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 10,000 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 were 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 know 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."

"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.

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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.

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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.

...---===EWPUB.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 Catholic school. At this particular Catholic 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.

...---===EWPUB.ORG===---...

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, his 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.

...---===EWPUB.ORG===---...

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.

...---===EWPUB.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."

...---===EWPUB.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.

...---===EWPUB.ORG===---...

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.

...---===EWPUB.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."

...---===EWPUB.ORG===---...

"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?

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"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."

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"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.

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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 weren'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 ago.

"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.

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"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."

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