WALTER’S STORY, Part Two

[Walter Shindell, a genial truck driver on his way to 
New Jersey, has been delayed in Dallas, Texas, as 
being a Good Samaritan leads him to a confrontation 
with a destructive six year-old and a more sinister 
entity that has possessed her. Not the least of his 
shocks is the discovery that he may possess superhuman 
powers himself!]

=======================

>> //You shut him down somehowstop himmaybe you 
canstophim forever and
>> free us....//

The voice echoes through his head, startling even as 
it amazes Walt.  So many strange things have happened 
in the last few hours, his "scared circuits" were 
overloaded a few plot twists back <g>.  For a 
flickering moment the thought goes through Walt's head 
that the "surferdude" voice was far too easily 
frightened; there had been no reason for Walt to be 
afraid of Jamie...

>>**FREE!**
>>**ME!!!!**

Now this voice, the one that Walt subconsciously 
attatched to the cold hearted young man that had 
appeared, this was another matter entirely.  Walt had 
seen enough young toughs with icewater in their veins 
to recognize the danger in this one.  *This* voice was 
enough to send a chill through Walt, for reasons he 
couldn't quite define...

>> //...Daddy!//

Jamie's plaintive cry tore through Walt, the fear and 
desperation in it cutting deeply into Walt as well.  
That poor little girl was somehow wrapped up in 
something that was probably over everyones' heads, let 
alone a childs.  It was clear to Walt that *he* had 
only the slightest idea what was going on!

Walt sags against the side of the ambulance, 
emotionally and mentally drained by the strangeness of 
all that has transpired.  He turns and notices the two 
agents with the rifles for the first time.  Shaking 
his head wearily, Walt speaks.  "Neighbors, why don't 
you put away the guns and make yourselves more useful; 
there's plenty o' folks in that hospital what need 
helpin' more than we need shootin'."  Then he turns 
and tries to keep Richard from hurting himself even 
more than he already has.

-Walt-

<><><><><>

[GM]

One of the agents glares at you. "You're goddamned 
lucky you don't get arrested for interfering with a 
federal agent!" Then they turn to Richard, see that 
he's in a basically incoherent state, and apparently 
decide to leave him alone for now. More dark suits 
like the ones that got torn up in front of the medical 
center now appear, spilling out of a dark, unmarked 
van. They converge on the two armed agents, and the 
group meets in a huddle. You overhear the word 
"Legion" being mentioned several times.

<><><><><>

Walt only pays partial attention to the conversation 
between the agents; he may believe in and support the 
way the country is run, but that doesn't mean that he 
can't recognize 'bozos' when he sees them.  Right now 
he's more concerned for Richard and Laurie, and with 
this 'Legion' and what exactly they have to do with 
it.  He walks over to Richard and leans in close, so 
that the agents won't be able to overhear him should 
they grow more interested in what he's saying than 
trying to avoid the blame for whatever happened here.

"Listen, Rich" he says, voice pitched low and 
sympathetic, "you have to snap out of it.  What do you 
know about this 'Legion'?  However I did it, I shut it 
down once...you heard the voices.  Maybe, God knows 
how, but maybe if you can give me some clue as to what 
is going on here I can get her back!"  His words do 
not betray the uncertainty that he feels about this, 
only showing the resolve to get her back...somehow.  
"You have to tell me what's going on, and we have to 
get out of here."

-Walt-

<><><><><>

[GM]

Richard looks up at you. "I don't know s*** about this 
'Legion', and I don't what the hell you mean by 
voices. My daughter had a.....power. We brought her 
here to figure out what was going on, she was throwing 
things around the house like a...a poltergeist. My 
wife...." his eyes widen. "My wife was right next to 
her, that explosion...." He crumples back to the 
ground with a moan.

<><><><><>

"His daughter had 'a power'?" Walt thought to himself.  
That was like saying that the Grand Canyon was 'a 
ditch' or that Star Trek was 'a show'; at best an 
understatement.  Walt had seen this little girl (or 
whatever it was that was controlling her; possession 
didn't require that much of a leap from psychic 
powers) pick him up without touching him, and he'd 
seen her floating in mid- air and glowing like a 
firefly.  And if she (or her controller) was the one 
that caused that explosion, well then this was a 
*huge* amount of power that they were talking about.

