Blinded

Part Four

//Jamie.// Brad caught himself talking to his brother in his head as they placed the four pots of ashes into their places. Before him stood a wall, divided into many small squares, each no larger than the size of a notebook. Each square was actually a little door to a small compartment within the wall, where a pot of ash was placed. On each door, there was a black and white photograph of the deceased, with the name and dates written underneath. There were hundered of such compartments in this wall. The four Crawfords were next to each other in a row, surrounded by hundreds of Chinese and other people who followed this custom.

//Jamie. I shouldn't have kept them to myself so long. Now I'm returning them to you.//

The cremation was done according to Mr. Potts' suggestion that since Jamie and Harriet were cremated, he should do the same to his parents too. Brad himself did not care if it was a burial or cremation or dumping the bodies into the sea because those were only dead bodies. He only followed through the funeral because it had to be done, and he would rather put the ashes here than at home.

They were all worried. The family friends, his own friends, the doctor, even the police officer who he had befriended were worried about him being so emotionless through the whole event. Not a single tear or a word of anguish came from Brad.

"Hey man, I don't know what I can do, but let me know if you need any help, yeah?"

"Don't worry about me, Glyn." Brad whispered, playing his part of the berieved. "I never loved them, to be honest. I'm just not used to being on my own."

With all the freedom, with people who saw what he really was worth, and ready to offer something in exchange. It was going be a big change.

Glyn patted Brad on the shoulder. "I know, superman. Just let me say that and sound like I'm a good friend, okay?"

"You've let me stay at your place for the week, that's enough help already." Brad finally looked at his friend for the first time since the funeral began. "But if you really want to, you can help me clean up."

"Clean up?" Glyn cocked his head.

"You think the cops will mop the floor for me?" Brad smiled a little at Glyn's face, which had gone several shades paler than usual. "I think it's all dried. I'll get someone to dig out the floorboards."

In the end, Brad had the master bedroom redecorated, gave everything that was not his to the local charity - to maintain his good image - and sold the house, moving into a smaller, but much more modern apartment.

Very few people got to look at his home. It was his own haven, and anything that was less than beautiful - people included - could not get in, to an extent that some of the furniture was imported overseas, and some Brad himself commissioned to be made. His bedroom, in particular, was a sanctuary. That meant nobody ever stepped on the hardwood floor of the room or touched his bedsheets.

It was difficult to find beautiful women. Pretty ones were everywhere, they preened themselves, swung out their feathers for him like peacocks, but they never were good enough. There were guys too, a few from university who plucked up enough courage to approach him, but Brad never gave them a thought, perhaps simply because he thought they were not beautiful enough to deserve him.

Glyn hung out in Brad's home a lot. He copied Brad's work for university, rented videos to watch at weekends, talked about women, cars, and did everything else people of their age did. Brad knew that Glyn practically worshipped him. He also knew Glyn harboured some mixed feelings for him, since before they went to university. He did not mind that, what Glyn wanted to feel was his choice. In fact, he rather enjoyed this dangerous equilibrium. To Brad, seeing Glyn make excuses to himself to hang out together; helping him to get the girl that had the same hair and skin colour as Brad himself did; and sometimes seeing Glyn catches himself staring at him was as thrilling as one felt when a rollercoaster was about to start.

Whether Brad would enjoy the ride was a completely different matter, and Brad had no intention of riding at all.

Brad did feel sorry for Glyn though, because as soon as university was over, he disappeared on him without a word of goodbye and went straight to the Bavarian Alps, where the headquaters of Rosenkreuz were located. Neumann and the other agents did go easy on him through the years, but it was inevitable that Brad would fall into their hands, because they were too powerful to fight. It might be as well that Brad went to them willingly to save himself some personal injuries. Knowing when to fight and when to retreat had always been one of his strong points.

He did send the key to his home to Glyn though, if that was any consolation to the blonde. He could finally see the bedroom if he wanted to, the bedroom of Brad, someone who no longer existed.

