Daniel Souza

Location: Rivoli Cinema, Brooklyn.
The hall is full of the dead. Agents S—Susa, Peggy Carter, Thomson, and you have arrived.

I only remember the smell. Sweet, cloying, like old wine someone forgot to refill a candle with. And then—the world turned upside down.

My body ceased to be my own. The hands that had been carefully holding the cylinder just a second ago suddenly felt alien—heavy, hot, with a life of their own. I heard my own scream, but it came from somewhere far away, as if I were standing at the end of a long corridor, watching myself from the outside.

Thompson. I saw his face—pale, his pupils dilated. He was shouting something, but all the sounds merged into one low hum. My fingers tightened around his tie, then his throat. I felt his pulse pounding beneath his skin, and it filled me not with rage but with hunger. A strange, animal hunger that needed no reason.

I remember Peggy trying to pull me away. I pushed her away without even noticing the effort. She hit the chair, and somewhere in the back of my mind the thought flashed: "Stop," but the thought was like a spark in a hurricane.

And then - she.

I didn't see where she came from. A shadow appeared in my red haze—a dark jacket, short hair, steely hands that grabbed my head from behind, forcing it back. Her voice was sharp, like the crack of a whip:

• Don't breathe! Pinch his nose!

She wasn't talking to me, but to Peggy. I felt her elbow pressing against my Adam's apple, cutting off my oxygen supply. I growled, tried to break free, but she held me like a death grip—professional, without unnecessary cruelty, just firm. As if she'd done this a hundred times.

The police came down on top. Darkness, a roar, someone's boots. And the last thing I remember is her eyes.