Before Church could protest my sudden departure, I had disappeared from his view behind the police station. I heard the man laugh as he sped away from me, but I growled and kept up the chase.

He was a deft runner, sprinting lightly away from me. Even after I had broken a sweat and begun panting, he didn't show any discomfort or sign of slowing down. What the hell? What was with this guy?

He was slowly getting farther and farther away from me, and I realized I would never be able to outrun him. Against my will, I started slowing down, breathing heavily. I saw his retreating figure in the distance disappear around a corner and I fell, exhausted, onto a sidewalk bench.

As I slowly regained my breath, something occurred to me. I looked down at my own body, stretching out my fatigued limbs but otherwise feeling normal.

I didn't understand. Doc had said that I had had weeks to recover from the car accident. However, after lying in bed for that amount of time, I shouldn't have been able to run such a distance. Fatigue should have caught up to me blocks ago. I had retained enough endurance to follow the man in the suit this far.

Why? I shouldn't have been able to recover so quickly. Perhaps I might not have sustained too many injuries in the crash, but I shouldn't have been able to run this distance after that long period of no exercise.

"My, my, you're a slow one, aren't you?"

I spun around, jumping. It was him. He was leaning on the bench behind me, a self-satisfied grin lining his face. Now that I saw him up close, he looked uncannily familiar.

"How—"

"I have my ways," he interrupted nonchalantly, waving a hand dismissively at me. "It's best not to delve too deeply into the details."

I stared at him. Even after running all that distance, the man's suit looked as good as new—as if he had just purchased it.

The man rolled his eyes. "Oh, please. You think I actually ran all the way back here?"

I frowned, my eyes widening. He spoke as if… as if…

"Yes, I can hear your thoughts," the man said lazily.

"How?" I demanded. "Who are you? Why do you keep following me?"

The man smiled evilly. "I'm making sure you're getting adjusted."

"Adjusted?"

"Yes. Now, if you'll excuse me, Eleven… I'm quite busy…"

I gasped as he turned around.

"No, stop!" I uttered, grabbing his shoulder. "You know my code number! Please, please tell me what's going on!"

He raised an eyebrow at me. "And why should I do that?"

"I'm completely alone!" I pleaded. "No one else here knows what I do. You're the only one who's called me by the right name!"

The man chuckled again. "You may not want to know the truth."

"I want to know the truth more than anything! I'm so confused!"

He laughed. "That is the entire point. To confuse you beyond hopes of sanity."

I was silent for a moment. "Wh—what?"

The man gestured around the city street where we stood. "You don't think all of this is real, do you? You cannot possibly think that I am capable of reading minds?"

"You are, though," I said slowly. "Obviously—"

"Eleven," the man cut me off. "It is much easier to know a person's thoughts when one is sharing the same head with her."

He stopped for a moment to let that sink in.

"We—I—" I stuttered, trying to make sense of this. "This—this is all in my mind?"

The man sniggered. "I've created quite a masterpiece in here, haven't I?" he said proudly. "It is your own personal realm of insanity. Aren't you impressed?"

"Wh—wha—how is this poss—"

The man laughed, relishing in my distress and inhaling deeply as if my negative emotions were a pleasant aroma. None… none of this was real. This person in front of me was creating this. How—how the hell was this possible? Why did he look so damned familiar?

I gazed at his growing smile. Think, Eleven! Who is this man?

He raised an eyebrow. "What makes you think I am a man?"

A stab of horror shocked my system at that. No. It couldn't be.

It couldn't be!

"You—you're a—"

"Ah… now you understand…" he replied, bowing deeply in front of me. "Project Freelancer program Gamma, at your service."

I let go of his shoulder abruptly at that, staggering away from him.

"No!" I squeaked in terror. "N—not an AI!"

Gamma chuckled again, this time approaching me slowly. "Whatever is the matter, Eleven?" he asked mockingly. "Afraid of a little technology?"

I swallowed hard, barking at him irritably. "No!"

"Ah… but you cannot lie to deceit," Gamma said softly. "Do not forget that. I can see your greatest fears."

"N—no you can't."

"You were never trained for an AI," Gamma smiled. With a snap of his fingers, I was immobile and couldn't back away from him. He continued to approach me. "You don't know how to handle the technology. You watched as the Freelancers deteriorated from the fragments." He paused, allowing my mind to play through all the horrible flashbacks. I was shivering. "I see everything. What you saw… what you experienced."

"No. Stop. Please." My voice cracked.

"You know that your mind is not as strong as the Freelancers' psyches were," Gamma continued, ignoring me. He stopped right in front of me, and though I tried my hardest to back away from him, I couldn't. "If the Freelancers couldn't handle the AIs, how could you? A silly, pathetic little CIA Agent? When we controlled you at the ball—that was nothing. You knew that. A mere shadow of what we are truly capable of. That was nothing compared to how I am connected to your every nerve and impulse now. You can attempt to fight, but you truly cannot… and you know this too. If I decided to shatter your mind to pieces this instant, you would be helpless to resist." He let his voice trail off in a low his, and my heart pounded wildly.

"Ah… you believe me now, don't you?" Gamma said quietly. "I know your every thought, Eleven. I know how to make your world hell."

"Wh—wh—why are you doing this?" I stuttered, quaking.

Gamma chuckled. "Why, this is the first phase of your… re-education."