"Howard!!", the man yelled at the screen, apparently a bit panicked and needing help. Donald Simpson. Never heard of him. Wait.. he was the one who laughed at Damien's death, wasn't he? Yup, he was. I remember that.

"Good thing you're close. We need you here, right now. Here's the coordinates.", he said, and they displayed on the screen; this place is in the middle of Canada. I'm close indeed. I don't appreciate his commanding tone, but he does appear to be in genuine need of Dominator help.

"What's this all about?", I asked him.

"A second level's base just got overrun. And the circumstances... are pretty weird. I'll explain on the way." If it's a trap, I don't actually have to land there.

"Ah hell, it should be interesting. This better be worth my time, though." The man nodded, as if to say that it definitely was, then turned off his end of the screen. "Billy! Sarah! Paul! Get ready to fight. We have somewhere to go." They got ready and I used the elevator to go downstairs and get the Micro. I came back up, they were ready, and we were blasting off into the air in seconds. The screen came on with Donald again.

"All right... where do I start... oh shit, how about with this?!", Donald said, and pointed the camera at the blown-open metal entrance of Brenk's base. An Enforcer came out, but it wasn't acting like an Enforcer- I could tell that just by its walking, which was stiff and awkward.

"I'm a little teapot, short and stout. Here is my handle, here is my spout.", it said, in a mockery of a little kid's voice, with strange arm motions accompanying the words, as Donald's Enforcers pointed their rifles at it. I looked on in fascinated horror. It was bleeding from its ears; obviously something was done to its brain. Holy shit- what the hell could do something like that to an Enforcer? "When I get all steamed up, then I shout- tip me over, and pour me out!", it finished, then pulled its gun. It blew its own brains out just as the other Enforcers filled it with bullets. That was.. beyond fucked up...

"JESUS!!", Paul screamed.

"What the FUCK was that??", I asked Donald, hoping for a good answer and knowing I wouldn't get one.

"That's just the beginning. Every three hours or so, one of the dolls comes out and blows up whatever it touches. What you just saw is our most recent attempt to probe the place with Enforcers. We're not sure what to do now. We've sent in two heavily armored Enforcers, but our recon is getting jammed, and any wires or relay beacons we put in just get cut." So.. someone (something?) smart is doing this.

"Okay, what the hell started all this?", I asked.

"The guy's name is Peter Brenk. We thought he was just a bit eccentric, a hobbyist with things like that.. until we saw this. He's got a whole factory down there, and he's helped with a lot of our technology. As I said, he's a second level, and we're pretty sure he's in there. But we... god, what the hell did he do to make those?! We came after we heard reports of trees being blown up from Enforcers who couldn't contact their master. When I sent an Enforcer here, they were... like that. And then so was mine. We've managed to keep a perimeter. The immediate threat is gone, but we don't know what to do about Peter, or even if he's doing this. That's why we've come to you." You should have come to me earlier, Donald, but since this is so odd and unique I'll forgive your mistake.

"Who else is there with you?" Donald answered me by panning out the camera, which revealed three more Illuminati in a tent, apparently discussing strategy.

"Ah... we've got Warner, Mao, and Tim Johnson at the moment. Gates is on his way too."

"Well, this is definitely worth it. We'll get to the bottom of this. First real action I've had in a while.", I replied.

"All right. I've got some other calls to make. Thanks, Howard.", he replied, happy that I'm assisting him (as if I'd do anything else in a situation like this!), before turning his screen off.

"Okay, is there anything at all any of you can tell me about that?", I asked my servants. They better have answers, because I sure as hell don't!

"Howard, how many horror movies have you watched?", Billy asked, obviously in the service of an explanation.

"Not many." The plots usually get too laughable. "Why?"

"Well, in the plots of horror movies, violent dolls and people acting strangely are sometimes included for extra fear. What you just saw could have come from one. The idea is to combine the images of childhood- dolls and clowns and the like- with insanity and violence. Which is what's going on." His explanation, fortunately enough, made sense.

"So whoever or whatever's down there is trying to scare us.", I said.

