For a moment, Jason stood on the tarmac, duffel bag over his shoulder, watching the oh-so-important Verification agent walk off to his car. He inhaled deeply, taking in the hot summer wind, the smell of... well. Jet fuel and diesel, probably, frankly everything smelled terribly at this point. But the view... was amazing.

Approaching the airport terminal, everything just looked and felt like home. Granted, that mostly meant that about half of the people were overweight and arrogant, but then, he had been known to be a bit of an arrogant bastard himself over the years. Despite... a long series of stupid decisions. Why hadn't he ever really thought of them that way before?

Entering the terminal, everything looked.. different. He had been expecting more detail. Maybe being able to see someone's face from behind. But no... looking at the man beside the entrance, a fat old idiot in shorts and a hawaiian shirt, he could see.. after-images. As if he had just yanked the man's toupee off. Or yanked his shorts down. Or grabbed his wallet. He was presented with a whole assortment of unwanted visuals of the lack of underwear, the hideous rash on the bald head, and the man's ID; it seemed to keep going in and out of focus, but he could even read off the numbers... and see what would happen if he tripped the man.

This... didn't quite feel like ESP the way he'd heard it described. Sure, he could see under the man's clothes. That was to be expected. But... when the man jerked in surprise at a message over the PA system, then saw Jason; and gave a jerk of disgust at the look of him... he'd somehow known all of it would happen seconds before... and even... turned his head away.

The man never made that jerk of disgust. He never saw Jason's face... or the hideous green eyeball currently embedded in his forehead that Jason had stared at for a solid half-hour in the bathroom mirror.

That... Jason stepped forward and leaned against a wall, covering his face. In every direction, he could see people moving nearby. And... what they would do if he tripped them. Or took a swing. Just thinking about possibilities would give him an image of what could happen. Was this... was he predicting the future? Or did his imagination just become much more vivid?

Easy. Test it out.

He turned to one of the gates, where the plane was currently unloaded... and thought about who was about to leave the plane. A shadowy image of the line of people emerging; some at a slow walk, others trying to push their way through the crowd... there. A pretty girl in a black dress with some amusing cat-ear microphones on emerged. He opened his eyes.

At first, disappointment. The next person to emerge was probably a stewardess; cute, but no black dress, no orange carry-on bag, no cat-ears. But... that disappointment faded almost instantly. Just a few seconds later, the girl in the black dress emerged. He found that he could predict each person emerging a few seconds before they emerged, eyes open or not... and even what they would do. Except that a few were noticing him staring, a bit perturbed by the weirdo with three eyes. Okay. Time to go.

Jason turned from the terminal gate, looking at the wall; he'd never been in Dulles before, needed to find parking; apparently they'd stored his car for him. Oh! They'd left his keys with security. Checking the map again... and avoiding looking at people too long to try to keep from drawing too much attention.. he headed to the security office. Easy enough.

****

"You need some keys for a oh god what is..." The woman in the TSA uniform was suddenly taken aback when she looked up at his face... and then stopped, controlling herself. "Okay, sorry, sir. They actually passed us the keys for a Mustang up in the parking garage for you. And... my boss left a note that when you showed up, he'd like to speak with you? Apparently you were planning to apply for a job?" She seemed a bit confused, but then, it wasn't every day a three-eyed man showed up at your door.

The security gate opened smoothly when she passed him through. "I can hold onto your bag for you if you'd like, sir?" He glanced back.. and nodded, setting his bag down. "Thanks, Irma. Appreciated. Back through here?" "First door on the left, sir. He's expecting you, just not sure on the time."

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After a few moments, he'd found the right office, knocking on the door; a rotund man with more rolls than a typical sumo and a desk cluttered with hundreds of randomly scattered papers was busily typing away at a computer; only to glance up when Jason entered. "Ahh! Our soldier come home. Come on in, have a seat! I can have Irma bring you a drink?"

"Oh, no, sir. Gotta drive after this, they have my car waiting for me."

"Of course! Pretty thing. Red mustang. Why do so many servicemen end up with those?" He pulled a set of keys from one of his drawers, and tossed it to Jason; who smoothly caught it and pocketed it... clearly seeing the arc the keys would follow long before it was thrown.