Walt frowned, looking puzzled; what did all this have 
to do with him?  "Surfer Dude" had said that somehow 
Walt had stopped 'Legion', at least for a while, and 
had seemed pleased and startled by that.  Now Richard 
was telling him that he hadn't heard any of the 
shouting or voices that Walt had.  And on top of it 
all, it seemed from the presense of the Federal agents 
and their general level of preparedness that they were 
aware that this sort of thing was going on.  And here 
was Walt, cast into the middle by his own choice.  Of 
course, back when he first got involved in all this 
(was it really only earlier today?), he didn't have 
any idea that this was going to turn into some kind of 
Natiional Inquirer headline, like "TK tot trashes 
Texas" or some such garbage...

But it was true, and if what the voice told him was 
true as well, then *he*, Walter Richard Shindell, had 
some sort of powers as well.  Walt laughed at the 
notion, it was so ridiculous, but too many things had 
gone on for him to write off the notion entirely.  
Things like the fact that while the guards had been 
completely shredded by the blast and the flying glass, 
he hadn't even been scratched.  Things like the fact 
that he was hearing all these voices, one of which 
Walt was sure belonged to Laurie, and Richard hadn't 
heard a sound, nor apparently had the agents.  And 
then there was the statement from "SurferDude", the 
words that echoed in his mind still...

//You shut him down somehowstop himmaybe you 
canstophim forever and free us..//

For whatever reason, Walt was here now, and in up to 
his neck, but that was the way it was, and belly-
acheing wasn't going to help anything.  No, right now 
was the time for clear thinking, and it was clear that 
Richard couldn't think.  As Walt shook his head, 
clearing away the haze of deep thought, he looks 
around.  If there are any of those agents around 
still, he'll try and get one's attention.

"Excuse me, neighbor, but is there anything you all 
are planning to do with my friend Richard here?  Seems 
to me he's in pretty rough shape, both mentally and 
physically, and somehow I think slouched on the 
pavement next to an ambulance isn't really the best 
place for him."

Shaking his head, Walt turns to look at the slumped 
figure of a grieving father and husband.  "Laurie, 
where are you girl" he wondered to himself, not really 
expecting an answer.

-Walt-

<><><><><>

[GM]

"Are you a friend of Mr. Coris?" one of the agents 
asks. "You'd better look after him for now. We'll be 
in touch when we know more about the status of his 
daughter."

Another one says, "Hold it." He approaches you, and 
shows you a badge: Special Agent Mark Ewing, 
Department of Defense. "Why don't you tell me just 
what happened inside? I know you're probably thinking 
things are moving a bit abruptly, but trust me, this 
is an emergency situation and we have to act 
accordingly."

<><><><><>

Walt scrutinizes the badge, noting the number and 
trying to make sure that it is a DOD badge.  "Wait a 
minute!," Walt thinks to himself, "what's DOD got to 
do with any of this?"  The answer came right on the 
heels of the question; if there was some sort of 
paranormal business going on, DOD would probably end 
up getting involved.  "Matters of National security" 
and all that.  

Now, it may be that a little warning light went off 
just then, when Walt was thinking about what he was 
going to tell this agent Ewing.  Unfortunately, he'd 
never really gotten into the habit of automatically 
defying authority, and he'd always bee taught by his 
mother to be "properly" respectful of people such as 
this (as long as they were polite).

"Well, sir, it really is pretty straight forward, 
strange as that may seem.  I was standing out front 
with Richard while he talked to the two agents.  By 
the way, are they allright?  Anyway, all of a sudden 
there was this huge explosion; a strange one, though, 
what with no heat or flame to go with the shock wave.  
Glass went everywhere, and the agents and Richard got 
chewed up pretty bad.  Next thing I know, Richard's 
running inside to try and find his wife and his 
daughter, and the agents are bleeding.  I ran out to 
the truck to get the first aid kit and to call the 
rescue and the police.  I did what I could for the 
agents, then ran after Richard to make sure he was OK.  
When I found him, he was standing in a hallway."

