The moment of truth is nigh. Figures. We lay around for weeks and weeks, nothing happens, then boom, he has to be somewhere in person and some sub-group wants to talk to him at the exact same time. Does he decline and save it for a later time? Nahhh... why would he do that? He'd rather have some more fun by sending his clone to do one of the jobs, flaunting his power, saying to the rest of them 'Ha! You don't even know if I'm really me.' while doing a thing that is fundamentally impossible: being in two places at once. Then again, he's always been a nasty one-upsman and he did prepare me for something like this. And it's not like I could have said no...

Boredom and jet planes still mix and I paid more attention to my never-idle brain. I had brought Paul; I doubt Howard would have gone alone, and his most important command was 'Above all, for this meeting, do as I would do.' He had taken Sarah to make sure that no one tried to kill him; of course, if someone did try, the idiot's in for a quick trip to Hell anyway. She's just there to look menacing. Paul isn't combat-trained and doesn't have fingernails of death, but the person I'm visiting, second level Michael Stevenson, didn't have any information about exactly how much training he had received and what kind of weapons he carries; as Sarah said, muzzle velocity is not affected by age, experience, or even aim. Besides, with one of us being Howard, Mike wouldn't have the balls to risk guessing wrong.

Didn't I hear of a book about this sort of thing? Dammit.. what the hell was that. Emperor? Courtman.. noo.. pauper.. That's it. The Prince and the Pauper, by Mark Twain. I called it up (having learned how to configure the autopilot) and in seconds I was reading it.

"Oh, geez. I almost can't believe you're reading that.", muttered Paul. "It fits this so fucking well."

"You've read it?"

"Know the plot. Read it at your speed. It gets boring."

Ordinarily, it would have, but given its relevance, I read every word and found myself almost memorizing it while enjoying Twain's sense of satire. I put myself in the position of Tom Canty and, no matter how hard I tried, simply could not visualize myself admitting that I wasn't the King and letting someone else take my place. But that's just me..

Eventually, the jet came to a halt at Michael's mansion. I jumped out and looked around- it's normal-grade material. He obviously lives the 'double life'. Guards everywhere, pool, tennis court, and large mansion with marble facade. We walked down the cobbled road into the too-big double doors, pushed them open, and I almost broke out laughing when I saw what I did. A very large, high-ceiling room with a dais, about eight high total, with a large throne on top of it. A viewscreen covered the right wall. Everywhere there was opulence, soft carpeting, chandeliers, the works- Mike's got an ego. Oh well. Doesn't bug me. Mike turned the throne around in typical corporate/bad guy fashion, and looked at me. I. Am. Not. Impressed.

"Master Howard!" The way he said 'Howard' bugged me slightly. "So good to see you here." He's got an attitude to match his mansion. Oh well.

"So, what do you want, anyway?"

"Ah, yes, down to business." I'm not really sure why, but this guy is getting on my nerves. "Before you ask, we're not a true sub-group, just a loose confederation of-" His viewscreen buzzed and he turned it on with a console at his too-big throne. "The Dominator, or his clone?", he asked no one in particular- the viewscreen showed Howard coming to the front of the mansion, opening the door- and then I turned around to meet him face-to-face as he walked up to me with his usual stride. Why is he here? And this was just going to get interesting, too.

"Howard! What are you doing here?"

"Stupid jokers called it off, so I wanted to talk to Mike in person." Howard was a tad bit miffed about it- I imagine I would be too, had I been called halfway across the world for a no-show.

"Damn. There goes that. Surprised you showed up in front of him."

"Pfft. Not like he couldn't have searched the records and found out anyway." Something's wrong here. I don't know what... I'm just getting the feeling that something is wrong. What is it? Better question- why is he exposing himself? This is strange..

"Oh well. Want me here while you talk?"

"Yeah. And one more thing, Billy- kill y---" His speech was punctuated by Paul whipping the shotgun out of his black trenchcoat and cleanly blowing his head off. Pieces of metal flew out in a wide spray. Bits of bloodless scalp flew across the room. Metallic skeleton, surrounded by fleshlike substance, smashed into steel floor with the thump of a dead body, not the clang of a robot. When Paul had done it, I wondered how he could- then when I saw the results, I wondered how I could have ever been fooled for a split instant.

