My Evil Twin
by Carl Muckenhoupt (2012)
Genres: Humor

After last night's all-nighter (I had an important report to do for work), I intended to sleep all through the day. But I can't afford to do that. Somewhere out there, my evil twin is plying his schemes, and I'm the only one who can stop him. (An adaption of the They Might Be Giants song of the same name.)

action: %
response: He's up to something. I can always tell. I can just feel it, like a sixth sense. I know him that well. In a sense, we have the same brain.

After last night's all-nighter (I had an important report to do for work), I intended to sleep all through the day. But I can't afford to do that. Somewhere out there, my evil twin is plying his schemes, and I'm the only one who can stop him.



Type ABOUT for more details and instructions for play.

This studio apartment, located conveniently near work and right across the street from the park, serves as my personal headquarters for my hobbies, such as doing volunteer restoration work for the local American History Museum and foiling the plots of my evil twin. My only real attempt at decoration is a framed poster right next to the bookshelf. I can leave to the north.

I can see a presidential figurine and a stack of papers here.
action: About yourself
response: I look exactly like myself.
action: You look at the figurine
response: It's a likeness of Benjamin Harrison, the 23rd president of the United States. Harrison may not have been one of our more exciting presidents - he's certainly no James K. Polk - but he did do something that no other president has done. Generally speaking, once a president loses re-election, he doesn't bother running again, because everyone knows that no one votes for a loser. But Harrison's economic policies were so monumentally unpopular that the incumbent he defeated in 1888, Grover Cleveland, was actually able to mount a successful challenge to him in 1892. Cleveland is thus considered to be both the 22nd and 24th president. I've always liked that anomaly, and without Harrison's particular blend of win and lame, it wouldn't have happened.

Normally it's part of a diorama at a small museum downtown, but someone snuck in and cut one of its arms off the other day, so I took it home to do a little repair work. I suspect that the mystery vandal was my evil twin, but I haven't mentioned this to anyone.
action: You examine papers
response: The product of an entire night's procrastination. I was supposed to be writing a report for work, but I wound up spending the entire night sitting alone in my room playing hangman instead.

Well, at least it proves I was busy. If the police come looking for my evil twin again, I can use it as an alibi.
action: Examine poster
response: It's a signed concert poster showing two guys. I'm not sure which of them signed it. The signature just says "John".
action: You look at the bookshelf
response: The only books on it are a multi-volume set on the writings of Nostradamus. I'm generally more of a history guy than a future guy, but Nostradamus, being a historical figure who wrote about the future, is both, two natures in one. Anyway, his writing creeps me out. I'm not sure why.
action: You read the books
response: I pull one down and open it a random:

That both will occupy the strong places;
Their great quarrel will fill realm and life.

Somehow, that gives me an uncanny feeling. I'm not sure what it is about it, but I'm glad to put it back on the shelf.
action: You read the books
response: I apprehensively pull another volume down and open it at random:

...and so a great noise and bellicose tumult will they make amongst them that all the East will tremble in terror of these brothers, yet not brothers...

As I reshelve it, I involuntarily shudder. What does it all mean?
action: You take figurine
response: Taken.
action: You take the poster
response: Nah, I like it where it is.
action: You look at your surroundings
response: This studio apartment, located conveniently near work and right across the street from the park, serves as my personal headquarters for my hobbies, such as doing volunteer restoration work for the local American History Museum and foiling the plots of my evil twin. My only real attempt at decoration is a framed poster right next to the bookshelf. I can leave to the north.

I can see a stack of papers here.
action: Go north
response: I'm out on Hill Street just outside my apartment building. It's a beautiful sunny day in a quiet residential neighborhood. The street continues east and west, and just across it is the park.
action: Go north
response: This is normally just a pleasant enough place to go for a walk, but today there's a special event in progress: some sort of fun fair held as a fundraiser for the elementary school. Hill Street lies to the south, to the east is an entrance to a concrete tunnel, and a photo booth stands to the west.

The center of attention here is a shiny new cotton candy machine.