"Laurie, his daughter, was standing there also...well, 
not standing, exactly; more like floating and glowing.  
I heard this voice in my head then, warning me that I 
might want to run away.  Before I really could, 
though, she "grabbed" me somehow, liftend me up in the 
air without touching me...isn't that called... 
Telekenesis or something?  Anyway, she pulled me in 
close and I think was going to do something terrible.  
Actually, I'm not sure it was her, not really; I have 
this feeling that someone/thing called "Legion" is 
behind this.  But back to the corridor; she was about 
to do "something", when the glow and the floating 
just...stopped.  I fell, she fell, and that same voice 
in my head went off on how I had "turned him off", 
stopping whatever power was at work.  I don't know how 
or why, but she/he/it did stop.  Richard didn't hear 
the voices, but I could hear the "SurferDude" voice, 
the "Cold" voice, and the then there was Laurie's 
scream.  This guy with really cold eyes appeared where 
Laurie had been, and then dissappeared a couple of 
seconds later."

"That's about it."

-Walt-

<><><><><>

[GM]

The agent looks hard at you for a few long moments. 
And asks you to repeat the part about Jamie grabbing 
you, and the voices, and how you "shut her off". Then 
he says, "Mr. Shindell....have you been watching the 
news? You've heard about superhumans, showing up 
around the world?"

"From what you've told me....I think you might be one 
yourself."

<><><><><>

Walt mentally curses, hoping that the agent would have 
been able to come up with some more rational 
explanation than the one that Walt had arrived at on 
his own!  He sighs, shaking his head in resignation.  
"Nothing for it then, I suppose; if that's the way it 
is then that's the way it is. No use trying to wish it 
away."

//Jamie?//

He feels foolish, acutely aware of how completely 
clueless he is with regards to the "hows" of all of 
this.  But he has to find her, somehow, and right now 
this is the sanest of his insane choices.  The only 
thing that Walt can think to do is think of her, to 
try and remember the fleeting glimpses of her when she 
was just a little girl, and not some coldly 
powerful...*thing*.  He brings an image of her to 
mind, concentrating on her voice, how frightened that 
little girl had sounded as she faded from sight.

//Jamie, I don't have the foggiest notion even if 
you'll hear this, but I got to try...can you hear me, 
darlin'?//

Desperation giving him a determination that borders on 
foolishness, Walt tries that which up until today he 
had thought was the stuff of books and movies.  He 
tries because somewhere there is a little girl who is 
lost (in more ways than one) and who's daddy is going 
mad with grief and fear.

//Jamie?//

-Walt-

<><><><><>

[GM]

If Jamie can hear you, she's not answering.

"You've just seen the kind of damage some of the 
supers can do," the federal agent tells you. "The 
entity we've been calling 'Legion' is one of the most 
dangerous. If you have some kind of ability to 
neutralize superhumans....we need you. We only have a 
few superhumans on our side right now. The government 
is willing to be VERY generous to those of you who 
will work for us and help control the ones that are 
running amok. If you heard what just happened in 
Israel, you know that people like you may be the only 
protection normal people have, against super-
terrorists like Deathstorm and Legion."

<><><><><>

Too late, Walt chided himself for being *so* 
straightforward; this was *not* the way that he had 
wanted this conversation to go!  But, as his ma used 
to say, "you made your bed, now lie in it"; he'd said 
it, so now it was time to deal with it.

"Well, agent, all I know is what I told you...no, 
wait, there is one more thing that I forgot to tell 
you.  I don't know if it means anything, but best we 
get all this out in the open right here and now.  Back 
when some of you boys were coming through the hospital 
with their rifles, they got all weird like when they 
tried to, well, "deal" with me.  They suddenly were 
tripping all over themselves, like they were clowns at 
a circus...no offense."

Walt is quiet for a moment, weighing his options.  If 
he *did* have powers, what then?  Walt had been given 
too many values growing up not to feel that he should 
use them to good effect.  But what happened to *him* 
if he did agree to help the government?  Would it be 
like being drafted, only forever?  He just didn't 
know.  But he had to find out.

"I *may* have powers, agent; I'm not completely sure.  
But even if I *do* have powers, I don't know what 
exactly they are or how to use them.  So I don't know 
how much help I'd be in the first place.  On top of 
that, I still have a truck-load that I contracted to 
deliver to New Jersey (I think<g>).  I signed a 
contract to do that, and Walter Richard Shindell keeps 
his word.  But if you still think that I might be of 
some use, or can tell me how to use whatever powers it 
may be that I *might* have, well then I'll listen at 
least.  It's not that I *don't* want to help my 
country...I just don't know how exactly I could."