"Oh shit!!", screamed Michael Stevenson, acutely aware of his own damnation. What was that Howard told me? Do as he would do? I know exactly what Howard would do in a situation like this. And it isn't going to be exactly pleasant for Mike. "Enforcers!!", he yelled, hoping that they would kill me and save him from his certain doom. Six Enforcers came out of hiding and I whipped the guns out of the weapon-carriers cross-armed, blowing the Enforcers' heads off in rapid succession, starting with the outer two and going in. Only three quick bangs were heard; the Enforcers probably saw the bullets coming, but they never saw the arms. I then put the guns back in the same manner that I had put them in. Bullets are not necessary for him.

Mike pressed a button on his throne and it was starting to descend. Without hesitation, I rushed up the stairs to him and ripped him out of it before his supervillain-style getaway could even come close to working, pulling him out before a plastic bubble could enclose the chair with a snap. Pity. I wonder if that thing would have kept going, at the loss of incoming- or outgoing- limbs? That would be a way to die, killed by his own escape apparatus, the Illuminated plastic cracking his bones like a hammer and anvil cracking a nut. Oh well. There's lots more ways to terminate this fucker than that.

I put my back into it and flung his struggling body one-handed down the dais, and onto the metal floor, where friction was low. He bounced once and hit the wall between the entrances with a loud thump, clutching his head and moaning. Paul just stood and shook his head, knowing what was about to happen. I hopped down the few steps, grabbed his neck with my right hand, and lifted him into the air.

"Tell me, Mike, why would someone with so much to lose as you and so much obvious planning ability do something so stupid as that? Tell the truth and this won't last long."

"No, no.. it wasn't what you're thinking.." I pulled out a pistol again and blew his right kneecap off. He screamed.

"Information, Mike. Information or pain."

"They.. they want to kill you. They... they, they said that.. that you would be a threat.. they said that you'd be the doom of us all, they threatened to kill me if I didn't cooperate.."

"You're still lying to me, Mike." I doubt that any more pain would cause him to tell the truth.

"No, no.. please believe me, please don't kill me!" I put the gun to his forehead and left a grisly, greyish-red exit wound on the wall, and let his corpse fall to the ground with a thump. I then used his screen to have Paul contact Howard (don't want to confuse the people on the other end), who was well into the meeting, and was almost stupefied at the story when I told him what was going on. He told me he was coming, but not before telling me to search for evidence- I reminded him of his own danger, while looking around for anything obvious, and he showed the thing I hate watching him show: fear. What kind of person tries to kill the Dominator's servant with Illuminated designs? It's like they're better than us... they conspire to kill us and we're not even sure who they are. Mike had to be one. He was a fucking second level... but what if the mastermind is a fifth... ugh. I extended my search to the computer and Paul began searching Mike's body. Damn, how the hell did Mike know.. and how the hell did Paul know?

The search turned up nothing. Nothing dealing with the robot, nothing dealing with records, nothing remotely involving any of this. I searched books, I searched databases, nothing. Even his personal files were completely devoid of evidence. Perhaps he had done the obvious and simply not written it down... we stopped searching after about twenty minutes. There was nothing to be found. "Paul... how did you know?", I asked with some wonder. In retrospect, its behavior was really weird, but there was nothing in its mannerisms.. Paul's a normal, if he knew, I definitely should have..

"I've been trying to figure that out. I'm not sure. Somethin' in his speech, maybe? I think he didn't move right. Anyway, I just knew, like it was so obvious or something. Shit. Forget immortality, Billy. We'll be lucky to see fifteen if this keeps up." He wasn't really kidding. The truth of what he said crashed down on me. Is something Howard's doing or not doing causing this? What's with all the assassination attempts? And if he knew it was me- only a servant- why would he try to kill me at the risk of his own life? Paul wondered the same thing, staring at the body. I squatted down and waited for Howard.

Three hours later (damn, he must have been going at super speed), the sounds of a jet-helicopter hybrid were heard in the background and Howard came in to find us empty-handed, with Sarah close behind. "I didn't think there would be anything.", he muttered. "Fuck." He stopped to look at the robot's remains. "Well, this'll go to headquarters, but who the hell manufactured it?" He then glanced at the corpse that was once Michael Stevenson and shook his head slightly. "Damn it..", he muttered. "Damn it!! I want to know why!! What is wrong with these people?!" Had he not been the color he is, he would have turned beet red- as it was, he was blushing with anger.

"Don't look at us.", Paul said. "Stupidity burst?"