"I... honestly, it made sense at the time. But looking back... probably should've gotten something else. Still. Irma said you wanted to talk, mister...?"

"Ahh! You can call me Rory. Rory Rollins, Director. So anyways, they told me you have ESP, right? Can see stuff on the other side of a wall, with the eyes closed, all that? And you're looking for work? Go ahead and sit down, man."

Jason blinked. It felt strange to blink. The third eye wasn't quite in sync with the others.... but he sat down regardless. Was he still considering the TSA? Surely being able to see a few seconds into the future would be worth more, might get him onto a combat team... but... best to keep his options open. After he sat down, he leaned forward. Focused on the desk. What would he see if he pulled out those drawers?

"In your desk drawers, you have a red swingline stapler, a box of paperclips in rainbow colors, sticky notes in the shape of a Dallas Cowboys logo, a collection of toy guns, and a variety of knives. I'm gonna guess collected contraband?"

Rollins laughed. "Of course. I keep a few things. Trinkets, keepsakes, that sort of thing. If its got special value I like to lock it up and see if I can get it back to the owner; if they pay shipping, I'm usually good with that. But... I'm sure you can imagine how handy someone that can search a bag... or a person... without actually touching them would be in our line of work? Do you need to... see them with that third eye?"

"Oh, no. Works with the eyes closed. Actually... can I borrow a hat from you?" When Rollins reached back into a filing cabinet behind himself and withdrew an old, battered, Dallas Cowboys baseball cap, Jason shook his head, hiding his grimace as he put it on.. and while he was touching Rollins's hand, checked his pockets. Or, well. Imagined checking his pockets; just thinking about it seemed to do the job.

"And of course, you've got a West Virginia driver's license, a concealed revolver with five bullets in it, and, well. I'm not going to pry further." He did his best to avoid even thinking about what he would find if he tore open the man's shirt, but much like the stereotypical pink elephants, it was impossible to ignore.. and unfortunately, looking away didn't help.

Rollins nodded, smiling. "Great! I know that you're gonna be getting other offers in, but I'd love to bring you on the team. Military experience, ESP... I can start you out at 150K, 20K sign-on bonus if you stay past three months."

Jason thought about his pay in the military. His prospects if he went back home. If the TSA was paying this, what would the DoD pay him if... well. "Thats... very generous. I haven't really started searching yet; my 'Case Officer' from the DMA actually just kinda sent you the message for me, and I've only been out of the military for... the flight home. I... mind if I take your card, get back to you tomorrow?"

Rollins burst to his feet with an energy that seemed impossible for someone of such girth, shaking the desk and scattering the papers further. A hand went out, sliding a card; and when Jason took the card, taking a firm hold, shaking it. "Not at all, son! I just want you to think, before you go. About how many possible terrorists, criminals, you could stop if you worked for me. Just another way to serve your country, right?"

Jason was mildly startled at the sudden energy; but then, he probably had to be dedicated to get this job, right? Or maybe just a political appointment. After a few minutes of absurd comments about pride and country, he managed to squirm his way out the door, collect his bag from Irma... and, cap making him far less conspicuous, work his way through the crowd towards the parking garage.

Time to collect his car.. check out this apartment that twerp got for him.. and see about starting his life over. Did he really want to live here in Washington? This.. should have appealed to him. He wanted to live over here before. But somehow, even looking at the car he'd been so excited about when he bought it... the old him seemed like an idiot.

He laid his hand on the roof of the Mustang. Red. Shiny. Apparently someone had washed it before taking it into the garage. He didn't even like red now. Reminded him too much of blood. His own. His friends. This... He knew why Sheila had left him.

He climbed into the seat, laid back and stared at the roof of the car. He'd bought it just before being deployed. Still had that new car smell, and a faint hint of whoever's cigarettes had brought it here. His whole life up until the moment he made his suicide charge into that building seemed like a lie. He should never have done that. None of that.

What had changed? Was he smarter now? Did this mutation make him think more clearly, as well as let him see things he shouldn't? Or had that tank shell been the hit that finally knocked some sense into him?