Walt looks around, trying to spot the two who tried to 
attack him.  "We might want to have a word with those 
two boys what tried to slug me.  I don't much mind 
about that, but maybe they can tell you why they got 
all goody-like just then."

"By the way...who or what exactly is Deathstorm?"

-Walt-

<><><><><>

[GM]

He stares at you. "You haven't been watching the 
news?"

At your blank look, he shakes his head. "Deathstorm is 
a super-terrorist who just killed almost a thousand 
people in Israel. The Israeli military couldn't stop 
him...he finally got beaten by another superhuman; an 
American, apparently. He's being kept in a drugged 
stupor by the Israelis right now."

"We already have a facility set up to study 
superhumans. We don't have a lot of data right now; 
there's only a few who have come forward to help us 
out. And it's been kept pretty secretive until now. 
But I know the scientists there would love to get 
another test subject...c'mon, that was a joke, more or 
less. They do have all kinds of tests they want to 
run, but obviously it's in our interests for the 
'subjects' to stay happy and healthy if we want you to 
help us fight the bad guys."

"Look, the facility is located in Virginia. That's 
almost on your way...assuming you absolutely have to 
finish this trip of yours. I guarantee, I can have a 
government contractor take your load the rest of the 
way for you, and make sure you get full payment."

"Sorry about the two agents who tried to rifle-butt 
you, but you were in the way, and while no one wants 
to hurt a little girl....well, you saw the kind of 
damage she can do. I don't know about this suggestion 
that you made them fall. Maybe you have a telekinetic 
talent yourself, but let's not start assuming that 
every odd thing that happens is due to some 
paranatural ability."

<><><><><>

Walt listens to the agent's sales pitch, patiently 
analyzing the words that he uses.  It *sounds* good, 
but a contract is a contract, and Walt was not about 
to renege on this one, regardless.  When the agent is 
through, Walt clears his throat, then speaks.

"Well sir, it sounds right nice, and I'll be more than 
willing to come by and let you run all sorts of tests 
on me...*after* I run this load to Jersey.  If it is 
"right on the way" then it won't matter if I just run 
this load out there myself."  Walt looks torn, but to 
him his duty is clear; the contract has to be 
completed before he could do anything else.  Then he 
would go to Virginia and see if the government could 
figure out what powers he might have.

"That's the best offer you'll get from me...give me 
the phone number and the address of that there 
research facility and I'll drop by after I haul this 
load to Jersey".  Walt then turns to Richard, kneeling 
down next to his slumped form to talk with him.  He 
lays a comforting hand on Richard's shoulder, trying 
to communicate his understanding.

"Richard, I have to get going now, but I wanted to 
talk to you before I left.  I have to haul this load 
on out to New Jersey, and then I'm going to go and see 
what this here "Research Facility" is all about.  If 
you want to come out to Jersey with me, thats OK; I'd 
welcome the company and you might be able to use some 
too.  If not, I'm not going to leave until I know what 
you're going to do.  Sounds hokey, I know, but somehow 
we're stuck in this together.  Either way, though, I 
promise you this much...we'll get her back to you, 
safe.  I don't know exactly how or when, but I'll do 
my darndest to see that it happens."

Walt turns back to the agents, standing up.  "Well, as 
soon as my friend Richard here decides what he's going 
to do, I'll be on my way.  The sooner that I get 
going, the sooner that I'll get to your place in 
Virginia".

-Walt-

<><><><><>

[GM]

Richard just shakes his head. "Why the hell would I 
want to go to New Jersey?" he asks. "I've got nothing 
there. Nothing here either." He seems in a state of 
deep depression- not surprisingly!

"We'll make sure he's all right," the government agent 
says. He hands you a business card, with his name 
(Special Agent John McHenry) and a phone number. "You 
can call collect."

<><><><><>

Walt pockets the card, claps Richard on the shoulder, 
and then heads through the crowds out toward the front 
lot of the medical center.  He shakes his head, amazed 
that it's only been a few minutes since he arrived.  
"Still was plenty of time to change things right 
proper, though" he muses, climbing up into the cab of 
his truck.  It feels good to be back in familiar 
surroundings after the craziness of the day.