A gaggle of children are running around, laughing and playing.
action: You examine the children
response: They seem particularly fond of the cotton candy machine.
action: You examine the machine
response: It's an impressive device, fully automatic, with brass fittings and a huge tub. The kids are gathered around as much to watch it in operation as to sample the results. Too bad I can't stand cotton candy.
action: You eat the cotton candy
response: (first taking the cotton candy machine)
No thanks. Cotton candy makes me ill.
action: Go west
response: Photo booths like these are something of a relic in the age of the cell-phone camera, but they weren't so uncommon twenty years ago. Cheap beige polyester curtains form a neutral backdrop, and a button waits to be pressed.
action: You press the button
response: An unseen shutter goes click, and a photograph slides from a hidden slot and into my hand.
action: You look at the photo
response: It's a photograph of me.
action: You leave
response: This is normally just a pleasant enough place to go for a walk, but today there's a special event in progress: some sort of fun fair held as a fundraiser for the elementary school. Hill Street lies to the south, to the east is an entrance to a concrete tunnel, and a photo booth stands to the west.

The center of attention here is a shiny new cotton candy machine.

A gaggle of children are running around, laughing and playing.
action: You take the booth
response: That's hardly portable.
action: Go east
response: This is a transient place, a space between spaces that joins two alternatives. That is to say, it's a tunnel, which curves from west to south. The damp concrete walls are covered with graffiti, and loud but muffled dance music fills the air, presumably from something on the other side of the tunnel wall.

An abandoned propaganda pamphlet lies forlorn the ground.
action: You examine the pamphlet
response: I flip through it. It's mostly poorly-grounded arguments and appeals to fear, but I'm left unclear about just what it's trying to convince me of. Is it possible for propaganda to be simply propaganda, divorced from content?
action: You listen
response: I think I can make out the strains of an accordion.
action: Go south
response: I'm just outside a rustic half-timbered cottage with a wooden sign displaying a sword out front. It must be new; I don't recall seeing it around before. The street continues east and west from here, but there's some kind of construction going on to the east, making that way impassible. There's a pedestrian underpass to the north.

Beside the shop is the traditional shop-side barrel.

A training dummy stands here.
action: You look at cottage
response: Quaint. I'd call it old-fashioned, if I didn't know it was less than a week old.
action: You look at the barrel
response: It's the traditional small barrel of complimentary goodies to entice customers.

In the barrel are twelve apples.
action: You look at the apple
response: Red, shiny, and tempting.
action: You eat the apple
response: I scarf it down and toss the core.
action: You examine dummy
response: It's one of those straw dummies on a pole that people use to practice sword-blows on. This one is set on casters for easy movement. It looks pristine, as if newly-installed.
action: You enter the shop
response: The door sticks pretty badly, but I manage to push my way through it.

A muscular, red-bearded man stands behind a counter with a built-in display case.

The shopkeeper says, "Welcome! We're having a special customer loyalty promotion today: bring in a weapon, any kind of weapon, and you can trade it for anything in the display case." Glancing at the case's contents, it seems like people have already been taking advantage of this by trading in things that are only marginally weapons.
action: Inventory
response: I am carrying:
an apple
a propaganda pamphlet
a photo
a presidential figurine
action: You give the apple to the man
response: The shopkeeper shakes his head. "That's not a weapon."
action: You examine the case
response: In the display case are a lead pipe, a wrench, a candlestick and a revolver.
action: You examine the pipe
response: A heavy metal object. Hollow, but strong. I could crack someone's head open with this, if there were any reason to do so.
action: You look at the wrench
response: A hefty adjustable pipe wrench, suitable for both plumbing and bludgeoning.
action: You examine the candlestick
response: An elegant shape worked in pewter, this would be a fine decoration for any home. Or it could be used to murder someone.
action: You examine the revolver
response: It's pretty much the only thing in the shop that was actually intended to be a weapon.
action: You give the photo to the man
response: "A nice likeness."
action: Go west
response: My evil twin's dark fortress casts its shadow over Silent Street, which continues east and west. A security camera mounted above the massive iron-banded door tracks my every move. Across the street to the north is the... other park.
action: You go north
response: This is a transient place, a space between spaces that joins two alternatives. That is to say, it's a tunnel, which curves from west to south. The damp concrete walls are covered with graffiti, and loud but muffled dance music fills the air, presumably from something on the other side of the tunnel wall.
action: You go west
response: This is normally just a pleasant enough place to go for a walk, but today there's a special event in progress: some sort of fun fair held as a fundraiser for the elementary school. Hill Street lies to the south, to the east is an entrance to a concrete tunnel, and a photo booth stands to the west.

