I set the alarm early for me- it's still a five hour flight to a place nine hours ahead of us- and woke up a few minutes before it went off. A single thought was on my mind, one I've known but haven't considered- I'd let Billy make a decision as to what I'll be doing. I mean, it wouldn't look very good if I called the Bastard up after Billy had finished with him and said 'Cancel that, here's what we'll be doing.' What if Billy had made a bad decision instead of a good one? 'You're going to have to deal with that.', I said to myself. I had been explicit with the command, to prevent bad shit from happening to me, and he had accurately obeyed. If he's going to be serving as my duplicate, and have the decision-making power that comes with it, I have to accept that he might make misjudgments or mistakes. Did I still dare? Yes. Yes, I did. Smiling, I put on the suit and walked downstairs, to find Sarah and Paul playing a game on the big screen.

"Hey, Howard.", Paul said as I walked downstairs. "Time to go?"

"It is.", I replied.

"I'll get Billy." Sarah saved the game and he went upstairs past me as I thought of exactly how to do this. I'll need to respond, not act on my own, not this time. Depending on what is said, I might need to kill the Bastard, and if I kill him I should kill his bitches at the same time. Between firsts it might start a serious resource fight that I might need to control, but if they've gotta go, they've gotta go. How should I... ah, yes, yes. Three engineereds, three idiots. I need a trigger phrase.. and I know just what to use, too. Sarah smiled and nodded when she saw the telltale grin on my face. She knows what it means.

Following Paul, Billy came out of his room with an angry look on his face. To my surprise, he vaulted over the railing, flipping forward as he landed from the twelve-foot drop so as not to get hurt- he didn't, of course. He's wearing the black suit with its cushioned soles, it's plush carpet, he's Billy, and he knows he's not allowed to hurt himself. Paul looked at the feat, realized he couldn't duplicate it, and took the stairs instead. Even after doing something exhilarating like that, he still looked pissed.

"Billy, you look like you're ready to kill something. Is it all at me?"

"No.. not just you, Howard. It's them I want." He's in luck, and not just tonight- killing Illuminati is something I'll be doing as Dominator. "They made you and me the way we are. They fucking enslaved the world.. and all this is their fault. And something tells me you don't want a few of them around either." On that, he is perfectly accurate.

"You guessed it. Okay.. Sarah, when I get in that throne, you sit to my left, Billy, to my right, and Paul.. hmm.. behind me." I don't want anyone pointing- or aiming- at him. "And listen carefully to this one- exactly one half second after I finish the sentence 'Ladies and gentlemen, I have a statement to make.', Billy, you kill the bitch to Gladstone's left, Sarah, the one to his right. One bullet death. You know what bitches I speak of?"

"Sandra and Wilma. How could I not.", Sarah said, annoyed at them. She has her own reasons not to like them.

"Of course. The fat whores he has for chorus girls.", Billy said, even more annoyed.

"Bingo." My saying that made him happier.

"Hee hee.. Howie, that's a good trigger phrase.. 'I'm resigning - wait, no I'm not, THEY are!'" Good, he was paying attention when I gave that speech; he remembered what the statement meant.

"Heh heh heh. Let's go."

Ah yes, four humans can just fit in the jet.. hmm. "Oh.. damn. Hmm .. the floor, the seat or.. ah. Okay, Sarah, you stay in the .. nah.. Better idea. Paul, Billy, get in the back. Sarah, fly us to headquarters, cruising speed."

"Oh, no..", Billy said, realizing what was about to happen.

"Not again!", Sarah griped, as she got in the pilot's seat. She blasted the plane forward at cruising speed, and Paul grunted from the acceleration.

"Sarah, get back here.", I commanded her after she turned on the autopilot. She did, and I laid back with my head on her legs, my feet on Billy, and Paul in between. It felt wonderful. Warm, soft, and moving- there's nothing manufactured that can beat this for comfort. I have got to do this more often.

"Does he always do this?", Paul muttered. He was, by far, the softest of the three.

"Sometimes.", Billy replied in a dark tone.

"Hehehe... Feel lucky. I could be Sandra." I'm physically dense, yes, but I'm not that heavy, not yet anyway. One of the Bastard's wenches would be far, far worse- how the hell do genetic normals get like that, anyway?

