Is something going to happen today, or is nothing going to happen today? It was early, but we'd already had breakfast, so it looked like nothing. When Howard wants me with him, he commands it- so I just decided to play with Paul for a bit, before getting bored and deciding to go out. "Yup. Looks like this guy's doing something very, very bad over there.", I heard Howard say to Sarah as I opened the door to my room.

"You gonna raid him?" Looks like something might happen today after all.

"No. I can't afford that in secrecy damages. I'm tempted to just blow the whistle the usual way and have him executed or something, but with this... who the hell knows what could happen. And I don't plan on telling any more people than I have to."

"What's going on?", I asked, walking downstairs.

"Billy- read this." On the screen was the requisition information for a fourth level Illuminatus by the name of James Baker for some kind of youth camp. Ten Enforcers, some restraints and other stuff, and five extra sets of implants. What would he need those for?

"So he's hoarding them, or..?"

"He runs a youth camp.", Howard replied. Gah! Holy shit! I thought these guys were supposed to respect secrecy better than that! Is this guy really going to implant normal children?

"Howard, you really don't think he's using them on those kids do ya?" The irony, of course, is that we're not quite adults either. But that sentence sounded good anyway.

"Looks like it."

My wit came instantly. "Well, I remember you distinctly saying you planned to implant everyone."

"Yeah. Not like this! Five deaths with cloned or questionable bodies? Oh, we can keep investigators out, cover it all up, but you know as well as I do, bad shit happens! One false move and he could as one of his last actions blow the secrecy on them and there could be a panic. It'd take us years to clean that shit up. We need to find out what he's doing, exactly.", Howard said, agitated. Not that he doesn't have reason to be.

"A young Enforcer?", suggested Sarah.

"No, no, if the guy came around he could tell. But.. oooh. Hey.", Howard said, closing the window displaying Baker's requisition information. As he pulled up the place's demographic information, I realized what kind of youth camp this really was- the requisition for the restraints should have told me but it took some other assorted tidbits on the screen to clue me in. I don't know much about those places- I'll have to look it all up- the only things I'm sure of are that the kids are sent there 24 hours a day and that it ain't summer camp. And with an Illuminatus running the place, God only knows what goes on in there. Mind Control R Us, most likely.

"Oh, Paaaaul!", Howard called through the intercom. What the FUCK are you DOING, Howard?! You can't POSSIBLY be.. I noticed Sarah shrugging and remembered what she said. Spy shit. Murphy's fucking Law...

"What?, Paul answered, as he continued his game of Starcraft.

"You are to put on normal clothing and eat a good meal 71 and a half hours from now. You are to be ready for further instructions 72 hours from now." I'll have to find out why Howard decided to wait that long. Probably needs to set things up where he's going.

"What for?"

"You, my dear Paul, are going spying."

"Oh fucker, can't you make Sarah do it?" We all chuckled, me in spite of myself. Males only for this place.

"Not in this place."

"This wouldn't happen to be one of those boys' ranch places would it?", he said, a note of intense fear in his voice. How the hell did he figure it out?

"How the fuck did you know?!", Howard shouted.

"Educated guess. By the way, those places suck."

"Yup. Which is why you're going. You don't have to be worried, though, as soon as you find out what he's doing, you'll be back to your regular hell in no time!", Howard said. He's going to be put through enough hell as it is.. which is why Howard's toying with him.

"Yes, I guess it does need some variety.", Paul replied in a low voice. Howard clicked the screen off.

"Howard, can't you send someone else?!" He controls the fucking Illuminati and he can't contact one person to summon someone else?!

"Hardly. I don't want to discuss this one with anyone until I'm sure. Any contact could trigger something that I don't want, namely all hell breaking loose." The one temper on his power is his paranoia. When secrecy breaks, 'all hell breaking loose' won't cut it. "Relax. He's in any trouble and I'll get medieval on this guy's ass."

"You can't teleport, Howie.. what if he's dead before you show up?", I asked him.

"Not likely. The worst thing that could happen to him is that he gets found out, and then we'll have a brief hostage situation." Brief until someone just fucking snipes the asshole, probably through a wall. Paul came down just then. "He's not dumb enough to kill him, especially if he finds out who he is."

"Are you betting my life on someone not being stupid enough to kill me?", Paul asked.

"Yes, I am.", Howard answered casually.