"Yeah, obviously.. something along those lines. He knew who you were, Billy. He knew.. he just knew." The same reason Paul blew away the robot clone. He just knew, too. Is there something I'm missing here or is this all just insane? "He probably predicted my moves." Oh. Damn. It would make sense.. he didn't need any special clairvoyance to figure this one out, just a good guess. That.. nutjob.. risked his fucking life on a good guess.. guessed right, but died anyway. "It's a good thing you caught it."

"I didn't. Paul did. It was in mid-sentence when Paul blew its head off."

"You mean that if you didn't bring... then.."

"Bingo." A wave of pure, unrefined hatred emanated from Howard.

"Okay, it's official." Howard strided up on top of the dais, took the keyboard on Mike's throne, and called up the editor of the Real News, who immediately perked up at Howard's calling him from Mike's terminal. "Let it be known, to you and to everyone you report to, that I fucking hate this. I want to know who was responsible for trying to harm the property of the Dominator; I want to know where that robot clone- don't worry, editor, you'll find about it later- came from, and I want to know what a motherfucking sec-ond lev-el is doing trying this shit. That is all I have to say. Anyone with information should go public about it or risk my wrath." His wrath being more pain, more destruction, more compact anarchy for the higher-ups who felt stupidity attacks coming.

Howard also had Enforcers with him who seized anything and everything, the full team, listing everything as evidence, making a mockery of the FBI. They'll feed him and the Real News a report later. I suppose it'll be interesting reading material.. but I'd lay 100:1 odds that there'll be nothing of value in it.

"Billy, I...", he began, and then said nothing. What the hell could he have said? There's nothing he can tell me to do that would prevent this- and he already knows that if he comes near me unexpectedly, I'm going to be testing him if there's any remote chance someone got a hold of a similar robot.

"Forget it. He's dead, and we're wise to the tactic. Can we just go home and pretend none of this happened?" I had no desire to remember anything that happened this day. To think that people would impersonate him- just for the sake of killing ME! Hello?! I thought I was the fucking less important person in this picture... but the fact that it was a vulnerability, and could become one in the future.. no, I'm going to fucking make sure every time now.

"Except for whatever I'll have to say regarding it, yes. Let's get out of here; I don't like looking at that.", he said, motioning to the decapitated robot and Mike's nearby corpse.

Sarah had already taken her cue and got in the cockpit- the three of us hopped in and we were gone from that place in the usual fashion. Howard leaned back and sighed, Paul looked immensely relieved, and I was ready to kill something. If I'd have known I'd be this nervous, I probably should have literally torn Mike apart to work off the anxiety. I doubt there's any evidence on his person.. but what did I lose? Shit, that was a quick decision, he might have named his backers if he had them..

"Ya know, Howard.. I think I made a major mistake back there."

"What?"

"I didn't torture him enough to get the truth.."

"Wouldn't have worked. He probably had several ways to kill himself on- or in- his body. Torture him and he just dies."

"So I guess Sodium Pentathol.."

"He'd kill himself first. Even if you did manage to somehow incapacitate him, Billy, as soon as he woke up, he'd do some small movement and axe himself. It's almost certain, taken for granted, that anyone doing anything like this for anyone else's benefit is going to kill himself if caught. And if we do get information he was told by someone, it might be misinformation or just bullshit."

"And if it was for his own benefit.."

"Then it doesn't matter now, does it?" We both laughed. Howard popped open the screen, on some random impulse, went to Recent Documents, and found what I've been reading. Paul bit his tongue. I said nothing. "I remember reading this a couple years ago.. and I remember wondering why Edward never used Tom for a duplicate." Paul went into paroxysms of laughter and Sarah just cackled madly. I bent over a bit and just chuckled rapidly and hard, barely breathing. That's just funny. "I know, that was just the most fucking ironic thing I have ever said, especially now.", he said with a grin. That's just screwed up.

He turned to me then, his face turning serious. "Billy..", he began in a still-friendly voice, "I can accept losing servants on a mission or in my defense, or similar circumstances. Comes with the territory. But there is no way- and I mean none-" His right hand was gripping the seat firmly, tightly compressing the soft cushion, his voice growing in ferocity. "that I am going to lose any of you to that line of BULL SHIT!!"

Paul gently gripped Howard's left arm. "Thank you, Howard. A lot."

"No problem, Paul."

As the jet continued on its way, I realized something I hadn't thought about before- I was actually being comforted by the thought of a horror I previously would have considered evil beyond imagination. Yes, there's no way out, but at least I'm not going to die there...