"Well, ol' girl, what do you think?  Is ol' Walt one 
of them there 'supermen'?"  He runs his hand lovingly 
along the dash and interior, happy once again now that 
he's back in his element.  He fires up the engine, 
eyeballing the gauges to be sure that everything is 
still in working order.  That done, Walt checks the 
mirrors carefully, then signals and pulls out of the 
parking lot.  Next stop - New Jersey!

*****

Well, such long, relatively dull trips are the perfect 
time to think, and Walt has more than enough to think 
about!  He mulls over all that went on, over and over 
again, trying to remember everything that happened as 
closely as he could.  He also thinks about what he 
should do if he *does* have powers.  Along the way he 
picks of a few newspapers and magazines, trying to 
find out about the sorts of thigns that have been 
going on with "Deathstorm" and the like.  He really 
doesn't like what he sees; terrorism has always seemed 
to Walt to be the way of the coward and the villain.  
Having a beef with a government or a country is one 
thing, but Walt couldn't stomach taking it out on 
innocent bystanders, no matter which government or 
group it was that did the killing!

What he was left with was the sure belief that if he 
did have powers he had a responsibility to use them 
responsibly, and to try and do what good he could with 
them.  Like it or not, Walt was a "good" guy, and 
would act accordingly.  He felt good as he drove to 
Virginia, the cargo off his conscience now that it had 
been delivered (on time, to boot!).  Whatever was 
coming, Walt as free and clear to find out what it 
was, and deal with it as he thought best.

-Walt-

<><><><><>

[GM]

Well, you have a number, but not a location, in 
Virginia. When you call, someone answers with "4583." 
(The last four numbers of the phone number you 
called.) Not even a hello.

<><><><><>

Walt pauses for a moment, unsure of exactly how to 
respond.  Somehow he never thought that he'd be 
calling a top secret phone number in the dead of the 
night from a Maryland truckstop phone booth.  He'd 
also not really know what sort of answer he was going 
to get.  Somehow, he'd rather expected someone with a 
sort of German accent to answer with "hello, zis iz se 
top secret rezearch fazilty, how my I help you?"

"Um, well, I was given this here number by one of your 
agents, and I'm callin to find out where you all are 
at so that I can come by for a spell.  I'm Walt 
Shindell, and I was in Texas when the Medical Center 
exploded."

Walt waits for a reply, some directions, anything, so 
that he can head on to the facility.  By now his 
curiousity has gotten the better of him, and he is 
anxious to find out for himself.

-Walt-

<><><><><>

[GM]

There is a short pause, and then the voice says, 
"Could you hold on for a moment, please?"

After another, longer delay, a second voice comes on 
the line, but one you still don't recognize. "Mr. 
Shindell? My name is Dr. Lansing. Yes, we were told to 
expect you. Umm, are you still driving an 18-wheeler?" 
You confirm that you are. "Well, our facility is 
rather, ah, not public. We don't have too many big 
rigs driving in here. Could we arrange for you to 
leave your truck in a government lot in Washington, 
and drive you out here in a government car? Don't 
worry, it will be a secure lot, your truck will be 
safer than anywhere you could put it."

[I'm assuming he'll agree, albeit reluctantly. After 
all, you can't take your truck EVERYWHERE. <g> But if 
he seriously resists that idea, we'll redo the next 
part.]

The lot is indeed a secure one, with a fence and 24 
hour guards. There are mostly unmarked cars and vans, 
but a few cargo trucks and one other big rig.

Another man in one of those generic dark suits meets 
you and shows you a badge like the one you saw back in 
Dallas. He drives you out into the Virginia 
countryside, finally pulling off on a back road, 
driving into what looks like an ordinary large 
ranchhouse, sitting in the middle of a large tract of 
farmland.

<><><><><>

Walt feels like he's leaving his child at kindergarden 
for the first time as the government agent drives him 
away from the concentration camp-style parking area.  
But the sense of mystery, of the "unknown" has subtly 
began to infect Walt, and he is interested to see what 
happens next.  The silence of the agent and the 
innocuous appearance of the facility don't surprise 
him; after all, it would be *really* stupid to just 
hang out a sign that said "Top Secret Research 
Facility : Keep Out".

The fact that the facility is out in the countryside 
only makes him happier about the decision.  Walt had 
been raised on a farm, and though he enjoyed his work 
there was always part of him that missed the rolling 
hills and greenery of the countryside.  Maybe this 
wouldn't be so bad after all.  And if he *did* have 
powers of some sort, heck, he'd do what he could to 
help out.  He didn't much like the idea of sitting by 
while some super-powered maniac cut down the innocent 
bystanders.