The center of attention here is a shiny new cotton candy machine.

A gaggle of children are running around, laughing and playing.
action: You go to the east
response: I'm just ouside my neighbor's house -- yes, he can afford a whole house, with a lawn and everything, in this neighborhood. Tire marks on the lawn suggest that someone's been doing donuts here. I don't have any real evidence that my evil twin is responsible, but it's the kind of thing he'd do. The street continues east and west from here, but there's some kind of construction going on to the east, making that way impassible. There's a pedestrian underpass to the north.

The door inside is hanging off its hinges. Someone must have broken in.

A recycling bin is set out on the curbside.

A lawnmower stands here alone, as if puzzled about what to do.
action: You examine the door
response: The door is splintered asunder, as if someone shouldered it down. They'll probably blame local hoodlums, but I think I know who's really responsible.
action: You examine bin
response: The standard blue plastic square bin with the recycling logo on the side.

In the recycling bin are eleven empty bottles.
action: You examine bottle
response: It's a discarded green glass bottle. The label is missing, but it's probably for beer.
action: You look at the lawnmower
response: It's a shiny new top-of-the-line model.
action: You take the lawnmower
response: This is one of those bulky models that can't really be picked up. I could probably push it from place to place, though.
action: You enter the house
response: I'm not just going to barge in without an invitation. Especially now that it looks like the place has been burgled. The police are sometimes less than understanding when appearances are against me that way, even when I explain to them that my evil twin is really the one to blame.
action: You go north
response: This is a transient place, a space between spaces that joins two alternatives. That is to say, it's a tunnel, which curves from west to south. The damp concrete walls are covered with graffiti, and loud but muffled dance music fills the air, presumably from something on the other side of the tunnel wall.
action: You examine the device
response: It's a device of a sort frequently employed by my evil twin. It uses a unique form of electromagnetic emission to zombify the human brain. Naturally, he designed it so that his own brain would be immune to its effects -- but, as an accidental consequence, so is mine! This puts me in a unique position to foil his plans: I alone can get close enough to smash the thing without being taken over.

I knew there was something like this going on. I must have felt the emissions from the device all the way from my apartment!
action: You look at the citizens
response: I've seen this effect before. The only way to free these people from my evil twin's control is to destroy the source of the mind rays. Fortunately, that's right here.
action: Go west
response: I don't want to risk going inside the booth. There's no guarantee that I'd be immune to whatever happens in there.
action: Inventory
response: I am carrying:
an apple
a propaganda pamphlet
a photo
a presidential figurine
action: Smash device
response: I flail at it with my fists, but it's going to take more than that. Some kind of heavy blunt instrument would be ideal.
action: You go south
response: My evil twin's dark fortress casts its shadow over Silent Street, which continues east and west. A security camera mounted above the massive iron-banded door tracks my every move. Across the street to the north is the... other park.
action: You examine the camera
response: As you gaze at the security camera, the security camera also gazes at you.
action: You show photo to the camera
response: "VISUAL MATCH FAILED."
action: Go north
response: Dark, leafless trees claw at the graying sky here. A sinister booth labeled "INDOCTRINATION" lies to the west, Silent Street can be crossed to the south, and an entrance to a concrete tunnel lies east.

A lawnmower stands here alone, as if puzzled about what to do.

A mind control device has been planted at a strategic point in the park's center.

A crowd of brainwashed citizens mill about with dull eyes and slack jaws, perhaps waiting for some sort of signal to begin their rampage.
action: You drop all
response: apple: Dropped.
propaganda pamphlet: Dropped.
photo: Dropped.
presidential figurine: Dropped.
action: Go west
response: My evil twin's day job is in that direction. Thus, that's not where he is. The man is positively allergic to work.
action: You go east
response: I'm just outside a rustic half-timbered cottage with a wooden sign displaying a sword out front. It must be new; I don't recall seeing it around before. The street continues east and west from here, but there's some kind of construction going on to the east, making that way impassible. There's a pedestrian underpass to the north.

