Janice, from the CIA needs to talk to you

I stood in the doorway of my dimly lit office across from the perfectly dressed, petite woman. I studied her closely. Her black coat was neatly folded over the arm of her chair. She sat with her legs tightly together in her black pencil skirt and her back perfectly straight on the front of the chair. A black blazer hung over her white blouse. Along with her posture, her neatly made-up face gave nothing away. The only tell on her was the tiny flag on her lapel.

Her credentials sat in a leather wallet on my desk in front of her, along with a file marked "sensitive."

She watched me intently with just her eyes as she waited for me to take my seat.

"Mr Doe, we know what you're doing here."

I gulped as I ran through my tax filings in my head, wondering if I'd missed one.

I saw a tiny smirk in the corner of her lip. "No. Do I look like I'm here to talk about taxes?"

Ruling out my messy tax filings meant it was the worse option: the government knew about my 'experiments'. "What are you here to talk about?"

"Please don't waste my time, Sir. We've been watching you since your college experiments. As you can imagine, we don't let dangerous skills like yours go unobserved."

I frown.

"I'll cut to the prudent part. We have a program for people like you. We can't let people like you roam the country with no accountability. We value your skills, but we need to control them."

"Control? What are you saying? I have rights!" I stand up, anxious and threatened.

She barely moved, calmly turning her neck to face me before she continued, "So did poor Tara Jones, and ... all the others." She gestured at the file. "If they were to testify in court, you'll be facing much worse than anything I'll do."

"I erase--," I paused, not wanting to incriminate myself any further. "Tara has no ill will towards me. She can't testify to something that didn't happen."

"We know what you can do. I think seeing a video of herself would persuade her."

I start pacing, clicking my fingers nervously. If they do have a video, I am in trouble.

She glances down at my fingers as I click them. "Here are your options: you either work for me, indefinitely, or we have **** but to let justice take its course. Either way, as far as I'm concerned, I've done my job and you're under control."

The idea of being under control lit a fire under my skin. "Control?" I turned to face her. "You know nothing of control."

"I think you'll find --" She coughed as if something was caught in her throat. "I --" Her eyes widened and she stopped speaking as she felt her body stiffen up involuntarily. She said, hoarsely, "there will be consequences if you don't stop this."

I stepped around the desk and gestured for her to stand up. Predictably, she did exactly as I asked, standing perfectly straight to attention. I could see her fighting my control in her eyes, almost like running through some kind of training. I could see her straining her mind to fight me.

"Now you know control." I say, standing a foot in front of her, looking down at her.

She met my glare by looking up at me, unable to move her head from looking forward. "You ... are ... effective." She said with the little breath and mouth movement she could muster.

I reached up to hold her cheek. As my hand caressed her face her fists balled, as if trying to punch me, but she could only strain them as they remained pinned at her sides. I enjoyed looking at the well-trained woman, who had clearly not felt a loss of control in some time, tugging at her mental restraints with no avail. The more she struggled, the more of her resolve was turned into fear.

The petite woman stood helplessly in front of me, at my mercy.

I felt myself harden as I made plans for her. "Don't worry, you won't remember me after this."

I reached out to touch her again but, without warning, I felt something hit the back of my head hard. That was the last thing I remembered.