“Weber…” he said in a calm, collected voice.
     “Yes?” Weber replied.
     “You do realize I’m going to have to kill you…”
     “Oh, really?  And how, may I ask, are you going to do that?”
     “If I have to sell my soul to the devil, I will kill you…”
     “You mean you haven’t already?!” Weber laughed.
The picture that had appeared mire moments ago was Trent, in an electrified 
cell.
     “Well, if you’re going to kill me, no harm in doing this…” Weber 
grinned, then pushed another button on his desk.  The cell Trent was in 
opened, and in walked several guards.  They pointed their machine guns at 
Trent, and he could see flashes of light coming from the barrel, and Trent’s 
body being shot up, blood pouring on the ground.  Even without audio, he 
could almost hear the gunfire.
     He stared at the scene a few minutes, clenched his teeth, and looked at 
Weber.
     “Weber.  All the things you’ve done…all the things you’ve made…before I 
was just content to kill you and get it over with…now I’m going to make you 
suffer…”
     “Ah, then this won’t matter either!” Weber laughed out.  The picture on 
the screen changed, and there was Pat and Scyther.  More guards.  More guns. 
  More blood.
     He just sat there, analyzing the scene.  His anger building.  Weber 
laughing.
     He could feel his muscles tensing up, his blood rushing faster.  He 
jerked his arms, and the bindings shattered.  He didn’t say anything, just 
stood up and jumped over the desk and had Weber’s neck in his hand.  He 
stood up, raising Weber out of his seat.  He walked over to the window, 
smashed Weber through it, and held him there.
     Weber just laughed.
     “What’s so funny you homicidal manic!?”
     “Look!” Weber said, still laughing, pointing to the screen.
     On the screen was Weber.
     “Greetings!” the screen Weber said, audio now enabled.  “I see you’re 
now royally pissed!  Too bad.  Killing that will serve no purpose.  It’s 
merely a clone.  A genetic duplicate of myself.  We’ve been making them for 
awhile now.  About, oh…since you were born!” screen Weber said, smiling.
     He looked back at the thing he held in his hands.
“Is that what the fucking thing was I was fighting before!” he shouted.
     “Why yes.  And no.  Ha!  It’s just too funny!  But sadly I’m not going 
to tell you!  You can find that out in the after life.  Must be going now…so 
many continents to conquer, so little time…”
     With that, the screen went out, and raised back into the ceiling.
     He looked at the thing, the clone, and thought of something.  He then 
smiled, and let go.
     The clone of Weber fell the couple dozen floors to the ground.  As the 
clone fell, a giant robot flew up and hovered at the window, a gun of some 
sort pointed at him.  On some speakers the voice of Weber came.
     “Now, son, just…”
     “Don’t call me son you sick demented freak!” he shouted out, then 
jumped at the robot.

     “The fait of the world is in danger.  We need him now.  The others will 
not survive.”
     “Wait.  One more comes to the country.”
     “Yes.  He may prove useful in the battle ahead.  We shall move him as 
well.”
     Twelve figures around a table discussed the fate of the world.

     “I’m beginning to loose patience with you.  Do you have any idea how 
much those robots cost!  No matter.  Watch this!”
     He stood in the center of a ring of destroyed robots, his clothes in 
rags, his body beaten and bleeding.  He looked toward the building, and a 
giant screen arose.  A picture was on the screen.  A picture of Japan…
     *My God.  Not…*
     …and the events of project 546 occurring.