Walt waits, allowing himself to be guided by the agent 
to whatever destination is awaiting him.

-Walt-

<><><><><>

[GM]

Inside, you meet a Dr. Kinnet, and Special Agent Lyle 
Mabe. Dr. Kinnet says he's one of the biologists 
working here. Mabe is one of the field agents. "Trying 
to recruit supers to help us against these dangerous 
lunatics, like the one that you met in Texas", he 
says.

Kinnet tells you that Dr. Culbrand is in charge of the 
facility, but he's with another newly discovered 
superhuman right now. Kinnet asks you to describe 
everything that happened, as best as you remember it. 
Then he tells you that they have an entire series of 
tests they'd like to run on you, starting with a 
standard physical, then various IQ and aptitude tests, 
all to get a "baseline" for you, and to compare it 
with the human standard. Then they can start testing 
for possibly hidden superhuman abilities.

While you talk, in a plush dining room (the interior 
of the facility still looks like a farmhouse, although 
many rooms are dominated by offices, and there are 
obviously large sections that aren't visible from the 
outside), another pair of men walk in. One is wearing 
a dark suit, like Mabe's and every other "field agent" 
you've met. The other is wearing a flannel shirt and 
jeans, and sports a short beard and mustache.

"Mr. Shindell, this is Jason Little. One of the first 
superhumans we recruited." The man in the flannel 
shirt holds out his hand. "Nahs ta meet yew," he says.

As your hands touch, he suddenly jerks, and you see 
sparks corruscate around him. He staggers backwards 
then falls to the ground, as smoke curls from his 
hair. His body twitches slightly.

"Oh Christ!" Mabe says. Kinnet runs to an intercom on 
the wall and says "Get medical up here now! Agent 
Little has had a...an accident."

<><><><><>

Walt appreciates the efforts of the doctor to explain 
what was going to be done and why; if this had started 
out as a "won't you step into the laboratory" kind of 
thing, then he might well have balked right then.

The house interests Walt as well, if to a lesser 
degree; it's the sort of place that his Mama might 
have liked to live in.  Big and pleasant to live in, 
but not created to be "artsy" or "elegant".  Walt 
thinks to himself that if he gets to stay here while 
they are examining him, then maybe this won't be so 
bad after all.  He smiles a greeting and readily 
offers his hand to Jason, feeling more and more at 
home with the sound of his "drawl".  Walt is really 
starting to relax...right up until they actually 
touch.

Walt stares at his hand and Jason with horrified 
fascination, unable to tear his gaze away from the 
awful sight.  "JESUS CHRIST!!," Walt swears, leaping 
back for a moment.  What was going on here?!?  Had 
*he* done that to Little?  It took a few moments while 
Walt's mental "gears" whirred madly, but he finally 
regains control.  Looking at the agents, he speaks.

"I *assume* that you all know CPR?  Well, then, help 
me!"  With that, Walt throws himself down nest to 
Jason and begins to check him to see what can be done.

-Walt-

<><><><><>

[GM]

The doctor grabs you. "No! Don't touch him!"

While Mabe and another man perform CPR, he says, "I 
have a theory..."

You're not that interested in theories, but they seem 
to have things under control, as best they can. 
Deciding that Jason can be carried, they lift him and 
carry him down a hall, with you and your introspective 
biologist following.

"According to reports we received from Dallas, you 
claimed that somehow you 'shut down' Legion, when you 
touched him. That suggests the ability to neutralize 
metahuman abilities, perhaps. Jason has the power to 
absorb and discharge electricity. If he was carrying a 
charge when you shook hands...well, you might have 
neutralized his power, and suddenly he had an electric 
charge in his body and not the power to hold onto it 
safely. You're lucky you weren't zapped yourself. For 
that matter, I know how big a charge Jason is 
*capable* of carrying....obviously this was a small 
one, or he'd have been incinerated."

<><><><><>

At first, all Walt feels is the shock and horror that 
*he* might have done this to another human being, 
especially one who had been nothing but friendly.  He 
follows along numbly, hearing but not really feeling 
up to responding.  Once they get Jason "started" 
again, he breaths an audible sigh of relief, glad that 
he hasn't been the cause (even accidentally) of 
another persons demise.  What the doctor has to say 
*is* interesting, but it doesn't answer for all of the 
things that went on in Dallas, though.