"Well, I think it's starting to work.", he replied.

"Yeah.. it is. It's bugging me to hell. I'm tempted to give the order to just turn the place into rubble." I could always say the hell with it and blow it up, and in this case it would be a rational, very sensible thing to do.

"Yeah. If I were you, I'd blow the place straight to hell. There's something nasty down there, Howie.", Paul said, a bit scared.

"No shit.", I replied. "I want to know what the hell can do that to Enforcers. They got... re-controlled somehow. You saw the ear-bleeding.."

"I did.", Billy said, trying to visualize what could have done that. "Some machine... of some sort down there put spikes into that Enforcer's head. Must have been faster than lightning. You send any more down there without special shielding..."

"Shit.. if Brenk's still alive, he's probably hiding where that shit can't find him. Enforcers getting spikes through their heads... I haven't been this scared in a while. I can't think of anything that would control those kinds of things and do something like this. I doubt the Anarch or some pissed Illuminatus... might have been that, some other Illuminatus got pissed. But this is beyond crazy. If it was that, someone had a lot of time on his hands and a whole lot of hate.", Sarah said, thoughtfully and slowly.

"And/or a whole lot of dementia. We've got our fair share of mad scientists. I just wonder why anyone would do something this.. this insane.", I said, unable to even begin to understand the motive. Illuminati do weird things, this is certain. But something like this? The planning of an expert and the results of a madman...

I pulled up all the information I could on Brenk. He could have done it- he'd be the ideal person to, actually. Kept to himself for the most part, provided things on command; if he's dead, he'll be annoying to replace, as he's a very good scientist and we need guys like him. Electrical engineering, very good at robotics (and good at solving the famous 'walking problem' of machines.. hmm, he could have built that robot that almost killed Billy..), a master of mechanics of every sort, and knows a bit of mind control technology. The images coming out of his base, from the short amount of time cameras could be brought in, were completely insane. Robots reacting to things that didn't exist, banging their heads on walls, and some guard robots that seemed to have retained their sanity, carrying huge weapons that caused Sarah to mutter to herself and sigh, knowing that she'd have a hard time conducting any operation against things like that.

We went at about mach 6, making the trip short indeed. Before we landed, another video was relayed, this time of the two heavily armored Enforcers. Their armor didn't save them. Bleeding from their ears, their armored helmets broken, they walked out like puppets, waving their left arms jerkily back and forth in the air, as well as their heads, vapid smiles on their faces. This very disconcerting sight was removed by a pair of ordinary Enforcers with rocket-propelled grenades.

"Well, fuck.", I said. I wanted to turn the plane around and deal with more mundane things, like angry Illuminati or assassination plots. Unfortunately, my Illuminati need me for the truly weird shit as well. Sarah went into the pilot's seat and slowed us down rapidly, and we VTOLed to a flat landing on a grassy field.

"Howard, am I going to be in any way possibly useful for this?", Paul asked as we landed.

"Probably not.", I answered him truthfully.

"Then let me just stay in the jet where it's safe and I won't have to face those things, all right? I mean, if I was one of you or had a retrovirus or something, I could. And I think fighting them would be cool. But.. no way." Paul's worried about dying, and if a lot of those things pour out of there, it's a possibility. Even if I got him a suit of heavy armor, he couldn't survive against the kind of force in play here.

"All right. You can stay here for now." That got another line of thought rolling: I should probably have Sarah teach him how to pilot the jet, as well. Although all it's got is fusion lasers- not suitable for keeping secrecy if the beam bounces and cuts holes in clouds- I might want him for air support in the future, even if he'll never have the kind of aim we do.

Billy, Sarah, and I jumped out of the jet, and I shook hands with an aging man who'd obviously dyed his hair brown. He looked like a politician, although I didn't recognize his face from normal broadcasts. "Pleased to meet you, Dominator.", he said, in a politician's voice. "Mr. Simpson and his other colleagues have decided that they could set up a command post in view of, ah, Brenk's facility. They said they've got those things' patterns down to a routine, but.."

