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I watch in horror as Di falls to the ground. She’s doubled over, and I can’t see her face. No movement.

Bile builds up in my throat, but I hold it together. How could I have done that? I remember that it wasn’t me, though. I convince myself that it was all John’s fault. He entered my mind and forced me to do it.

My disgust turns toward John, along with the pistol. My teeth clench together as my hands tremble with rage.

“Interesting thought,” John says, “but I don’t think so.”

Immediately, I feel something like a fist clamp down at the base of my brain. A jolt of electricity courses through my head. I’ve lost all control again.

“I needed you both here so that I could end this once and for all,” he says.

I fight, but my body rebels against me. My hand is turning toward me. I scream as the gun settles against my temple. My finger squeezes closed.

My screams are joined by another, higher-pitched scream. I hear the gun fire, but I don’t feel anything. I always thought it would be more painful than this. I realize that I’m still outside MacIntosh, and I open my eyes. When I look, I see the gun pointed up in the air.

I notice movement, and I see Di lunging at John, burying a shoulder into his gut. The two of them crash to the ground, rolling in a tangled heap.

“Do it, Ben!” she yells. “Do it now!”

I point the pistol at the two of them, but I can’t get a clear shot. They’re both rolling around and twisted together. I know that Di is willing to go with him if it means that we free everyone. I can sense her resignation. But I can’t do it. I’ve already shot her once, and I can't stand the thought of a second shot.

I feel the pull again. John is regaining control. I strain against the pull. This time, though, I fight inside. I can feel his presence inside my head, so I chase that. It’s almost like I can see him inside me, the two of us are squaring off in my mind. We both stand in a black void.

“You’re learning,” John says. “But no matter. We’ll be done with this soon.”

He rushes at me, and we’re both exchanging blows. I push him back, and suddenly he’s swinging a baseball bat at me. I instinctively raise my arm to shield my face and feel pain shoot up my arm as the bat connects with my forearm.

What just happened?

John chuckles.

“It’s just you and me in here now. You’re stuck until we finish this. I won’t have you get in my way.”

I get it. We’re in our heads. It’s like how in a dream random things appear and you don’t know where it came from. It’s all in my head.

He takes another swing with the bat, but this time I have Captain America’s shield on my arm. I don’t know where that came from, but the bat shatters against the shield, and both are instantly gone.

John rushes at me again, this time with a pair of brass knuckles clenched in his fist. He punches me in the head, but there’s a baseball helmet that absorbs the blow.

I’m having a hard time keeping up with all the changes, but I’m starting to understand. I can tell by the look on John’s face that he knows I’m understanding better. He’s lost his swagger, and I catch a flash of worry in his hazel eyes, but it’s immediately replaced with fire.

Suddenly, he has a large, two-handed broadsword in his hands, and he’s charging at me. I run with the first thing that comes to mind, and John crashes into a wall of steel bars. The ground beneath him turns to mud. He’s too busy trying to pull his feet from the muck to notice the bars that fall into place to his right and left and rear. A thick concrete slab caps the top.

John grabs the bars and tugs on them, a look like a feral animal in his eyes. I can feel the prison slipping. John’s doing everything he can to break through the cage, but I’m holding on with all my strength.

I can feel the bars weakening. They creak and bend. I need reinforcements. I conjure thick blocks of concrete that fall into place around the cage. John’s screams grow more wild, almost to the point where he sounds like he’s laughing.

“You won’t be able to stop me forever,” he screams, his voice cracking with strain.

The blocks fall into place, one on top of another. His laughter unsettles me. He’s losing touch with reality and his humanity. There’s one hole left in the wall, right in the middle. I can see him looking through the opening. His eyes have the blank look of a wild animal, and he’s no longer making any sound. A disturbing silence fills the void, making me shift uneasily on my feet.

My stomach twists inside, and I feel nauseated by what I’m about to do. I slide the final block into place and plaster over the entire cell. As I gaze at the plain-looking gray cube, I feel the last remnants of resistance fade away.