"So far I *think* I follow what your saying, doc, but 
there's something that just isn't covered by this 
theory of my being the metahuman equivalent of cadmium 
rods in a nuclear reactor.  What about the flying 
glass in the Medical Center.  I mean, it shredded 
those two agents, and messed up another fella real 
bad.  I was standing right next to him, and I didn't 
even get mussed.  I can't wait to see what you can 
find out, 'cause the only thing worse that having 
power like this is having it and not knowing what it 
is or how to control it!"

The incident with Jason has only firmed Walt's 
curiousity into resolve to find out all that he can 
about these powers and to learn to master them as 
quickly as he can.  One thing he absolutely does not 
want to do is hurt anyone else by accident!

"So, doc, when can we get started?"

-Walt-

<><><><><>

[GM]

"Well, let's start with the physical."

This proves to be a standard but very thorough exam, 
including blood tests. They tell you they're still 
trying to identify a genetic component, possibly a 
mutation, but haven't found one yet.

After that, you get to take a series of aptitude 
tests, measuring your IQ, various cognitive skills, 
and education. One of the scientists comments that 
some metahumans seem to experience an increase in 
intelligence after becoming superhuman. "Jason, in 
fact, was mentally retarded, until his powers 
manifested. Now his intelligence is well within the 
average range."

<><><><><>

For Walt, the physical is no big deal; he's probably 
had similar in order to get his "long haul" trucking 
certification.  As for the "genetic" component, it is 
Walt's completely non-scientific opinion that if it 
were genetic, wouldn't it have expressed itself 
*sometime* prior to this?  But he's just the "guinea 
pig" right now, and contents himself with observing 
what the researchers are in fact doing and trying to 
figure out what it is the tests are trying to measure.

"I reckon that if I get smarter 'cause of all this, 
well, that'd be ok" Walt says with a grin, some of his 
humor returning.  All of this is playing on the part 
of him that used to read comics, filling his head with 
"what if's".  He is anxious to find out what they have 
to say about what may have happened to him.

"So, doc," Walt says, when the battery of IQ/ability 
tests are completed, "what have you got for me?  And 
what's next?"

-Walt-

<><><><><>

[GM]

"Well," Dr. Kinnet says, "it doesn't look as if you've 
had a significant increase in intelligence." He is 
looking in a folder, while you remember that the last 
time you had an IQ test was junior high school. And 
somehow he has scores to compare with the tests you 
just took.

"Next we try to find out if you have any mental 
abilities."

What follows are a series of tests that seem mostly 
silly to you. Like out of one of those bad TV movies 
(which, come to think of it, Walt has probably never 
seen. <g>) They try to get you to read their minds. 
You can't guess what number or color they are thinking 
of, much less actually pick up on specific thoughts. 
They try to get you to levitate spoons, heat or chill 
water in a cup, and guess what shape is on the other 
side of cards they hold up. None of this works. Nor 
can you "sense" anything when they set some sealed 
boxes in front of you, or have you sit in front of a 
mirror (actually one-way glass, you realize) for about 
an hour.

Thoroughly bored, the first interesting thing happens 
when they have you roll dice. They ask you to try to 
control the results. Sure, you think. OK, sevens.

You roll a seven. Twice. Not bad, you think. A third 
time; seven.

Seven.

Seven.

Seven.

Seven.

Seven.

Seven.

Twenty times in a row before you finally roll a six.

Dr, Kinnet gets quite excited, although, he says, 
"This is really not my field, but we need to get one 
of our chaos theorists up here." He pulls out a coin 
and says "Call it!" as he flips it. You call heads. It 
comes up heads. "Call it!" he says again. You call 
heads again; heads again. Next time you call tails. It 
comes up tails. You try to randomly vary your choice 
each time he tosses it, and you win 47 out of 50.

You're surprised to find they actually have a slot 
machine in one of their labs. You play it several 
times, and hit jackpot four times in a row. (No money 
comes out, unfortunately.)

