No words in existence could completely describe this nightmare. It had everything in it, everything I've ever been afraid of, death, a terrible Howard (only, here, he really was me, my own self torturing me in ways that were worse than anything the Illuminati could dream up, even the mockeries of having fun were awful), every little worry from normal-land magnified to Illuminated proportions, the entire fucking world one of absolute mind-breaking despair. Several times I thought I was actually going to go insane. I screamed and screamed until I couldn't keep it up because my vocal cords were hurting too much. I put on the black suit which some agent had dutifully hung up ('it's your color after all') and walked to the railing, sobbing. I almost, but not quite, wanted to throw myself over headfirst, but of course I couldn't anyway.

Howard must have heard me, and came out wearing his usual, looking at me with a bit of worry on his face. I was afraid, but this was the real Howard, who would never stand to see his dearest friend and most valuable possession come to harm. Of course he figured out what happened and approached me slowly. "Billy.. are you actually.. hurt?"

"No..", I croaked out. God, it hurt to talk. "it's not killing any of my brain cells," I knew that for a certainty. "it's not hurting anything except my vocal cords, and they'll regenerate." He was visibly relieved. "But it was horrible, Howie..", I finished, putting my arms around him. Crap.. I'm hugging him and I actually called him Howie, and he basically owns the planet and can make me do anything he wants with a few words. I didn't know how he'd respond- on an intellectual level I figured he wouldn't get mad, mean, or sarcastic- yet the fear remained.

He responded by putting his arms around me and hugging me back. "Billy, I can't do anything about the nightmares.. you know why." He fucks with the implants, even looking for answers, and I'm at risk of withdrawal. And he sure as hell can't afford to fuck with my brain. He let go and I did as well, and he faced me with a smile. "I'm just going to watch the ocean for a bit. C'mon." I wiped away the tears as if they had never existed (because, well, the reason for them didn't exist either) and followed him to the long, rough, sandy beach. He simply found a good spot and sat down in the middle of the sand. A bit surprised, I slowly joined him. It's not like we have to worry about sand sticking to these suits.

The grade is, naturally, considerably steeper than a normal beach here. I don't know whether the people who manage this place keep it that way- they're obviously not doing anything about the seashells and driftwood all over the place. The water made a constant hissing sound, wave after wave breaking on the sand and flowing back in. Of course I've heard this sound before, seen the waves breaking, but I've never really paid attention to it- I had a lot else on my mind, after all.

The ocean.. what's interesting about it, why is he looking at it? But that's a one-sided question. You might as well ask the same thing about the land- what's so interesting about it? Hey, it's his planet after all, and most of it's covered by water, an inhospitable environment for any land-dwelling creature except seals, penguins, and the like. Between the genetics and the technology, though, I figure Howard and his Illuminati will find ways to better explore and exploit it. But the idea of greedy Illuminated polluters destroying the land and sea isn't accurate, either- Howard has eternity to look forward to, after all, and I know that he isn't in the business of damaging what he owns.

The surf was having an entrancing, almost hypnotic effect on me. It really is relaxing, just another piece of this island's true paradise. And that's what Howard came out here to enjoy. "It is nice out here, isn't it..", I said.

"It has its own peace.", he replied, and indeed it does. "Hey.. dolphins." A few grey objects were barely visible far to the left of where we were, bobbing up and down in the water.

"They probably love it here. Nothing can disturb them.", I said. They knew nothing of Illuminated secrecy, but they likely learned that this is where the fishing boats just don't go. We watched them pass in silence as they jumped through the waves.

After they exited, stage right, I realized I was hungry, but didn't want to get up to eat. Howard turned to me- ah yes, he's hungry and he doesn't want to move either. "Billy-", he started a command, turning to me, before spotting something else. I turned to look at it. Someone with thin, barely-visible footprints and a keen sense of stealth- we both knew who- had left us a covered bowl of normal treats without wrappers and bottled drinks. We smiled and didn't get up for a long time, enjoying the food and the sea breeze, even the drizzle that came down on our heads.

When the food was almost finished, Howard started to get up. "Well, that's enough time looking over the sea. Now we're going to go under it." He wordlessly beckoned and I followed him back inside. For a moment I realized we'd left the empty bottles and bowl behind, but what a silly thought- he has people who pick up after him. Another silly thought would be for me to ask why he's taking me. Because he wants to, duh. And it doesn't surprise me at all that he has a submarine.