From the point he entered Rosenkreuz, Brad was no more. He became Crawford.

Crawford looks at Schuldich suspiciously when a waitress walks over and puts more tea on the table. Schuldich just grins back, gesturing for his companion to enjoy his tea.

//Hey, about Glyn... He's the guy I saw in...?//

//Same person.//

//Thought so.//

Momentary silence falls as Crawford drinks his tea.

//You were... twenty-one, right?// Schuldich drums his fingers on the table. //With a loaded bank account and university education. Che.//

//They were lighter on me than on you in some ways, but you know that's not why.// Crawford tastes the tea. Not the same as the one earlier. What Schuldich "ordered" is fruit tea. Tastes rather nice.

Schuldich just snorts as if he does not care.

//I'm good at getting myself out of trouble, but you love getting into it.// The American muses. //And they're harder on you because your power's more valuable. It can do more than mine, you know it.//

//Oh dear leader, I never thought I'd live to hear you say that.// The redhead laughs. //Oh wait, I'm dead.//

Crawford bites his lips to suppress a smile.

//Anything interesting that happened to you in Rosenkreuz?//

//Define 'interesting'.//

//Tell me something about Rosenkreuz that I don't already know.//

All different "branches" of powers come down to the same thing. Like at a crossroads, one can get to the centre from all different paths. And the closer one gets to the centre, the closer one is to the other paths too.

Precognition, telekinesis, telepathy, psychometry, empathy, even more subtle powers of instinct and deja vu, all of these eventually converge to one super power. Most paranormals can exhibit a small degree of telepathy, by projecting their thoughts directly to a telepath. Strong telepaths are always capable of empathy. Empaths can become telepaths. Given time and training, powers can grow and paranormals will obtain more abilities.

No one fully understand the nature of telekinesis and teleportation, not even those with the power themselves. Is it the melting and reforming of matter, or the summoning of spirits to move matter? Does teleportation involves time travel? Rosenkreuz was deeply involved in the research of finding the answers and exploiting the power.

Precognition is more than a gift of sight. It is the tracing of decisions of people before they are aware of them, putting a finger on the trail until the precognitive finds the result of those decisions. It is a battle of will-power. As long as the precognitive is stronger in will, he can trace the decisions that lead to the result. Like instinct, the process may not be a concious one, but a good precognitive always knows how to use the future to his advantage. The challenge to the precognitive comes when he meets someone who has a stronger will than himself, someone who can break the "chain of command".

That was the first thing Crawford learned in Rosenkreuz. The second was that Neumann was his first challenge as a precognitive.

Each paranormal was given a tailored training package. For Crawford, life was not as bad as the others experienced in the organisation, mostly because he already possessed many properties that Rosenkreuz wanted all their agents to develop: disrespect to human life, strong physique, good emotional control and the grace of a killer.

Those agents who were not as strong as Crawford were less lucky. And those who disobeyed were given a chance to reflect in cells, or in metal boxes no larger than the size of coffins.

Neumann was responsible for Crawford's progress. He was the "talent scout" who spotted the American in the first place, and the one who bought time for him, so to speak, so that Crawford only entered Rosenkreuz at twenty-one. Rosenkreuz had their hands on most other agenst before they were ten. Despite that, Crawford could develop no other feelings for Neumann except a deep distaste, because even though Neumann was a truely beautiful man - and Crawford was ready to admit to that - he was irritating.

If that was a trait found in every mind reader, Crawford was not sure.

His days consisted of power training, physical training, language classes, backing up the SS on the field, blood tests, cells sampling and avoiding Neumann, which was unsuccessful most of the time despite being aided by precognition. Neumann's training class always pushed his mind to the extremes, leaving him almost paralysed for at least a day afterwards.

"You'll thank me later." It was what Neumann always said afterwards, when Crawford finally collapsed with a terrible migraine, colours and sounds filling his head as if he was inside a giant bell which had just been struck. Neumann would then carry Crawford to the infirmary, letting him rest for several days before more mind training.