"Well, then we wouldn't be going anywhere.", said Sarah, and I looked up at her smile. Apparently she's trying to imitate mine.

"Why not?", I asked, waiting for the punchline.

"The plane wouldn't get off the ground!" It was pretty funny- we all laughed at it, and their laughter was a nice massage on my head, back, and feet. This is one of the coolest parts of having servants like these, being able to use them for comfort and joke with them at the same time. And, of course, there's also the killing part of it, and all of us engineereds were ready to do some slaughtering. Fragging alone is fun, but for the real entertainment, bring your friends.

"Could she even fit in here?", Paul cracked. Technically, probably, but there sure as hell couldn't be three of her.

"Well, now that depends, Paul. I imagine if we used an industrial press.." That brought gales of laughter. Despite being made of 70% hard-to-compress water, normal humans are squishy creatures, to my experience anyway. Shit, if we squeeze her hard enough, we might be able to turn her into oil, and refine it into jet fuel. Get out of my face and into my gas tank, bitch!

"She'd just pop back up!", Paul shouted, and my whole body moved with laughter. Paul was obviously thinking in cartoon physics; I visualized being the Dominator of a planet with them. Wow, how would that work? It would make my job much, much tougher- cartoon characters are practically impossible to kill...

"Okay, okay, no more fat jokes for the next 3 hours. I don't want to hear much more of that.", I said. Silliness has limits. "But seriously, she wouldn't fit in here. At least not leaving room for anyone else." They could visualize it.

Billy came up with something interesting. "Howard, speaking of fitting.. this thing could hold what? A six foot four guy? And if we're going to be seven foot two.." I hadn't considered that. This jet is pretty small; although it has Illuminated comfort utilities in it (and not just the black-clad humans), it was designed more as a speed-built fighter jet than a luxury liner. Paul looked between me and Billy, amazed that we'd grow so large. It would make the bullet dodging a bit harder, wouldn't it? I doubt that. The strength and endurance boost will more than make up for it, even if I need to replace the jet.

"Billy, you forgot who you're talking to. If this jet has room problems, I get a new jet, and let the taxpayers pay for it. A lot of Illuminati could probably use this thing anyway." I'll need to decide who to give it to in advance. In terms of units my super jet is worth more than some countries. "And yes, Paul, 2.2 meters, about seven foot two. Don't worry, you won't look too much like a midget.", I said smiling, patting him on the chest. I took a breath and thought for a bit. I should probably do some more research on the political climate, but damn, I didn't feel like getting up. Fortunately, I have ways of getting things done that I don't want to do. I commanded Billy to search the first and second levels' logged communications thoroughly and then tell me of anything that I'll find important (and fortunately, he knows enough for me to not have to elaborate on that) involving Paul, Damien, or some idiot like the Bastard getting his revenge. Billy swapped places with Paul under me and started to search. I'm just glad the information is logged as Enforcer-transcribed text, which is searchable for key words and the like, instead of just voice recordings, that aren't. Besides, Billy can read many times faster than these people can talk.

He did, indeed, search thoroughly; it took him a half hour total, and I'm sure he was learning a good deal reading all the various conversations between sheeple-deluding world controllers. "Howard, most of it's just replacement stuff, who's going to do what now that Damien's a corpse. And most of the ones who talked about it agree it's a suicide." In public, at least. "There are eight things you should probably take a look at though."

I should take a look at? And get up? I think not. "Say when the conversations happened, who they are, then read them aloud so I understand them.", I commanded him.

He let out a sigh before starting. "June 4, 1998, 0017 hours. Night Operator: 'Herbert, I'm sorry to disturb your rest, but I have horrible news.'" Wasn't too horrible to me or Paul, assclown!

"Gladstone: 'What are you talking about, horrible news? What is it?'"

"'Herbert, your son, Damien Gladstone of the Second Level of the Illuminati is dead.'"

"'Dead? How? He was supposed to be on that damn Dominator's island by now! He can't be dead.. can't be..' He was crying, How." I nodded, having figured that.

"'He was shot in the head, sir. By his own servant, as a matter of fact.'"

"'What?! What happened?!'"

"'I don't know, sir. You'll have to ask the Dominator. I spoke with him less than five minutes ago. He was very arrogant.'" I'm sorry, what? You goatfuckers, I'm your Dominator- I reserve the right to be as arrogant as I like!