The elevator took us to level 4. The submarine dock was small, but functional. A single small sub of a design I've never seen before was there, and Howard simply popped off the top hatch with a yank and I followed him inside. There would probably be enough room for me, Howard, and Sarah to sit in here, but it'd be close. Howard sat into the pilot's seat and directed the sub downward immediately, not even seeming to need to turn it on in any way- he simply pointed the nose upwards and moved it in reverse, then slowly, carefully turned it around as a metal plate slammed closed above us. He finished turning it around and I noticed that the wall had opened up, and he expertly guided the sub out, and moved it for a ways into the dark, deep blue ocean. "Okay, Billy.", he said, getting up from the controls, which looked similar to the ones on the jet. "Sit down."

"Let me guess.", I said, sitting down at the pilot's seat, putting my hands on the steering wheel-like structure on top. "You want me to know how to pilot this thing."

"Yup. First things first- never press the buttons on the wheel, on this vehicle or any other with similar controls, unless you're attacking something." It strikes me not odd at all that Howard's tiny, toy-like submarine has serious weapons. "Left one is missiles, right one is an electrical harpoon. There's autotracking, so don't worry about your aim. Turn the wheel and it'll bank, push it left and right and it'll just turn. Up and down are directly nose up and down, not the reverse like some normal stuff. Pedals are reverse and forward, not gas and brake. And I am going to hang on.", he said, holding onto the back of the chair. I experimented with the controls and realized why he was. This thing is touchy as hell! A bit too much of a turn and the sub lurched to the left. "You can turn it all the way upside down, you won't lose your seat.", he informed me, and I did just that- a seat belt instantly snapped into place, holding me in the chair- as he ran around the submarine's walls as up became down. "Absolutely everything is jet-impeller driven and computer controlled. None of the stuff normals think about when talking about submarines, and the two of us have one and a half hours of oxygen."

"It's like playing a video game.", I noticed, as I continued to move the sub every which way.

"Exactly. Easier to use controls with superior armament and reflexes? The sheeple won't stand a chance when secrecy ends if their shit is just as bad as it is now." I laughed. And here I was thinking I'd need actual training instead of a minute of practice.

He wanted me to keep piloting and told me where to find the lights button- it gave off very little light, but he told me it was heavily amplified by the computerized cockpit glass and various windows on and near the bottom. I kept going for about an hour (he knew where the secrecy lines were and told me to turn around when I got too close), and impressed him when I parked it backwards without getting close to the walls.

Then he told me to do something else I didn't expect- he had me fly the jet the same way, including performing a VTOL takeoff. To my mild surprise, there was an extreme similarity between the jet's controls and the submarine's. Different features, yes, a much different speed level, and different things to be concerned with (special secrecy rules, for example), but fundamentally the same, and before long I was doing incredible barrel rolls and insane loops. Of course, I knew why he was doing it- to make me more effective. It's an inescapable truth: the more I can do, the more he can do with me.

I landed it as I had taken off, we went back inside for another Sarah-cooked meal and had just finished it when-

BZZZZZERT!

I can tell from Howard's face that he hates that sound- it's loud, obtrusive, and annoying. Appropriate, though, as I imagine that a good number of people who are going to call him will share those characteristics.

"Damien Gladstone", the bottom of the screen read, as a fourteen-year-old with a mild acne problem came on it. Gladstone? Isn't that the Bastard's last name? "Master Howard! Congratulations on your succession to Dominator. I would like to individually salute you personally and discuss matters of the future. May I arrive at midnight tonight?" I could tell just by Howard's body language that this was indeed one of his enemies; Damien couldn't.

"You may arrive.", Howard said neutrally, ending the conversation. He obviously didn't want to start pissing people off, at least not yet.

After the screen clicked, Howard leaned back and threw an arm around me and Sarah. I noticed, with mild interest, he was touching Sarah's left breast.

"So he's coming over here? I thought no one was supposed to be on your island except you and your stuff.", I said. His stuff, including the people and part-people he owns.

"Not usually. But since only him and his servant are coming, he's basically at my mercy. Sure, we could do this over the screen, but he probably wants to see this place for himself and get near the Dominator. I don't know why, but I'm getting the feeling that some of them just want to be near me, to put their wet lips to my ass or what I don't know.", he replied in his annoyed-master voice.

"Sounds like taking a field trip to Chernobyl." Sarah grinned and chuckled, as if she was going to say something like that to someone right before they died. And if all this shit's right she'll have plenty of opportunities. And if she's right, these people really do like flirting with danger; who really wants to fuck with someone like Howard? Unless he's actually your friend (or you're actually his friend, I corrected myself), what would you have to gain?

"Yeah, really, as if I didn't flaunt enough power already, they gotta get closer to it, just like those fucking Californian sun-worshippers who wear melanoma as a badge of honor. 'Ooh, hey, look at us, we can burn up like roast chicken!'... stupid normals. Anyway, I have 8 hours to kill. If you've got any ideas, I wanna hear em.", he commanded as he absently fiddled with Sarah's left breast. Great. The Ultimate Secret Master can fiddle with his servant girl's tit but can't even find meaningless ways to burn time like normals can. Then again, if I were him...