"So much for that twelfth birthday party I wanted.", he replied. Sarah found that funny and I pondered how Paul might die if he did. They probably wouldn't kill him there, they'd.. oh, wait.

"Wait a minute.", I said. "What if they take him somewhere else?"

"It works like this, Billy.", Sarah said, in operative's-tutorial mode. "We contact Paul on a regular basis. If we can't get through, we use Illuminated methods of data acquisition or we send operatives. We continue until we feel the need to end the mission."

"What I mean, is exactly what are we going to do if he gets sent somewhere else, we want to end the mission, and we have to go and retrieve him? What if this guy takes him somewhere normal and we'd have to sift through normals to find him?!"

"Billy, I've had to find and kill a disguised Illuminatus three times in the middle of normal areas before. Finding and retrieving is actually more difficult, but it won't be that hard."

"Speaking of which, is that what you're going to do, disguise Paul?" Howard and Sarah nodded. "But how do you plan to keep track of him, though?", I asked I was expecting her to say something like 'DNA sniffer' or 'By scent, how else?'.

"Hmm... subdermal implants?", Howard suggested.

"Subdermal?", said Paul in a panicky voice.

"Under the skin, Paul.", Sarah said. Paul gasped and shuddered, not eager for more maiming. C'mon Paul, it's not like you don't already have them attached to your brain. "But it doesn't matter. All that stuff's done at Northberg..."

"Yeah.. hmm, I'm pretty sure they do a full body cavity search...", Howard thought aloud.

"Full body cavity search? You mean they're going to..", Paul began, and I noticed him instinctively clenching his ass cheeks.

"Yes, Paul. They are. But since this guy's Illuminated he's not going to do anything esoteric or permanently hurtful. He can't, it would attract attention.", Howard said, not reassuring Paul in the least.

"Well, good.. guys, I really don't wanna listen to this.. Howard, just make your damn decision and then tell me what's going on.", he said, running back up to my room, not wanting to think about this. Howard chose to remain silent.

"You're not going to..", I began, wondering why Howard just didn't keep Paul here and feed it to him full-on.

"No. I'm not.", he said, shaking his head. "I don't need to and he doesn't need it." 'Exactly! He doesn't need it! Now go find someone else!', I almost said, but Howard's too paranoid- and rightly so- to involve anyone other than his servants and agents in this.

"That guy doesn't want to attract any more attention than he has to, especially if he's running what I think he's running.", Howard said, shaking his head a bit. The guy has to know he's operating on a razor's edge.

"What if he tries it on Paul?", I asked. Howard obviously didn't think of that.

"Then he'll really be surprised, won't he?", Howard replied. I could imagine it. First the initial oh-shit response, and then panic, and then screaming, and then either a futile hope of running for safety (which would be found where, exactly?) or an equally futile pleading for mercy. "I hope that doesn't happen. He might freak out and kill him, or try some other shit."

"Some other shit, maybe. I don't think he'll kill him.", Sarah said.

"Yeah, he'll check to see who he is, and when he finds out, he's just going to head for the fucking hills. Of course, I'm going to have guys making sure James doesn't go very far.", Howard replied evenly.

"Let's hope this works and that Paul doesn't go any crazier than he already is.", I said. I'm having enough insanity of my own, thank you.

"He won't. That's why I can do this with complete confidence, because I know he has the resilience for this.", Howard replied, smiling. It's a good thing you're confident, because Paul sure as hell isn't.

"I've got it.", Sarah said. "We don't need Northberg for this. I can put a good transmitter in the back of his neck, covered by hair, stitch it up no problem. He can have a list of code phrases, we can make sure he calls regularly, and we get a good idea of what's going on as well as a signal if we decide to raid the place. Oh, I'm such a fool... I don't need to."

"Why not?", I asked.

"How could I forget? The implants already transmit, Billy." Howard realized something and moved his head back sharply. Oh, yes. He intended to have that disabled a while ago and we all forgot. "They transmit a unique, coded signal every three seconds. It takes very little of the brain's energy because the signal is very weak. The transmission can be turned off, but his are almost certainly still going."

"Yes, we can pick it up.", Howard said, irritated at his own mistake. "Both of you get dressed, get down to Northberg, and get your implant transmitters turned off. Now. And don't go hinting at what I'm going to do with Paul or try to ask for other solutions to this." Damn you. Put some salt and some ketchup on your secrecy and eat it.

