If I was going to die, I was going to do it my way. That’s what the agency just didn’t seem to understand. They were blind if they thought most of the recruits weren’t making their own decisions once they had reached the point of origin. At one point the agency had control over every thought that passed through our minds. To them we were just robots ready to comply with every demand. All they had to do was press a button and we were under their control. From the electrons wired into my brain I literally had no other choice but to oblige.

“Shoot him!” screamed the voice in my head. I closed my eyes and tried to remember what James had taught me; feel the currents coming through the electrons, and put up the walls. I imagined the bricks building up one by one, blocking the electrons from entering my brain. Before James, none of us had any idea that it was even possible to stop their control. He had been the only recruit to ever escape the agency and he had been rogue for years now, he was also the love of my life. He had taught us how to fight their control and our un-breakable bind with the agency. There were two ways to break our bind, kill our agent, or block the electrons in our mind. Both were nearly impossible, but killing our agent took much less time and pain for us. Although James took the hard way out by blocking the electrons, he had still trained us in both ways. The agency was soon to have a full-scale rebellion on their hands if all went as planned.
The trembling in my hands started and I reached toward the gun in my belt. I gripped onto the wall behind me to no avail. He was so close I could feel his breath on my neck; all I had to do was pull the trigger. I had to fight the urge to kill otherwise I would never forgive my self. “Now!” the voice screamed again. No, I thought as hard as I could even though I knew they couldn’t hear me. I couldn’t do this, killing him would be like shooting a hole through my own heart. “Scar, what is it?” asked James quietly while watching me intently. I gritted my teeth as my hand slipped my gun out of its holster. “What are you doing?” he whispered putting a hand over mine “you can fight it.” His lips met mine and for a moment everything around us fell away. I wish it could be like this forever but I knew it was hopeless. “Now,” the voice growled again. I pulled my lips apart from his and leaned forward until our foreheads were touching. I brought my arm up in between our chests and looked him in the eye as a tear rolled down my cheek. “I’m sorry,” I whispered, and I pulled the trigger.