"'I'll call him up right now. Are you sure Damien's .. dead?'" Billy did a decent Gladstone impression, mimicking the Bastard's sorrow and anger.

"'Very much so, sir. The Dominator confirmed a powerful head shot with fatal brain injury.'" I giggled insanely at that. Here I am, preparing to cause a powerful head shot with fatal brain injury!

"'Damn it, I'll call him up right now. Gladstone out.' End of transmission."

"Okay, Billy, stop.", I said, sighing. "I wish I would have remembered those two were cousins before this whole mess began." Yes, it's insane. His cousin's son wasn't engineered at all, and he's the Night Operator of Northberg. "Can't track everyone, I guess. Oh well. Paul, read the next one."

"June 11, 1998, 2315 hours.", Paul monotoned.

"Tim Castle: 'Dave, Dave, wake up Dave!'"

"Dave Control: 'Tim? What's going on, why are you waking me up?'"

"'Dave, Damien's dead!'"

"'What?! How?!'" Paul just recited; he didn't portray the startled terror.

"'It's all confused up, happened on the Dominator's island.. yeah, Howard says Damien's own servant killed him, but Herbert's going apeshit saying how it was all Howard's fault. No intelligence gatherable, Howard's not letting anyone near that island right now.'" As if I ever did!

"'Is the damage recoverable?'" Yes, we can replace Damien with someone smarter and not related to assholes.

"'No way. Howard says his brain is in little pieces. Something bad happened out there, Dave.'"

"'Oh, god. Look, that kid is becoming a serious threat here. Herbert said he shoulda been stopped earlier but..'" Shoulda? As in actually should have been stopped if..

"Stop, Paul." I got the feeling that it wasn't a 'should' meaning 'In retrospect, we should have killed Blair before he adopted the moniker 'Orwell'.' It was more like 'When I pulled the trigger, the gun should have fired.' As in, they were actively plotting against me, probably something having to do with the tests. "All right, keep going."

"'..he wasn't, and here he is wreaking havoc. What the fuck was that old guy thinking, putting in this damn kid?'" This kind of nonsense is really starting to piss me off. I am the Dominator, remember? You don't like me, you think I'm not competent because of my young age? I don't like you either, and I think you're incompetent because of your abject stupidity and intra-Illuminati manipulation bullshit. Let's see whose opinion prevails. Hint: I'm engineered, you're not.

"'Dunno. Look, let's let this sit for a day or two, all right Dave? Don't want Howard freaking out and using that damn superweapon of his.'" The Micro? What a joke. That attitude is all wrong, focusing on the wrong things and coming to the wrong conclusion. The Micro is a heat-producing tool. I am the superweapon, and I have two more superweapons who serve me.

"'All right, Tim. Thanks for callin' me up. Night.' End of transmission."

I sighed. What a couple of nitwits. It's amazing how easily these people who are supposed to be Illuminati can get worked up. None of them actually cared about Damien, except maybe his relatives. I'm starting to get the feeling that this is something I've been warned about, that they just band together in a gaggle of ignorance and mutual backrubbing at the expense of the larger organization, a sort of politics that we try to avoid here. "Were the rest of 'em like this?"

"Yeah.", Billy said. "All the same theme. They don't know what to do, so I don't think they're going to do anything. They're not sure what happened, they don't really know if what you said was the truth, they don't know what to believe. They're surprised and confused." That came as very good news.

"Just the way I like them." Surprised and confused people are easier to direct, and I'm going to direct them to my line of thinking tonight. "And yet again we see the nature of humanity exposing itself once more."

"How do you mean?", Billy asked. I would have been disappointed if he didn't.

"Remember when I told you they all wanted whatever tortures, and how some wanted me dead or you dead?" He nodded. "This is a demonstration of that. They made up that sort of thing right at that moment. They clamored immediately. They knew that I'd be reading the logs, and so it was a way of sending it to me."

"Yeah, I really don't get that. If they were so horribly angered.. then why isn't there more of this stuff? Why didn't they send whatever requests to you directly? I mean, it would piss you off the same amount, they must know that.." Actually, it pisses me off more when they go even a little bit behind my back, which is why I'm so annoyed now. Who knows who really wants me to die? Who will tell me if they get a non-logged message from another Illuminatus vilifying me? Some of their loyalties are to things other than me and the organization, and I intend to change that.