"You'll thank me later." Neumann said again, leaving Crawford to the doctors' care. "You will."

"I don't see that happening in the future." Crawford groaned, his eyes staying closed to shut out the light. It hurt too much.

Neumann gave that soft laughter of his that was full of joy and without wickedness. "You're right. I'm not the precog. But I know you will."

Crawford just told him to get out, which drew gasps from the doctors and nurses. Neumann laughed more and went away.

"Neumann has high hopes for you." One of the doctors, an old man with silver-white hair, told him later. Crawford eyed him, gesturing for him to continue. "For almost ten years he had been talking about the child he found in America. He was very excited about you. He still is now."

Crawford just looked at the doctor expressionlessly. In his memory, during his brief encounters with Neumann over the years, the man had always maintained a business-like attitude. "Ten years? Isn't he about my age?"

"I believe he's twenty-four. He does look younger than that, though."

Crawford quickly did a mental calculation. Ten years ago, he was eleven. Neumann was fourteen. He had been recruiting for Rosenkreuz at fourteen years-old.

The doctor did not need telepathy to know what Crawford was thinking. "Neumann's one of the most influencial figures here now. I believe he was here since the age of five. We called him by his first name then."

Was Crawford supposed to be honoured?

"... What's Neumann's first name?"

//My name's Niklas.// Warm laughter ran in his mind, and Crawford noticed Neumann had been eavesdropping on him. //I'd allow you to call me that, Bradley.//

//Get out.// Crawford spat, slamming his mental barriers down. He knew it was not much use against the powerful telepath, especially he was only beginning to learn how to shut others out of his head.

//Ouch!// Neumann cried out, as if in pain. //Fine, I'll leave you alone for a few days.//

The doctor seemed to have noticed the shift of attention in his young patient, and knew what was going on. When Crawford finally let out a sigh, he handed him some painkillers. "I'm not saying this now because we can be heard, but you truly are a lucky one."

"How so?"

"Just ask around. There is no agent in Rosenkreuz who doesn't want Neumann to be their supervisor." The doctor looked at Crawford incredulously, his expression one of don't-tell-me-you-don't-know-this. "You're now guaranteed well treatment and good training."

"Good training." Crawford repeated, his mind drifting back to the training session that just had him sent to the infirmary.

"Believe him when he said you'll thank him. You have no idea what state the agents are in when they come back after being attacked by a telepath." The doctor said in disgust. "The mind training Neumann gives almost guarantee immunity to other telepaths, because by far he is the strongest we know of. Although I did hear that they've found another one who has great potential."

It was Schuldich.

//Lucky you.// Schuldich pouts, his voice childlike. Even he likes Neumann. How Crawford could find Neumann annoying at first is beyond him. //No wonder you lived through Rosenkreuz that easily. Ah, I miss Niklas.//

//He did seem to have a particular attachment to us. Nagi also, during his brief time in Rosenkreuz.// Crawford says. Neumann never let anyone else call him by his given name. Having Neumann on his side when he worked on putting Schwarz together made life much easier too.

Schuldich puts his elbow on the arm of the couch, his palm supporting his chin. He knows why. Neumann and him felt, and he still feels, the same thing towards the American. It is the charisma. It is like a lighthouse to the telepaths. A bright light that gives them directions when they are lost in their own power.

Niklas Neumann. The same man found Schuldich too, in their home country. He was sixteen. Neumann was twenty-four. The older man swept him in his arms right away and helped him control his powers, but shifts in divisions and groups meant Schuldich ended up with another group months later. From then on, Rosenkreuz had been hell.

Neumann mentioned to him about an American once, about how he thought the two of them would work together and balance each other out in a way Neumann himself could not for the American. Neumann even once confessed that his love for that American was so great he could not bear to be near him. He was a very tragic, romantic man who knew where his place was with Crawford and did not dare to step out of line.