"But you're not silly enough to go up there and find out for yourself, right?", I asked. This place back here was a military supply station in miniature, with medical equipment and a small arsenal of weapons, Enforcers, and explosive devices, with more being helicoptered in constantly. A good place for controllers to stay secure while being relatively close to the action.

"Um.. yes.", he said, nodding and smiling a bit. "It's not that Donald's, ah..", he said, trying to be diplomatic.

"No, he's just more confident than you are. If he thinks it's safe enough for him, I'm going up there too, because I dodge bullets and he doesn't. Now where is it?"

"About three hundred meters that way.", he said, pointing. An Enforcer handed Billy and Sarah communicators, and we walked through the light forest and spotted Brenk's base before we came upon the tent.

"Dominator!", Donald greeted me from it, smiling. "You came at a good time. In about... three minutes, maybe you can tell us if you've seen anything like this before." I walked into the tent. A few servants were there as well, as well as Mr. Mao- I remember his name, not much else- and a middle-aged Illuminatus I didn't recognize. I sat down on a portable chair and looked out, waiting.

He did, indeed, have it down to clockwork, as the robot walked out of the destroyed entrance almost exactly three minutes later. It was disturbing just to look at. Eight feet tall from orange feet to orange pointy head and with the face of a nightmare clown, it looked completely doll-like, its graceless legs moving it out the door. Enforcers put holes in it with armor-piercing bullets and it exploded, destroying the entrance further- what left there was of it to destroy. No, gentlemen, I have not seen anything like this before. And don't want to again, for that matter.

"Shit! Why would anyone build something like that?", I asked, and received absolutely no answers. "All right- what kind of strike team would we need to go down there and control the place?" Something to defeat the shit that happens to the Enforcers, then something to neutralize the robots... and probably a lot more other things.

Donald looked as if I had asked a question that didn't really have an answer. "A big one, Howard. We'd need heavy equipment of all kinds, and a lot of time. And even then, the weaponry would probably blow most of everything in there away."

"So what are you suggesting?" If he has any better ideas...

"Nothing." ...he doesn't. "I really don't know. Peter might already be dead. But he's important enough to warrant it.. the problem is, the kind of weaponry on the ones inside is ugly, and the kind of weaponry we need to defeat them will put holes in the place." The atomic shotgun might be a good idea for this...

"Shit, I don't know what the hell... he could be holed up someplace, or he could be masterminding it, crazy as that is. But you're right, he is worth it.", I said, thinking. Maybe if we blasted another entrance.. "Show me the schematics."

The schematics were unpleasant to consider raiding. Ugh. About eight thousand square meters a floor, seven floors, not counting the enormous manufacturing bays. The place is probably brimming with all kinds of threats and potential threats. Dig down to the manufacturing bay and raid from there? Strap bombs to Enforcers, wait until they've reached that controlling machine, and blow them up? Nothing I could think of would keep the place intact, most of it stands a good chance of killing Brenk in the process, and a lot of it would spend a lot of resources. Whatever we do, it'll be a pain in the ass.

"Hey, wait a second.", Billy said. From the tone of his voice I could tell that he had a strategy.

"What?", I asked immediately. Let's hear it.

"Howard, you know how you are, when you want to control something, you don't even have to leave your room, really. So why would some introvert like Brenk go up a few floors, especially if something like this happened? Screw 'not on the top', he's probably on the bottom if he's still alive." Yes.. yes. Billy's absolutely right. Unless Brenk was personally working on something when this happened- in which case he's probably already dead and the point's moot- he'd be down in his living space.

"Holy crap, you're right. Donald- can we efficiently nuke that place floor by floor?", I asked.

"Yeah, we sure can. We won't even damage the air vents. It's worth a shot. But we will lose everything on top, as evidence.." I'm pretty sure we're going to lose a lot of that anyway.

"The database is on the bottom. Even if Brenk has something we don't know about, the research must be in there.", the middle-aged Illuminatus said.