"Get on Quake or Quake 2 and snipe with a 15 ping- Reach out and crush someone!", I suggested. I've always loved those games, even on a substandard, second-hand computer. If it wasn't for secrecy, I'd mail id Software the money I stole from them by warezing.. or better yet, just take them over and keep them going.

"That gets boring after the two hundredth gib."

"Mortal Kombat.", I offered.

"Why? I can kick the living fuck out of the stupid comp on all levels, Enforcers the same, and playing against you or Sarah gets very pointless very fast. Come on, Billy. You've lived among normals. What would one of them do?"

"How, your average normal would blow the time watching TV, biking, inviting friends over, or just sleeping. Or getting porno off the Net, or sitting in AOL chat rooms for a couple hours shooting the bull." He made an ugly face at the last, his usual response whenever The Sheeple Of Earth™ act stupid again. Then again... who's acting? That's one of the things I agree with him about when it comes to the world- the average person is a total fucking moron.

I felt my stomach beg for more food. "Or eating.", I added. I distinctly remember Howard vowing we'd live it up in the food department.

Naturally, we were hungry simultaneously again. Dinner turned out to be high-calorie fat-filled ground porkbutt that was burned to hell, chocolate candy, and (chemical-free) potato chips- a menu oozing with cholesterol and saturated fat. That's still something I find funny. Normals die because they eat too much fat and calories- we'd die a painful death if we ate too little. And yes, Howard still eats like a rabid pig, the man-hours put into expensive (and cheap) food crammed down his throat like a dehydrated guy in the desert crams down water. Mouth wide open, soon as the first bite's gone, the next big one gets shoved right in and eaten at the same speed we fight. Sure I gobble, but not like that. Not usually, anyway.

"What the fuck are you staring at?", he said while I watched him cram it down.

"You eating. You're a fucking Viking at a feast. I thought it was just for that one time after that starvation shit ended, but you do it all the time." He started laughing mid-bite, and for a fleeting yet glorious instant I thought he was going to choke to death. (gurk.. choke) pleasepleaseplease.. (gasp... burble.. ahhhh gasp.. ahhh) Damnit! He lives.

He just smiled and told me that now he remembers why he keeps me around, as the work of the normals was gobbled up.

It turned out he killed the eight hours as your average rich normal would- TV (extremely nasty stuff, too), super-speed jetskis, computer games played at head-smashingly hard skill, and sleep- making a point of bringing me along with him every time. Quite a bit of sleep, actually, and when he made the severe mistake of sleeping on the couch with both me and Sarah on the floor next to him, my inevitable nightmare screams woke him straight the fuck up at 11:30. And he was, of course, pissed. And I, of course, was in a cold sweat after his evil (okay, more evil) dream-self commanded the Invisible Ones to turn me into an Enforcer with a large scalpel and no anaesthesia.

"Billy, you fucker, if you're ever about to go to sleep again and I can hear you scream from where you are, fucking tell me!", he commanded angrily, with more pissed-off-boy in his voice than secret-master. Sarah, who Howard often keeps near when he's sleeping now, giggled in a schoolgirl voice. Howard looked at the clock and muttered, then we ate again and once again, we had to crap at the same time. Thank God for multiple bathrooms- and the fact that he will wait for his servants to get off the can before he makes them do things.

A lone Enforcer came running up to Howard a little while after that and asked him what to do with the incoming helicopter, which was giving off authorized Level Two signals. For a brief instant I saw How saying "Shoot it down!", but he didn't, he just told the Enforcer to allow it to land and the Enforcer gibbered into its cellphone in Enforcer-speak. Drats. No gibs from heaven tonight.

I then realized how much my wish for violence has increased, to provide an outlet for the horror. And even back when I was... a normal, I thought violence was cool. Now it's a must have. I wanted to kill, to slay, to defeat, to destroy, not as Howard's weapon but for my own purposes- a thing that I knew couldn't happen, which pissed me off further. But, then again, no one ever gets what they really want, not even the Illuminati- except one person.

The black helicopter landed in the grassy field in an open spot, right on top of Howard's buried jet. Howard winced then sighed. Whatever steel the hiding spot was made of could easily hold a helicopter.

A figure clad in white and a figure clad in black stepped out. For a minute I thought I recognized the servant- nah, I didn't, that's not him.

But it was.

But it.. no way.

But it just plain fucking couldn't be, there's no way he could be here, there's no way he could be caught up in this shit, he's not even involved...