cops! Cops to the west! They're coming toward the north
side door!" This was the door that Curtis and his team had entered.
The result of his call was immediately apparent. All of
the men scrambled for their positions. Each of them put a welding mask
on his head, but none of them bothered to lower them yet. Each was
also standing right beside a jar of acid. It was clear they would keep
their vision clear until the outer door was breached.
Curtis pulled out another device from his jacket pocket,
and lifted the cover off its button. With a look of satisfaction, he
jabbed his finger down on the button, which detonated all of the
explosives at once. The detonations ripped through the warehouse like
thunder, and the cracking glass was immediately followed by the
high-pitched screams of men who had just had their faces and bodies
doused with high acid. He'd worried that the explosives would corrode
even in the short time they'd been in the acid, but apparently their
housings had been sufficient to the job.
Climbing down from the loft, Curtis pulled a silenced
pistol from the small of his back. Walking up to each man, he leveled
the weapon, and fired directly into their heads. When he reached the
final man, who he knew to be their leader, he paused. The man was
clutching at his eyes, very much the way Curtis had done, seven and a
half years before.
"Hurt, does it?" Curtis asked maliciously.
"Who the fuck are you?" the man demanded.
"You did this to me, a long time ago. I decided to repay
the favor. If you're lucky, you'll die of your wounds before you get
medical help. Otherwise, you'll be blind for the rest of your
miserable fucking life." Curtis shot the man in the leg, making it
almost impossible for him to walk. He turned then, and, without
looking back, walked out of the warehouse, and into his new life.
...---=== http://netwolf.wolfpub.org ===---...
"You ever heard of the city of Broadmoor?"
"Just north of Mornington, on the west side of the river.
Yeah, why?"
"We're sending you there. We'll set you up as an
upper-class businessman. We want you to go after the bigwigs. You'll
need to travel in social circles, make connections, get friendly with
these people. Find out who the troublemakers are, and then take 'em
down, however you see fit. Try not to kill *too* many people, though;
it's messy and draws attention."
"Understood. What about Mel and Amber?"
"They'll go with you. We're setting up a facility in
Broadmoor for your use. We will never refer to you by name in any
communication again, any of you. Dr. Langdon, your codename is Merlin;
you're the wizard of this group, after all. Amber, as the sorcerer's
apprentice, your codename is Fantasia. Federal Agent Curtis, you are
Codename: Paladin."
...---=== http://netwolf.wolfpub.org ===---...
...---=== http://netwolf.wolfpub.org ===---...