"Then let's do it." I love being the Dominator; I say 'do it' and it gets done. Donald, Mr. Mao, Sarah, and a few more servants immediately got to work on what missiles should be launched where. Technical stuff, and I haven't the experience to contribute to the details. I found a tree to climb and leaned back in its branches, dozing; Billy joined me.

It was decided that helicopters would carefully drop the explosives; Brenk's base had no anti-air defense. It took an hour for the correct explosives to be shipped in, but I didn't mind. It beat the alternative of trying to do a raid with just me and my servants. Boom... boom.. boom. It looked more like demolitions than an operation. Dirt and metal flew into the air with every blast. The air vent was carefully avoided and stuck out of the wreckage like a flag.

As the last floors were blown to bits, we all heard a loud, electronic scream. What the fuck?! It was as if someone had programmed something to scream in agony on dying. Yeah, this is nuts. Either Brenk went batshit insane or someone incredibly twisted got hold of his facility. But to reprogram everything to build things like that... I can't wait until we get some answers out of this.

That was it- it was toast. I got out of the tree and led Billy and Sarah, with a squad of Enforcers, up to the destroyed pit of molten metal and smoke. The excavation machines had already been brought in, and they reached down into the pit, carrying away huge, irregular gobs of wreckage. This is going to take a while, I thought, and then I heard a rumbling and saw a metal spike pushing its way out of the destruction, rising sixteen meters in the air. Panels opened up on its sides... oh, shit.

We ran as fast as we could. Microwave lasers, randomly turning off and on, swung around like gigantic swords. There was gunfire, but not much- the spire laid waste to the Enforcers immediately, firing randomly into the ground, and we jumped and ducked several of its long, wild slashes. I looked right as I ran and noticed that Donald and a few of his people were huddled together, covering their heads, making their survival a matter of dumb luck. Trees were cut in half with loud explosions and we jumped over them, trying to put as much distance between us and this thing as possible. I've never had a plan backfire on me like this before. The place was rubble- who the hell would have thought-

Then I heard a moving beam explode the ground behind me and knew- just knew- that it was going for my chest. I dodged it, and for a minute I thought I had avoided it entirely. Then I looked to my right and saw what I should never have seen.

My entire right arm was neatly sliced off. Blood spurted out through huge burn marks. I looked down and to the right- the appendage was mangled and would probably never be re-attachable; the beam had curved right and torn the entire top part apart. Billy and Sarah were both screaming loudly. I didn't feel a thing. "Sarah!! Give me your communicator, now!!", I screamed at her. Confused, she obeyed, throwing the device into my remaining hand, as she took off her shirt to make a body tourniquet, while all three of us got closer to the ground. The beams were quickly tapering off as missile launchers blew the spire apart. Billy was using his communicator to call for medical help.

I pressed the Ops Leader button and screamed into it, "Blow that thing to BITS!!"

"But Howard, Peter might-", Donald replied, obviously battle-confused.

"I don't give a fuck!!! Bomb the place, that's a fucking direct order!!" The pain was starting to come. My missing limb's stump screamed at me loudly at its loss. Sarah's shirt was beginning to be soaked with blood. I will... survive, I thought to myself. I will survive. I must survive. All I have to do is stop the bleeding... and I'll be A-OK... pain came at me in greater waves and I screamed loudly with full echo. The bombing could be heard in greater volume- Donald was obeying me.

"Dammit Howard.. you all right?", Donald's voice called to me, and I heard the lightning crack of a laser near him as he talked. "I'm seeing a request for a medical unit at your location..", he continued, trying to avoid panic.

"Yeah... I'm fucking fine.. come see for yourself.. AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHH!!!", I screamed, through my second set of vocal cords because the first ones had tightened up.

Time blurred into itself as the medics came with alacrity, took one look at me, and injected me with a nutrient blood substitute, as I laid on the ground, writhing with pure pain. It hurts.. anything.. anything to make this end... I could think of nothing else. I felt myself being moved by experienced hands, as the medical team ensured that I wouldn't suffer from blood loss. They know who I am- and they know that's all they really have to do. I stopped caring what was around me. All I needed to do was just survive long enough to turn this faucet of overwhelming agony OFF...