I explained the situation to Paul as I put on the usual black clothing. He seemed mildly pacified that there were at least minimal thoughts for his safety, but from the look in his eyes I could see him imagining a return to torture. But this, like his previous torment, is likely to end in the tormentor's bloody, violent, horrifying demise.

We flew to Northberg (I actually flew the plane most of the way, which was interesting if nothing else), had our heads cut open under anaesthesia, implant transmitters turned off (which Sarah actually bothered to confirm), and flew home. I was wondering if I'd feel less energy use from my brain, as I know that takes a small amount of energy to do, but I felt nothing. It was a completely uneventful trip, and we regenerated the cuts long before we landed. It's a shame the implants don't regenerate out.

"So how long is he going to be there, anyway?", I asked Howard when we came back.

"Heh, Paul already asked.", he replied. "I'm thinking.. three weeks tops if he can't find anything. On the other hand, this might be a very short stay." Depending on how well Baker hides himself, that is.

I was hoping for a short trip, but the two days before Paul left felt like a funeral wake, as if he was going away forever. It's like that. When you lose someone you don't want to lose for a while, you never want him to go away again. Especially since he was tortured the last time he went away, and especially in a situation like this, where we don't own our own bodies and Paul's life is in potentially mortal danger. I resolved to at least pretend like I didn't care, so as not to worsen Paul's mood.

When the time to go came close, Sarah gave Paul a lot of instructions, which Howard told him to follow. Search, but don't get too nosy. Find, but don't be found. Sarah went over about twenty code phrases with Paul and how to use them; he's smart, he memorized them quickly. "All right, disguise time.", she eventually said. She then carefully applied the disguise to his face, the big peelings of carefully-made fake skin sticking to him like glue. The effect worked; he looked like another boy entirely and I was half-tempted to welcome him to Howard's house as a newcomer. "Now, look, these things are meant to be worn a long time, so don't worry about that. Oil will go through them to the surface, just like natural skin, and you'll be able to wash your face okay. But they can peel off." Other than that, there was little more to do.

With a quick "Goodbye, Paul." from Howard and me (damn, I hate those words coming out of my mouth), he was gone.

I was nervous for almost all of the next four days, and I made no secret of it, although we got into contact with Paul every day and he was okay, and reporting nothing suspicious. It's always best to be paranoid here, anyway- this is, after all, the Illuminati. Damn. I kind of wish he did find something suspicious, just so we could raid that goatfelcher Baker and end this. On the bright side, Howard showed me and Sarah the results of two of his dogs breeding. Fido and Magma had done it (fortunately she survived the experience of giving birth to half-engineered puppies with wildly varying energy needs, and fortunately all the puppies lived as well), and the six pups, their fur a mixture of white and red, suckled eagerly on a machine apparently built for the purpose. He's going to give them away at some point, but I'm sure there's plenty of kids who would love to have them.

"So, Paul, how's it all coming along, okay in there?", Sarah had the agent ask on day four. I know it's best to use the same first name, it keeps him from mis-reacting- but it still sounds weird on a spy mission.

"Yeah.. yeah I think life here is pretty good, they still feed me, everything's A-OK." The code phrase for 'I'm really starting to get suspicious but I don't have any hard evidence.' "So, yeah..." He was suddenly cut off.

"Sorry, Mrs. Abrams. That's all the time we're allowed to give, other people need to use the phone.", a male voice said, in the familiar tone of an Enforcer. "Rest assured that your son is perfectly healthy and is receiving the best care we can give. Have a nice day." *click* Something's.. very wrong.

"Do you smell it, Howie?", I said to his laying figure, in a semi-aggressive voice. I'm sure he smells it. He has to smell it. He's the Dominator, for fuck's sake.

"Yeah...", he said in a low voice. Then his nose began twitching, as if he really did smell it in the air. "Yeah.. yeah I smell it, I can't help from smelling it, same as you!! Billy!! Sarah!! Get ready then let's get over there and let's ROCK!!", he screamed, his echo pounding the walls.

"Us, Howie?!", I asked as his command took me up the stairs to ready myself for battle. If I didn't know Howard, I'd think he'd use local agents for this, alerting the other Illuminati at the last possible moment. That would be faster, and with less personal risk. But no.. he enjoys the battle too much, and he doesn't want Enforcer vs. Enforcer combat anyway. If they're evenly matched, it can end up to be lengthy in a secrecy-damaging way.

