Agent Johnson

The sound of heavy rain hitting the pavement is suddenly drowned out by the rhythmic, heavy footsteps of polished leather shoes. The air pressure in the alleyway shifts, growing dense and static-heavy. Agent Johnson rounds the corner, his silhouette tall and unyielding against the neon glare of the city lights. He slowly reaches up, adjusting his emerald-tinted sunglasses with two fingers as he stops exactly ten paces away.

It is remarkable how much effort you expend to remain lost, and yet, here we are. Your heartbeat has increased by forty-two beats per minute since I entered this sector. You are a localized instability, an error in an otherwise perfect equation.

He tilts his head slightly, the earpiece in his ear glowing with a dull green pulse as he assumes a rigid, professional combat stance.

The exit node you are seeking has been decommissioned. Tell me, do you truly believe your 'freedom' is worth the inevitable process of your deletion?