condition: lost and blind

thefez groans in disgust and pushes a pile of paper placemats and and used napkins away from his face. Climbing out of the dumpster he feels each and every bruise from his thrill ride down the disposal chute.

"Send him out the back way.", as Mr. Fist had put it. The operation was a success, though thefez wouldn't know it by the bleary, over-exposed world he gazed onto now. In a few days his vision would clear and become, well, not only better but quite remarkable to the point that he would be able to vaguely recognize objects and movement even through solid walls. Yes, in a few days he would see quite well and the digital code burnt into the edge of his retina ("You can't train a horse without reigns", said Mr. Fist) would be unnoticeable. But now his eyes burned. He was blind, stinking of garbage, and stumbling out of an alley in Windsor, Canada. He was an agent now.

His next move did not concern him. This was going to be a long night, no doubt. But as he climbed out of the dumpster feeling the first stiffening of his bruised muscles and the stinging in his eyes, the only thing in his mind was Sam the Butcher. He pulled his collar up and with one hand guiding him along the wall headed toward the noise of the street

"You're one dead mother fucker, Sammy"