Beside the shop is the traditional shop-side barrel.
action: You look at the doll
response: This is definitely my evil twin's handiwork. I've seen dolls like these before. They don't actually function as voodoo dolls, of course, but he uses them to send a message to people. The face on this one looks vaguely familiar. Some obscure politician, perhaps?
action: You look at the photo
response: It's a photograph of my evil twin. I've never actually met him face to face, but I know it's a picture of him because he looks exactly like me.
action: Examine newspaper
response: I scan the headlines. It seems there's been a wave of vandalism and petty theft. Gee, I wonder who's responsible?
action: You take all
response: voodoo doll: Taken.
photo: Taken.
discarded newspaper: Taken.
empty bottle: Taken.
action: You go inside
response: I unlock the door and go back inside.

This studio apartment, located conveniently near work and right across the street from the park, serves as my personal headquarters for my hobbies, such as doing volunteer restoration work for the local American History Museum and foiling the plots of my evil twin. My only real attempt at decoration is a framed poster right next to the bookshelf. I can leave to the north.

I can see a stack of papers here.
action: You drop the papers
response: Dropped.
action: Go north
response: This is normally just a pleasant enough place to go for a walk, but today there's a special event in progress: some sort of fun fair held as a fundraiser for the elementary school. Hill Street lies to the south, to the east is an entrance to a concrete tunnel, and a photo booth stands to the west.

A training dummy stands here.

The center of attention here is a shiny new cotton candy machine.

A gaggle of children are running around, laughing and playing.
action: You go east
response: The funfair is for the enjoyment of the kiddies. I don't see anything in that direction that interests me.

Photo booths like these are something of a relic in the age of the cell-phone camera, but they weren't so uncommon twenty years ago. Cheap beige polyester curtains form a neutral backdrop, and a button waits to be pressed.

I can't go that way.

This is normally just a pleasant enough place to go for a walk, but today there's a special event in progress: some sort of fun fair held as a fundraiser for the elementary school. Hill Street lies to the south, to the east is an entrance to a concrete tunnel, and a photo booth stands to the west.

A training dummy stands here.

The center of attention here is a shiny new cotton candy machine.

A gaggle of children are running around, laughing and playing.
action: Go west
response: Photo booths like these are something of a relic in the age of the cell-phone camera, but they weren't so uncommon twenty years ago. Cheap beige polyester curtains form a neutral backdrop, and a button waits to be pressed.
action: Go west
response: My evil twin's dark fortress casts its shadow over Silent Street, which continues east and west. A security camera mounted above the massive iron-banded door tracks my every move. Across the street to the north is the... other park.

I can see a noose here.
action: You examine the noose
response: No doubt left by my evil twin as a kind of warning.
action: Go inside
response: A muscular, red-bearded man stands behind a counter with a built-in display case.
action: You examine the case
response: In the display case are a lead pipe, a wrench, a candlestick and a revolver.
action: You give the noose to the man
response: "The punjab lasso!" The shopkeeper snatches the revolver out of the display case and holds it at the level of his eyes fearfully. "I don't know how to use that myself, but I know how to defend myself against it. It's good for a trade, sure."

He waits for me to initiate a trade.

[To trade with the shopkeeper, type "TRADE X FOR Y".]
action: You trade the noose for the wrench
response: The shopkeeper tightens his grip on the revolver as if expecting an ambush.

I hand over the noose and the shopkeeper puts it in the display case. He gives me the wrench in exchange.
action: You hit the device with the wrench
response: I triumphantly smash the machine to pieces with the wrench. The people, freed from its influence, confusedly wander away. That's one of my evil twin's plans foiled, but I can't help but feel there's a further mystery afoot. Maybe I should finally try that espionage mission to his inner sanctum that I've been meaning to do.