"Because they're doing their piece of manipulation." was the answer to his question, though.

"..now I'm really confused.", he replied.

"It's always hard to understand.", Sarah said, shaking her head. One of the reasons that it's so hard to understand is that it's normal crap, trying to use techniques on someone who they won't work on.

"All right.. here goes. They wanted to express to me and their friends, for the record- and believe me, they all have ways of communicating off the record- that they did not approve of this, even if it was technically a suicide. They might even be joyful about the target- the Bastard's son, to be sure, wasn't widely loved. However, by doing what they did, they sent me a message saying that I shouldn't allow any killing." That, I barely understand. If they don't betray me or fall into stupidity, why would their lives be at risk? "When they indirectly told me to do something like torture him or kill you, most of them weren't actually expecting me to do it. Now, to be sure, many of them probably really do want me to do that sort of thing, and some of them probably really do want me dead because of this. However, they know when they're not going to get what they want, so, if they presumably have control over their own egos, they'll just deal with it and go on."

I did not anticipate Billy's reply. "Either that, or they're just whining and talking to each other like normals when someone gets killed because they're afraid, hoping for some sort of mutant justice that they'll never see, not bothering to conceal their messages because they don't think to do it.", he Occam's Razored me. I didn't want to believe that, but it probably had some truth in it, and that made things much worse. C'mon guys- aren't you supposed to be professionals? Telling people what you want, to get what you want? Bioengineering. Every last one of them needs a good, healthy dose of bioengineering.

"Or a combination of both.", I said. "It worries me that you might be right for the majority of them." I didn't have any idea this was an actual problem- I need Illuminati who can think.

"One thing I want to know.. why do you call them The Bastards, anyway?", Billy asked. Sarah sighed, as if there was a whole lot to say.

"That's a long one. Well, she had her own concerns when dealing with them. But it's pretty damn simple. They try every fucking day to manipulation to steal from and try to control other Illuminati." Billy should be aware of this difference. I expect manipulators to try to manipulate each other. It's all in how they use it; leveraging is accepted, lying and wheedling is not. "One time, the guy said something like 'Well, now you're in a position of weakness because you went and got that, and now I'm just profiting off your greed.' Shit like that. That barely makes sense, no Illuminatus is stronger because someone else got greedy, the guy who grabbed and didn't burn too many resources in grabbing now has more power, and the other guy doesn't. Another time, the Bastard kept going on and on, in a public meeting, about how he was owed shit and how he needs it, et cetera, everyone was bored and pissed- the guy he was bitching about didn't give him anything, but another guy did a bad trade with him. I'm surprised no one has killed him yet. He tries to be a fucking demagogue to us.", I explained, trying to remember exactly why I hated him. There was other shit, too, but it was a jumble of half-thoughts and muddled memories. I don't do much research on the people who disgust me. I should probably change that habit..

"Demagogue...", Billy muttered, wondering if he's seen him before in normal land.

"He's not a public, Billy. He doesn't pose as any of the demagogues you're thinking of, Pat Robertson, Tammy Faye, or that one fat guy, I forget his name.. I think they're all servants of fourth levels or something like that. Could have changed since I last heard it."

"Heh. Yeah. I think just about everyone who knows about him hates his guts almost to the point of killing him outright.", Sarah said angrily. "And did I ever want to. Damn, I hated that guy. He sent me on the most worthless missions to do the most worthless shit, sometimes for fun, like just stealing stuff and then putting it back, just to see if I could do it or for some bet. And yes, Billy, it was the important and treasured stuff. No one found out it had ever left, except guys who we replaced."

"Sarah, that's actually really bad. I'd think Daddy or somebody would have done something. Even a third level I don't think would have gotten away with that, maybe not even a second.", I said. A first shouldn't either, really.

"I know! He had a fixation on me or something. I think he wanted me," Heh, that's interesting. Most people want Sarah to stay far, far away from them. "but he was.. that's right. He knew in advance, so he was pissed that you were getting me instead of him or his son." 'Damien wouldn't have lasted three days as Sarah's master.', my own voice said in my head, and although I wasn't sure just what miscommand would have done it, I knew I was right.

Landing and going inside the concealed facility, we took the same path we had when I introduced myself.