From Unofficial Handbook of the Virtue Universe

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All it takes is a touch
Phaseview
Player: @Santo.
Origin:	Mutant
Archetype:	Blaster
Security Level:	'
Personal Data
Real Name:	Zane Maddox
Known Aliases:	'
Species:	Human
Age:	28
Height:	6'5"
Weight:	186lbs
Eye Color:	Blue
Hair Color:	Brown
Biographical Data
Nationality:	American
Occupation:	Former FBI
Place of Birth:	'
Base of Operations:	'
Marital Status:	Single
Known Relatives:	Deceased
Known Powers
Pschometry and Telekinisis
Known Abilities
Marksman, Profiler, Crime Scene Analyst, Investigator
Equipment
Two Beretta 92FS
'

Fractured Visions of the Past

The alarm went off. 2 AM... the first reprieve from the never ending dream. Everynight it came without fail. The night of his accident. It had been pure chance that he saw the man exit the convenience store.....

Zane was putting gas in his car for the drive back to his burea paid apartment after a long day in the field when he caught sight of the suspect. He knew him immediately from the bolo, wanted for serial killings here in Denver. The man was preying on hikers on the mountains, the women were raped and murdered and the men... the men were lucky to have a face when this deviant was done with them. Zane replaced the cap on his gas tank and drew his side arm. He began to move towards the suspect when a family walked out the store. The mother screamed seeing Zane's weapon as he called out "FBI" it was enough warning for the unsub to throw his car in gear and begin to speed away. Zane ran to his car as he gave chase called in for assistance. There was a light wet snowfall just beginning to descend as he accelerated, the flakes bursting into micro explosions of water on his winshield. The suspect was running for the mountains and the road became winding and thin as it ascended the terrain. Their speed was approaching 80mph and it took all of Zane's focus to keep his vehicle from swerving on the pavement, his fists white knuckled on the wheel, his arms locked and rigid, the muscles straining. The came the flash of blinding light as the unsub's vehicle went into a spin and the headlights seered across Zane's eyes. His head jerked away in instinct and when he looked back the other car was spinning towards his. He jerked the wheel hard to the side as the sound of metal colliding and glass shattering screamed in his ears. There was a moment of all consuming pain and then...blackness...

The covers were thrown off and his bare feet touched the floor. A faint sheen of sweat glistened on his muscles and he moved to the bathroom of his loft apartment, the light making him squint as it sprung into existance. Zane absently wet a cloth and ran it over himself as he looked at the face in the mirror. It still wasn't the face he remembered. This face was older then the one from the dream. Three years he had been in the coma. Zane was 29 but in his mind he was still 26, that should be the face looking back at him. He grabbed a glass and filled it with water and then opened the medicine cabinet. It was filled with medications, most prescribed for his headaches after the accident but there were others a former FBI agent had no business keeping. The sad part was most of those had been prescribed too, by the government doctors to keep him and his gift sharp. He popped the top on the only pills he used nowadays besides aspirin, but for some reason he just couldn't throw away the rest. The caffine pills were swallowed and he made his way into the open area of the loft, bare feet silent on wooden floors. He didn't bother dressing, it would only be an hour or so and then he could sleep for another two perhaps.

He sat on the sofa and looked at his guns on the coffee table, waiting for him and this time every night. He picked up one of the Berettas and began to break it down. The oilcloth was nearby and he began the most horrible hour of his day. As he touched the pieces, set aside the firing mechanism, his hands were rock steady though he was trembling inside. For as he handled the guns his gift would flare to life. The visions would stream without reason or rhyme. The first time he fired the gun.. a time still to happen when he would be forced to shoot someone with the weapon. Every bullet...past and future... he saw them all happpening. Faces he knew and others he would come to know.. falling by his hands and from his convictions. It was the same whenever he went into a fight. As soon as he felt the grips against his skin he could see every shot he was about to fire and the possibilites that could ensue. He saw multiple realities and outcomes as the battle raged about him and every shot fired chnaged the visions. At the end of every encounter his hands would be trembling as the guns were holstered and the headaches came. The first gun was finished and he took a deep steading breath as he reached for the second one. He remembered the first vision...the day he awoke from his coma....

Zane was sitting in his hospital bed when a fellow agent named Keith walked in. Zane was a little surprised he was there as he had expected his partner Harry would be the first to greet him. Keith's smile was happy yet strained as he took Zane's hand and the whole world spun out of control...

Zane was with Keith.. he was seeing the events as if being on a movie set, an idle observer who could see, hear, smell everything but without any acknowledgement of his prescence. They were all there, many of the agents from the office including Harry. Vests with FBI in white letters garbed all the torsos. It was a tip on a terrorist cell, possibly heavily armed and planning a strike at the Denver airport. Keith was to remain as the second line with the sharpshooters and Harry led the 5 other agents into the building. Shots were fired almost immediately and the air echoed with the sharp reports and many voices yelling commands. Then the air burned as the ground heaved under Keith's feet as the building exploded, mortor and flaming cinders faling from the sky....

Zane met Keith's eyes and jerked his hand away, not sure what had just happened. The he sat in shocked silence as Keith told him how Harry died in the line of duty, describing everything Zane had just witnessed in the blink of an eye. After that the visions came more and more. One touch that was all it took. He seriously doubted his sanity in those early months but soon the evidence was irrefutable. He looked down at his hands, memories fading into the background and realized he had finished with his task. The guns lay before him, pristine and ready to be used and he hated them. The caffine pills only aided for this hour and they would allow him to wake up in another two. That was what it came to.. sleeping in two hour shifts.. making himself wake up because he was scared one night he wouldn't. Zane lost 3 years of his life and everynight he laid down wondering if he wouldn't be him again in the morning. That he would be back in that eternal darkness.. lost ...with no body..screaming silently for someone to wake him up. He sighed deeply and rose heading back to his bed, the sweat soaked sheets should have dried by now. Zane's eyes stared at the ceiling before finally closing as the exhaustion caught him once more.

The alarm went off. 6 AM... another reprieve from the never ending dream......