Now that the crowds are gone, I notice a knife stuck in a tree, where it's been used to carve a message.
action: You examine the knife
response: I'm not sure if it's technically a bowie knife. I've never really been all that interested in such things, and don't know the exact definition. But it's impressive, with notches and grooves and things, and a blade that looks like it's almost a foot long.
action: You read the message
response: The branches of the trees twist into menacing shapes. Carved into one tree is the message "YOU'RE NEXT". What a maddeningly non-specific message. Next for what? Is the message it even meant for me?
action: You show photo to the camera
response: The camera eagerly locks onto the image of my evil twin, and the hidden speaker says "VISUAL MATCH SUCCEEDED. WELCOME HOME, MASTER!" A buzz and a click from the door handle indicates that the door is unlocked, so I let myself inside.

A feeling of pure malevolance seethes from the very walls here, but other than that, it's a fairly ordinary studio apartment. His only real attempt at decoration is a framed poster right next to a suspicious-looking bookshelf.
action: You look at the poster
response: It shows Harvey Dent from Batman, looking particularly malevolent. I think my evil twin sees him as a kind of role model.

I may not agree with him on that point, but I have to admit that Dent is one of the better characters in Batman's rogues gallery. Batman really fights two distinct sets of criminals: you have the caricatured but relatively mundane gangsters and thugs, and you have the flamboyant costume-wearing theme villains. The brilliant thing about Dent is that he can work in either role, depending on what aspects of the character the writer chooses to emphasize. It's like he has a foot in two different worlds.
action: You examine the bookshelf
response: It's filled with fake-looking books with titleless spines.
action: You take the books
response: Just as I thought: it's just a bunch of fake spines.

Close examination reveals a numeric keypad hidden behind the fake books. I shift them around to expose it for easier access.
action: You look at keypad
response: Just ten numbers and an enter key underneath a glowing seven-digit display. I can use it to type numbers.
action: Inventory
response: I am carrying:
a bowie knife
a wrench
an empty bottle
a discarded newspaper
a photo
a voodoo doll
action: Type 5318008
response: I type "5318008" on the keypad and hit the enter key. It's rejected with a little electronic blurp.
action: Type 03241992
response: I type "03241992" on the keypad, although only the last seven digits fit on the display, and then hit the enter key. It's rejected with a little electronic blurp.
action: Type 3241992
response: I type "3241992" on the keypad and hit the enter key. It's rejected with a little electronic blurp.
action: Type 2431992
response: I type "2431992" on the keypad and hit the enter key. It's rejected with a little electronic blurp.
action: Xyzzy
response: There's a flash of light, and I find myself elsewhere...

I'm out on Hill Street just outside my apartment building. It's a beautiful sunny day in a quiet residential neighborhood. The street continues east and west, and just across it is the park.
action: You go inside
response: I unlock the door and go back inside.

This studio apartment, located conveniently near work and right across the street from the park, serves as my personal headquarters for my hobbies, such as doing volunteer restoration work for the local American History Museum and foiling the plots of my evil twin. My only real attempt at decoration is a framed poster right next to the bookshelf. I can leave to the north.

I can see a pocket knife here.
action: You examine the knife
response: It's a litle folding penknife with a red handle. Kind of like one of those Swiss Army knives, but with only one blade.
action: You look at the bookshelf
response: The only books on it are a multi-volume set on the writings of Nostradamus. I'm generally more of a history guy than a future guy, but Nostradamus, being a historical figure who wrote about the future, is both, two natures in one. Anyway, his writing creeps me out. I'm not sure why.
action: You take the books
response: Once more, I dare to peek inside the books or prophecy:

In the year when Apollo comes of age, twins shall arise
Friendly to each other only in times of storm.
One shall always want to start
When the other wants to begin.

I'm pretty much freaking out now and I can't articulate why. No way am I opening those books again today.
action: Inventory
response: I am carrying:
a wrench
an empty bottle
a discarded newspaper
a photo
a voodoo doll
action: You cut the doll
response: Cutting that up would achieve little.
action: Look around
response: This studio apartment, located conveniently near work and right across the street from the park, serves as my personal headquarters for my hobbies, such as doing volunteer restoration work for the local American History Museum and foiling the plots of my evil twin. My only real attempt at decoration is a framed poster right next to the bookshelf. I can leave to the north.