About fifteen minutes later, the unreality of intense pain did end. I was being flown to Northberg in my own jet, by my own servants, after being carried to the plane (Fortunately it didn't take any beams, that thing is truly expensive to replace) by Enforcers. None of them said anything, but I could see the looks on their faces- worry mixed with some relief.

"Holy fuck...", muttered Paul, as he saw me lower my hand from the wound and take off the plastic, taped bandage with it as the hurt began to completely dissipate, as my body accepted the loss and began the process of undoing it. The bleeding had stopped a couple of minutes ago, and the wound was losing its edge and smoothing over. "Your arm... Howard.. we're going to have to do everything for you now.."

"Quite a few things... and it'll be one of the most annoying one and a half weeks of your lives.", I replied.

"That slow?", asked Sarah.

"One and a half weeks is by itself.. depends on what Northberg can do about it.", I said, grabbing three candy-coated nutrient bars from the back and eating them right up, and then drinking about half the water supply afterwards. Fuck, am I hungry... no surprise, considering what I lost, and what was slowly but surely growing back. A painful reminder of my own essential mortality. If I didn't feel that coming... I would have been cleaved... been in half, and my regenerative power can't take care of that. I'm lucky to still be on this planet. What the hell was wrong with me for coming there in the first place...

"Damn, Howard.. for once in my life, I'm glad I'm not you.", Billy said, wincing at looking at my removed arm.

"Relax.. nothing permanently lost.. not even my pride. But that hurt.." I started to feel giddy and realized it was the endorphin rush.

Paul started looking somewhat nervous quickly, as he realized something. "Howard.. you're not going to use Billy as.. well, uh.. spare parts, are you?"

I thought about it for a brief instant and decided against it. "No." Both of them sighed in relief. Not like it really affects me, and not like I won't just get it back anyway. Other than the obvious annoyances, the only thing it really affects me in is my Quake 2 strafing, and I can just call him in for that. Which I played half-heartedly (to me, anyway. The locals were, as usual, awed and pissed.) on some low-ping normal server while we went over there, as he did the movement. This is getting annoying fast. I can already see it now. I'll be waving my ever-growing stump at people as I use hand gestures, find it hard to eat with one hand, getting dressed will be a bitch... and every day will be spent waiting for it to finally get back to being part of my body so I can use it again, responding to 'How's the arm?' by showing my mutilated part... ugh. Damn it. But I'm not going to chop off Billy's just because I can.

As the landing pad was cleared and the gates to Northberg opened before me, all I could think was 'Ah, fuck, wonder if they can pound it down to six days, or three if I sit in there..'. Imagine my relief with the Day Operator called on the screen with a smile on his face, telling me the good news- the limb was in a growth tank now. Damn! I was expecting it to be a piece of dead flesh, self-digested because of its own blood loss. I underestimated myself and the medical teams.

"How long, then?", I asked, grinning.

"With you? Six hours at most. That was lucky. Any closer and you could have lost some of your lung."

"It was going for my whole body.."

"Well, if it hit where it was going for, we wouldn't be here talking about it. We need to prep you." I left my servants in the plane, walked to the Northberg tram, and selected the medical ward. The tram passed the educational facility where I grew up and I looked in that direction, spurred into remembering fragments of my very early life.

The experiences of the children here now are very different from what they were for me. I didn't have any playmates, not even servants, nothing like the kind of friends these children have. I asked.. I know I asked for some at some point, I had to have. I think I must have been four when I was told I could never have any.. I don't remember what my reaction was, but knowing me now, I probably used the Latin version of 'bullshit' more than once. (Now, as Dominator, I can say that that whole shelter-the-Inheritor business is a fucking idiotic joke, the epitome of bullshit, but it doesn't really matter now, since I'm the last one..) I was moved to the island to live alone sometime when I was six. My imagination, my education, and my electronic entertainment stopped me from being bored.. but before Sarah, I very literally didn't have anyone to play with.