"Precognition is about will-power. They can only foresee the result and act accordingly. Telepaths can bend minds and manipulate the process that leads to the results. Ours is a stronger gift, Schu. It's more advanced. But precognitives have better control and can do more. That's why we can never bend the minds of precognitives. That's why I think you'll work with him well. You will balance each other out."

"And you?"

"I know my place."

Schuldich glances at Crawford out of the corners of his eyes, smiling a little mischievously. He bets Crawford never knew.

//Niklas treated Nagi and I well because we'd be of use to you.// The German murmured. //I think he was close to developing clairvoyance, but he knew that only because he knew you.//

Crawford takes a moment to digest the words.

//Come on, you like Niklas more than you let on. And I say it now because you can't kill me!// Schuldich pulls a face at him.

//He gave me your name and told me to look for you when I need a telepath. But that wasn't until a year afer I left Rosenkreuz. He vanished since then.//

Crawford left Rosenkreuz, the training ground of SS, two years later as a full fledged SS agent working mainly in Asia with Neumann and Silvia Lin, a Chinese telekinetic. They acted as contacts between SS and the traders of drugs in Hong Kong and chemical weapons in mainland China, occasionally terminating entire groups of triads, which could have a headcount of over five hundred, if necessary. It was control through absolute fear. They were a legend of terror to the traders.

"I hate this job." Neumann said once, entering Crawford's room in the hotel suite. He caught himself, recalling that the American did not like anyone stepping into where he slept. "Ah. Is it okay?"

"Come in." Crawford was at the desk, typing up a report for the SS. "What about the job?"

"It's more about the life. I don't like hotels." Neumann found a place at the windowsill to sit. The darkness of the room made his tanned skin seem even darker, and his eyes shone. "On my last job I at least had a proper house."

"You shouldn't be on this job in the first place." Crawford replied, shutting his computer. "At a rank like yours, you could be at the headquarters moving agents around like chess pieces."

Neumann chuckled, a hand went up to run through his short, curly sun bleached hair. "I have my reasons."

"What reasons, Nik?"

"Top secret. But I think I'll need to transfer soon." The light in his eyes flickered. "When you need another telepath, look for a kid called Schuldich in the Hamburg branch. Remember this."

Neumann transferred a week after the conversation. Crawford had not seen him since then.

//Niklas didn't transfer. He was forced to go back to the HQ.//

//Why?// This is news to Crawford, even though it happened many years ago.

//Nobody's supposed to know this, but he told me.// Schuldich sighs. //The geriatrics didn't like him being so attached to you. They usually wouldn't give a flying fuck, but Neumann had a high ranking, they couldn't allow him to do field work like that. So they threatened him and made him go back.//

Crawford is surprised. A rare thing to happen to a precognitive. //They threatened to...//

//Terminate you.// Chin still in his palm, Schuldich looks away from Crawford again, to stare at the outside. He has spilled Neumann's secret. Hopefully he will not be mad at him for that. //So now you know.//

Several minutes passes without any words being exchanged. Schuldich wonders what Crawford is thinking. Perhaps what he would have done, if anything, if he knew all this at the time.

//Let's go.// Suddenly, Crawford seems to have reached a conclusion of some kind. Most likely that there is no use thinking about it now.

//Ah. Okay.// The German follows Crawford out. //So... there was just you and Silvia left? That's when you went to Switzerland.// He grins knowingly.

//For a weekend, after a job that almost screwed up because that woman wouldn't listen to my visions.//

//Typical. Let's move on, I don't want to hear about that bitch.//

//I requested to have another job where I don't have to work with someone who wouldn't work with me.//

//And they gave you Schwarz.//

//Yes.//

[to be continued]

Author's note: I'm getting to the Scwharz part, finally! A lot more had happened between Crawford and Jamie, Glyn and Neumann (the poor man only got 1/2 a chapter's worth), of course, but they aren't characters anybody's familiar with, and if I write them all out, you might be bored to death already. If you like these Mary Sue's, there will be a few side stories for them, hopefully. As for now, we move on to those we're all familiar with, starting with Schuldich!