"Yeah.. us." I went up the stairs and readied myself in the smooth motions gained from repetition. Boy, is that Illuminated fucker going to get a surprise when he sees Paul's implants. I can already see the look on his face...

I heard Sarah say, "I'm ready. I suppose we're raiding that asshole the quick way?", through the half-open door.

"Oh yeah.", I heard Howard say, in a sneering tone, angry at the thought of one of his servants being harmed by someone who dared to take more than his share of servants, and in this way to boot. I was ready and came back down the stairs. He flung open the window- not the door, but the patio-style window- and marched outside to the jet, his cape's movements the reverse of his legs. Sarah punched the button to turn it over. "I'm flying this thing this time.", he said in that sneering voice again.

"Sarah, is he fucking up?", I asked as Howard quickly performed the routine pre-takeoff checks.

"No, he's not, not technically. But he's being hasty."

"So are you going to tell him he's being hasty?", I asked her. Howard could overhear us, of course, but I didn't really care and neither did he.

"He already knows that.. and that's not going to stop him." What ever does? What possibly can? "I just wish I could go berserk with as much precision as he does." She's talking about the slaughterhouse end of it, what always happens to people who fuck with him. I suppose she's not really worried about the logistical stuff.

Of course she isn't, because that's her department, and Howard knew it. After blasting the jet at an extremely high altitude, he immediately started talking to her about what to bring. They arranged a fairly simple plan- get in, kill Baker, retrieve Paul, replace one of Baker's assistants with an Enforcer to lie about what happened, get out. I realized that Paul's disappearance didn't have to be arranged; Baker certainly already had arranged that end of it and Paul's fake parents know to keep things secret. They also brought a headless corpse in a plastic bag, to pretend to be the gunman, just in case anyone stepped in just after the slaughter and wondered who the killer was. Sarah figured out the rest of it mostly without Howard; she simply made it so that Illuminated agents would be doing the investigation under the guise of the FBI. It amazed me how efficiently she arranged the extraction and cleanup, figuring out all the little things, deciding what to do if anyone learned too much. It took a mere half hour for them to create a disguised fake assistant with everything he'd need to know to guard secrecy.

It took only 40 minutes to get there as Howard was burning the fuel with abandon. The stealth gear and other necessities were taken, and we piled in a car which took us to the surrounded-by-Enforcers building in a half hour. Everything was done surely, but unbelievably fast. The Illuminati moves at Internet speed.

Our replacement for Baker's assistant had tracked the signal to somewhere on the top floor; Sarah, with the aid of the Enforcers, decided what side of the building to climb and when. At the right moment, we simply flipped over the barbed-wire fence and grappled our way up the five-story building. Damn. Doesn't this shit usually happen in the basement? The Enforcers watched the normal guards and we had time to spare- since we're all engineered we simply pulled on the BioSteel rope, pushed with our feet, and scuttled up the wall.

Okay, now we're up- now what do we do? The Enforcer triangulated the signal to Paul's general location but we're in the middle of the ceiling! We'd have to take the stairs down and risk being seen. Damn it. Sarah didn't bother trying to plan this part because she didn't know where he was and there were no available blueprints. She stood in silence, and I knew her mind was roiling. Howard idly swatted a mosquito. Fucking hell! We've got all the shit in the world, my friend is less than ten feet away, I've got the fucking overlord of the entire fucking Illuminati here with me determined to get him out, and we can't get in simply because of some bitch-ass secrecy dogshit? He's got the most powerful gun on Earth, and we're just standing here in the middle of fucking nowhere, and he's fooling with his clothes a bit because of the stifling heat and humidity, which is almost as bad as the sheer embarrassment he must be feeling because he can't fucking..

Wait a minute.

"Heat lightning.", I said, grinning just a bit. Howard immediately got the idea, fooled with his Micro a bit, and held the weapon high into the air, firing diagonally downwards. The air exploded with a tremendous crack of thunder, and the concrete melted, burning. Howard pulled out the normal weapons; we followed suit. I felt the heat surround me as I jumped into the large hole, the warmth quickly dissipated into rage as Sarah exterminated the terrified Baker and I emptied the unused heads of two of the normals in the room. Howard killed two of his own. The shell casings went plink-plink. Oh, yes, these are truly normal weapons, they leave brass.