Of course, these kids aren't quite as superior as I am- not yet, I don't think- because they're only partially engineered, the modified sons and daughters of ordinary normal-born Illuminati. It keeps genetic diversity up and allows for a wide range of natural talents, since all their (highly improved) brains are slightly different. The critical stuff- the muscle density, the regeneration, the disease-proofing- is all the same, a fact I know not only from research but from logic. Regeneration has to be effectively perfect or you're asking for trouble.

I suppose I could visit while I'm here, but I'll do it some other time, hopefully on a day when I have both arms and lots of time to use them. The tram stopped, and I walked out and an Enforcer told me which room to go to (I know this place very, very well). The Operator was there waiting. "Are you ready, Howard?", he asked, as he beckoned me onto the soft bed. I laid down on it, enjoying its comfort- I might be here a while.

"As I'll ever be."

He attached a fluid-filled device to my arm, which did what I figured it had to- it re-opened the wound, destroying the 'second-reason' (necessary to stop bleeding) skin, making me scream in pain again (an\'e6sthesia impedes regeneration). The fluid mixed with my blood, its chemicals further encouraging my cells to divide to my body's natural form. Likewise, my missing arm was surely in a similar tank somewhere, steadily drinking the substance and using it to reform itself. If kept in enough fluid for enough time, the arm would eventually grow into another clone. Despite the pain, I eventually fell asleep.

Four hours later, I was woken and informed that the lengths matched. The top parts, anyway. The beam's slash had been diagonal on the arm- while a corner could be attached to my body, only time and fluid would attach the rest. The connection process didn't feel like anything. The Operator himself took notes on the healing- from the look on his face, it was exactly within design specifications. So they do make the plastic on these things clear so people can watch. It grew from the entire arm hacked off... to a deep cut.. to a smaller laceration.. to a small flesh wound.. to nothing in fifteen minutes. I felt a jolt deep inside and realized that was the nerves reasserting their relationship. The muscles, too, were completing their re-attachment. I flexed my hand and moved my fingers, reminding the nerves and muscles where they were and what they were supposed to be doing. Back in business.

Then he had asked me to test it, and I had lifted his fat ass into the air with it (he'd be even more obese if not for his own facility), gently playing throw-and-catch with him by the neck. He had laughed- most people would have felt fear, but the Day Operator knows no fear. I'm certain that every minute he watched me, he took notes. I idly wondered just how much of me is in the partially-engineereds. He smiled as I put him down, my arm quickly losing all feeling and becoming just another part of my body.

"I read the public records.", he said, nodding slowly. "I'm surprised you just didn't nuke the place at first."

"So am I. I didn't foresee anything like that. They find his body?"

"Yes. Pieces of it. He was torn apart long before any of us got there."

"Any info on what caused it?"

"None. All kinds of info on manufacturing and the layers, what kind of shift in production created all those weird robots, what happened to the Enforcers.. but not the least fucking piece of evidence as to what ultimately caused it, and that's the second most important thing I'm worried about."

"I can guess the first. It's about me going and getting myself killed, isn't it."

He nodded. "Yeah. I think it's a subspecie of your hunger, Howard. Your own aggression can spell your doom if you go in too far, even if you know what you're doing. Dammit- I can't tell you what to do, you know that. But you laugh at death like it's something that just doesn't happen to you. You don't sit back and delegate, you rush forward and delegate, like a fucking king rushing into battle. If that is what kills you, we're going to have to make the next one.. less powerful, and God knows I don't want to do that." I almost laughed out loud at the Operator referring to God. Bad habits die hard.

"Because the power breeds the hunger and the aggression, right."

"Basically. I'm just glad that cell divided.. if it didn't, you might not be here now."

Wait a fucking second.. "That cell- you mean you didn't make two, or induce division, that it just happened?"

"Yes, Howard, it just happened. We didn't mean for there to be two of you. We were considering killing one, but I was full of myself, and didn't want to destroy any final engineered product. I came up with the idea for what to do with Billy in about three seconds. Looking back, I'm surprised it worked." His gaze faltered a bit, as if he were looking back into the past.