A skinny man with thinning black hair enters the lab 
and watches as you finally scratch on the slot 
machine. "They thought I was eccentric when I 
suggested they also test for probability 
manipulation," he says gleefully. "But there's always 
been evidence that certain people are luckier than 
others. You, my friend, are the sort of phenomenon 
those of us who work with chaos theory have always 
been looking for!"

<><><><><>

Walt shares the excitement that begins to grow with 
each passing "successful" call of the dice and the 
coin, but he also begins to feel confused.  He has 
been up until that point sort of assuming (for no 
particular reason) that this sort of thing tended to 
manifest as *one* power in most people.  "But what 
about the 'off switch' thing that I seem to do?  Is 
that just some kind of fluke of probability; the one 
in a 'zillion' chance that a power just wouldn't work?  
Or do I maybe have *two* powers...or more?"  Walt 
looks pensive; this is starting to take on larger 
proportions than he had been prepared for.

"Doc, what's to say that I'm not seein' what is gonna 
happen with the dice and the coin before it happens, 
rather than making it happen?  Or maybe I'm using some 
kind of TK to influence the result physically without 
knowing it?  can you get me an unopened deck of 
playing cards?"  Walt figures that being able to do 
the same thing with cards that you only turn over 
rather than toss or roll might be a little bit better 
"test" of this.

[David, what Walt is essentially going to do is draw 
off the top and try to "call" the hands that he wants.  
As far as I know, most decks come sealed in order, 
first by the suit and then by number, low to high.  
Walt will try to lay them out like this;  4 fours, 4 
sevens, 4 twos, 4 nines.  Then he will try for this; 
Spades; King, Ace, Queen : Clubs; Ace, King, Jack.  
The reason that he has asked for an unopened deck is 
that if none of the researchers know what the cards 
are going to be then he cannot be "reading" their 
thoughts to do this...if it works<g>!]

As a side thought, and to try and prove something to 
himself, Walt thinks about what the chances are that 
the light bulbs in this room would all burn out at the 
same time, right now.

-Walt-

<><><><><>

[GM]

Doctor Penn tells you, "It's not necessarily true that 
superhumans only have a single power. You may have a 
number of abilities, not necessarily related. We don't 
know. Of course, if you trace cause and effect to a 
deep enough level, nearly every possible 'super power' 
could be regarded as some kind of manifestation of 
psychokinesis. But there is no overt connection, for 
instance, between Deathstorm's ability to fly and his 
ability to conjure metallic projectiles out of thin 
air, or between Paladin's flight, superhuman strength, 
and invulnerability. All could be functions of a very 
versatile telekinetic ability, of course, but that 
doesn't quite explain how he can breathe in space; IF 
that particular claim of his is true."

"Your own power may be entirely based on probability 
manipulation, with the ability to cause superhuman 
powers to 'malfunction' against all likelihood. Or you 
may possess some means of directly suppressing 
superhuman abilities, and this other talent of 
yours....yes, it could well be telekinesis, working on 
a subconscious level. It will take some 
experimentation to find out."

The researchers didn't think to bring any decks of 
cards into the facility. They say they can get one 
though; it's an interesting experiment.

In the meantime, when you think about all the lights 
in the room burning out;

Pfft!

"Did you do that?" asks Dr. Kinnet, in the darkness.

<><><><><>

Walt smiles despite himself in the darkness; it was 
kind of childish, but he had just *had* to try 
*something*!  "Yeah, Doc, I think so.  Sorry, but I 
guess I just got real curious and wanted to try 
something.  I promise that I'll keep my "bright" ideas 
to myself next time; don't want anyone getting hurt 
jus' 'cus ol' Walt couldn't control himself!"  

Despite himself, he's pleased; the fact that it 
actually worked (or seems to have) gives him a subtle 
feeling of pleasure, a kind of impish satisfaction. He 
thinks back to how aunt Agnes used to rail against 
that the fact that Ma let her son read those "foolish, 
worthless" comic books and such.  But Ma had said that 
dreaming was one of the few things that boys could do 
that wouldn't get them in trouble or track mud into 
the house, and had let him go right on reading them.  
The idea that in one form or another it might be true 
tickled him somehow.

"So, Doc, once we find us a flashlight or somesuch, 
what then?"

-Walt-

<><><><><>

[GM]

Someone gropes their way to the door, and you head out 
into another room. Where you are introduced to two 
more men; Dr. Culbrand, who is in charge of the 
research division, and Harvey Jones.