The four others in the room were Enforcers, trying to aim at us, a hopeless task. Howard and I each took half of them, as they fruitlessly tried to dodge our inerrant, quick aim. Our Enforcer wasn't able to kill any of them, and Sarah only killed Baker today.

I looked at Paul. He was obviously drugged, only slightly conscious, the two giant, gaping holes in his skull revealing the implants. His skull pieces were right next to the chair. As Sarah took the plastic bag from the Enforcer, I reattached the two skull pieces (which were attached to special tape which obviously intentionally made that task easy), Howard and I carried him out the hole in the ceiling- then Sarah reattached the grappling hook and we rappelled quickly back down, a button press and the hook was off the wall, Sarah threw Paul over the fence into my arms, and we were out of there even faster than we got in. That was easy. Sarah called in the fake agents to "investigate", Howard called in a medical team to take care of Paul- they made sure everything was going to heal okay (with the aid of some regenerative gel) before injecting him with something to clear the drug from his system. In ten minutes we were back in the car, and a half an hour later we were in the jet again. Howard called up a first-level Illuminatus literally at random and told him to deal with it and to take as many of Baker's resources as he wanted, Howard obviously being through with this entire deal, and the Illuminatus gladly took the responsibility to inherit the resources.

Sarah was in the pilot's seat, and Paul had Howard to his left and me to his right. "Howard?", Paul asked in a fairly sure voice, turning his head to his left and nothing else. He obviously had waited until the drug was gone from his system before talking to him.

"Yes?"

"Don't you ever do anything like that to me, ever again." I could tell that he was holding back his anger.

"Which was it, the place or the implantation?", Howard answered casually.

"The place."

"You've seen worse.", Howard reminded him, shrugging, and Paul's anger flared up and he tried to backhand Howard as hard as he could. Wait- how can he.. oh, yes. Paul feels free to do it because he knows there's no way in hell he can actually hurt Howard, who caught his wrist and held.

"DAMN YOU HOWARD!", he screamed as loud as possible, and I could tell he was blushing deeply, even crying. "You're the fucking DOMINATOR!! You didn't need me to do that! You could have done anything else and yet you did that! I know you don't give a rat's ass about other people's suffering, but I thought you were my friend!" Don't go there, Paul. "You saved me from whatever was going to happen to me when I killed Damien, and then you put me there. First it was extremely bad, next up to bad, then down to very bad and now back up to bad again. Make up your mind. I just had to keep telling myself that I was on a mission." Which he was, of course, but that didn't seem to help him much.

In response, Howard only smiled at him, apparently making a special effort to earn Asshole Points.

Paul just shook his head, sighing, and we flew at a pace substantially slower than the power-blasting that took us to that raid, going first to Northberg to turn off Paul's implant transmitters before we went home.

Even in the privacy of my soundproof room, Paul didn't want to talk about what all had gone on at that place, and I didn't push it for the same reason I never asked him details about Damien. And even though I'd helped rescue my best friend once again, the night's scream-dream was simply death.

I was awakened by screaming for a second time that night and instinctively closed my mouth- the screaming did not stop when I did. I looked left to see Paul sitting bolt upright, yelling "I'm sorry, I'm sorry!! No, don't!" and whimpering.

"Paul- I thought I was supposed to be the one with the nightmares. I thought you didn't get them.", I said, examining him. I don't think I've ever actually seen someone break out in a cold sweat before- his face was slightly shiny, and he was breathing like a rabbit.

He looked at me for a split second and seemed not to recognize me at all. Then his consciousness gradually broke through, he blinked, shook his head, and muttered, "Aw man, what a dream. Billy- I dreamt Howard sent me back to Damien." He was whimpering slightly as he talked, like a frightened puppy. Which reminded me, I'd want to show him the recently-born dogs.

"Pfft- there's only one way he could do that." Blam. Or crunch, as the case may be. Which poses an interesting theological question for all the Jehovites out there- are we enslaved to our most hated foes in some circle of Hell?

"Yeah.. yeah, I know. But.. but that was just so fucking scary." Paul then looked down to make sure that he was still in one piece and that Northberg's healing had not been mysteriously undone during the night. "All right, it's still you, and it's still.. him. May the both of you never die."

"Wish. Careful. Be you what for.", I said. A retrovirus could make him immortal to go right along with us.

"That is careful. What are the alternatives?"

"You already know, Paul. If he dies, you get sacrificed. To who or what is anyone's guess. You're probably going to get used for information before then, but that'll take about five minutes..."