"That, Operator, was the very definition of a shocking revelation." Of all the shit in the world.. that was dumb luck? A one-in-a-trillion chance? Crap.. that's beyond amazing. Dumb luck! For something as important as that?! For everything that I've used and am going to use Billy for, he wouldn't be here if not for the luck of the draw. Yes, I suppose I'll tell him too.. he'll probably almost crap himself.

"Your mentor never knew. I didn't consider it that important that it was a mistake. Yes, I admit, it was an illusion to keep up our perfect image."

"I don't blame you for that. I do blame you for not deciding on twins earlier."

"So far, we are only human. And me worst of all. Since it's time to tell secrets, I'll tell you a couple that I've nuked out of the records." It couldn't be that important then. Probably something personal-history related. Higher-level Illuminati have the privilege of nuking (destroying completely and utterly, retroactively obliterating out of existence) their personal histories of things that happened before their Illumination, assuming they were taken from the normal world- which I'm getting a feeling he was. "Howard, I'm not a native-born Illuminatus. I was taken from normalcy." Yup. "I went through eight straight years of public school before someone caught my intelligence and I disappeared, went straight to the Missing Persons list. That's why I prefer being called Operator- I hate personalities." Of course. Because of our influence, personality is twisted out of its natural form in the normal world, and even with most Illuminati, childhood experiences still stick. "And for all my experience, I sometimes get the idea I'm not up to snuff. So if you think I'm saying that you're not perfect, which is undefined anyway, take a look around you." He's trying to manipulate me subtly with long-used methods, probably knowing that I'd detect it anyway. I can forgive him- he's doing it in my interest, which also happens to be his; he's trying to keep his greatest creation alive.

"Relax, Operator. If I was that suicidal, I'd be dead already. And if you weren't up to snuff, you'd be replaced.", I said with a smile.

Someone had the foresight to have a new suit brought here- my size to the tenth of a millimeter- and I kept the old, mutilated one as a reminder of my own mortality.

When I did finally return to the jet, Paul's eyes bugged out of his head, almost literally, as I sat between him and Billy with two arms intact. "Holy fuck.. already?"

"Yup."

"No way. That's insane."

"No, insane would be a fourth of that time. That would also be nice.", I replied with a grin, as Sarah chuckled and started flying us back home.

"Fucking.. you don't feel anything if I do this?" He was good at determining the spot where the two parts met, as he reached across my body and poked the area with the tips of his middle and ring fingers.

"I feel you poking me." Billy started giggling. Paul slowly withdrew his hand.

"Damn, Howard.. other than the arm, that operation was amazing. All that annoyance you saved.", Billy said.

"Yeah, no kidding."

"It could have been worse, you could have ran us down there like some RPG's dungeon run or something.", he noted.

"Was that what you were thinking?"

"Yes!"

"Strange, because I was thinking that too, until I remembered what the better part of valor is. Oh, and Billy, there's something else you should know."

"And that is.."

"Our cell division happened by chance." He immediately began laughing.

"Bull-shit! Happy April Fool's Day to you too, Howie!"

"The Operator just told me. Total accident. Took him three seconds to think of what he'd do with you." He stopped laughing and took about a second to ponder my words.

"Okay, I laughed already. No joke?"

"No joke."

From mirth to rage in one second, the albinism adding to the look of pure fury. I'll have to remember that.. it's how others see me all too often. "That FUCKER!! That absolute shit-eating fuck monkey! Instant decision for him.. I suppose he's too valuable to let me just crush his head?"

"He is. That is one man I actually trust." Billy just sighed.

"Damn it. Figures. Plans my ass, they just found some luck and ran with it. What the hell were the odds of that cell dividing like that? Unless they fucked up somehow, which they don't.."

"Somewhere between 'low' and 'nil'.", Paul offered.

"Okay, that's the final nail in the coffin of sanity. Total blind luck. Gotta love it. I knew our places were a coin flip but that.." He got lost in deep thought, shaking his head slightly. I'll give it to him for this one- this place is just as fucked up as he's always been saying it is.