"And you, then..?"

"Me? I'm too precious. No, they've probably got something worse in store for me. And her.. well... she's female, and she assassinates. A brief show of power by some horny and power-hungry man- or serious lesbo- and.."

"Ugh. There's nothing like playing a game you can't win with really high stakes." Paul's novel view of the matter woke me up some more.

"Yup. That's about it. So let's keep playing."

"Yeah. Is he up?"

"Are you kidding?"

"Actually.. I think I probably was. All right. I am Colonel Shephard." Paul then proceeded to create a new Difficult game of Opposing Force and I proceeded to join him, the second player having been easily hacked in by some grinning Illuminatus, and we only paused the game once to eat breakfast. Paul's at his most winsome when he tries to keep up with me.

After we were done, out of morbid curiosity, I decided to read some western Nevada news. A great tragedy. An as-of-yet unidentified man (read: they didn't make up his identity yet) decided to use some firebombs, guns, and grenades inside a boys' ranch, maiming and killing staff members, including the man in charge of the ranch, James Baker, father of two. (Now I know who he's getting the kids for.. is this friends-factory deal becoming a bit of a trend? Also, he was one of the minority of Illuminati with public presences.) One of the perpetrator's makeshift ('makeshift', so no one who recognized the sound of a grenade would talk about the difference.. NICE verbiage, guys.) grenades had even taken out a large portion of the ceiling- 'like a crack of thunder', as some witnesses put it. Additionally, the ranch has had several reports of suicide within the last few months. It is now closed, pending further investigation. When no one will care and the organization's lower technical staff can make up anything they want, of course. And I am certain that although it was seen as newsworthy by the locals, national organizations will never carry the story, because it's 'too graphic' or some other sorry-ass explanation. "A job well done.", I muttered out loud.

"I know. I love doing that on short notice.", my voice said from behind me.

"Howard, I'm still trying to figure out how you can have a temporary replacement in thirty minutes."

"Easy. Especially in crises, where everyone behaves the same."

"And as for the rest of that.."

"And as for the rest of that, there are a lot of Illuminati who specialize in nothing but secrecy, and Sarah's always been good at it. It's an art and a science."

"So that was my first lesson.."

"No, that was your second lesson. You were subjected to your first lesson." He's right. Being on the wrong end of one really does tell you something about Illuminated operations..

"Yeah, I think that was my second lesson too..", said Paul, who patted the regenerative strip of plastic on his head. "and I sure learned a lot from it."

"Like what?", Howard said with a slight grin.

"Oh, let's see.. how to engage in a direct assault from the ceiling, what that maniac was thinking- other maniacs probably think the same.. how to deal with lots of assholes instead of only one or a few.." I grinned and Howard chuckled to himself. "Oh, yeah, and to maybe think up better ways so you won't tell me to do that shit anymore!" Ordinarily, I would have laughed, only it wasn't funny. Howard smiled.

"Paul, there's other ways, but I didn't want to have to warn anyone that I was doing it until I did- you know that."

"Well, it worked, so I guess you're happy..", he said with a sigh. "Now let's just hope there's no more of that shit going around.." He absolutely did not want to be doing that ever again, and it showed in his eyes.

"Well, if there is, they know to tone it down quite a bit and not make it that easy for me to find out. You all right?"

Paul could have been scathing, but he chose to be jovial instead. "Completely and totally annoyed, amazingly pissed off, and probably going to go completely bonkers by the time I'm thirteen, but otherwise, I'm okay." This time it was funny- Howard and I broke up laughing.

"Then it was a success.", Howard said with a grin. "All right, you two- you know that's not gonna happen again any time soon, so you can probably relax for at least a few weeks." 'Probably' and Murphy's Law don't mix. "So, Paul- what do you want to do, as of this moment?" Why the hell did he ask that?

"Other than the usual, which is get the hell out of this place and never come back, I want to hurt someone or something, anything, and I don't care what with. Watching you three murder that bastard and all his pals wasn't enough." Nor, apparently, was our game.

"So I suppose you'll be good at Quake right about now."

"Not good in your terms, just bloodthirsty."

"That'll do." We proceeded to frag the living fuck out of everything for hours, and time passed by as it always does here. I did show those puppies to him- for half-engineered critters that will grow up to be able to rip the throat out of people like Paul, they sure were cute.