I can see a pocket knife here.
action: You cut the doll
response: On a hunch, I slice one of the arms off. (Ouch!) There's a slip of paper stuffed inside, which I take.
action: You read the paper
response: It looks like a fortune-cookie message, but all it says "You will spend the entire day".
action: Xyzzy
response: Nothing happens here.
action: Xyzzy
response: There's a flash of light, and I find myself elsewhere...

My evil twin's dark fortress casts its shadow over Silent Street, which continues east and west. A security camera mounted above the massive iron-banded door tracks my every move. Across the street to the north is the... other park.
action: You go inside
response: I wave my photograph at the camera and it buzzes me through.

A feeling of pure malevolance seethes from the very walls here, but other than that, it's a fairly ordinary studio apartment. His only real attempt at decoration is a framed poster right next to a suspicious-looking bookshelf.

I can see a slip of paper here.
action: You examine paper
response: It has the number "6962" written on it. Mysterious!
action: Type 6962
response: I type "6962" on the keypad and hit the enter key. It's rejected with a little electronic blurp.
action: Type 2696
response: I type "2696" on the keypad and hit the enter key. It's rejected with a little electronic blurp.
action: Type 006962
response: I type "006962" on the keypad and hit the enter key. It's rejected with a little electronic blurp.
action: Type 020696
response: I type "020696" on the keypad and hit the enter key. It's rejected with a little electronic blurp.
action: Type 6962696
response: I type "6962696" on the keypad and hit the enter key. It's rejected with a little electronic blurp.
action: Type 0006962
response: I type "0006962" on the keypad and hit the enter key. It's rejected with a little electronic blurp.
action: Go north
response: Dark, leafless trees claw at the graying sky here. A sinister booth labeled "INDOCTRINATION" lies to the west, Silent Street can be crossed to the south, and an entrance to a concrete tunnel lies east.

A lawnmower stands here alone, as if puzzled about what to do.

A heap of junk that used to be a mind control device lies vanquished in the dirt.
action: You examine the tree
response: The branches of the trees twist into menacing shapes. Carved into one tree is the message "YOU'RE NEXT".
action: Xyzzy
response: There's a flash of light, and I find myself elsewhere...

This is normally just a pleasant enough place to go for a walk, but today there's a special event in progress: some sort of fun fair held as a fundraiser for the elementary school. Hill Street lies to the south, to the east is an entrance to a concrete tunnel, and a photo booth stands to the west.

A training dummy stands here.

Someone has trashed the cotton candy machine! The children seem to have fled when this happened.
action: You look at the tree
response: Overhead, the rustling leaves provide pleasant shade. On a hunch, I scan all the trees in the vicinity. Sure enough, there's one with a carved message: the number "387". Enigmatic.
action: You examine paper
response: It has the number "6962" written on it.
action: Type 3876962
response: I type "3876962" on the keypad and hit the enter key. It emits a congratulatory bleep, and the bookshelf pivots to reveal a dark staircase leading down.
action: Down
response: At last, I penetrate the darkness of my evil twin's inner sanctum. I wonder if I'll finally meet him here?

Something is wrong. I hear a siren, then black out. When I wake up, I'm in a jail.

Jail (in the cell)
Iron bars separate me from freedom. Clearly, this is a case of mistaken identity. The police should be thanking me, not confining me!

I can see a policeman here.

The policeman says "I hope you rot in there. What did you think you were doing, spoiling things for a bunch of kids like that?" He then turns away and sits at a desk with his back to me.
action: Xyzzy
response: Nothing happens here.

The policeman grumbles to himself.
action: You look at the policeman
response: He looks thoroughly unsympathetic. On his belt is a conspicuous key ring.
action: You look at the key
response: It jangles tantalizingly out of reach.
action: You check your inventory
response: I am carrying:
a pocket knife
a wrench
an empty bottle
a discarded newspaper
a photo
a damaged voodoo doll

There's a knock at the door. The policeman gets up to answer it.
action: Describe the surroundings
response: Jail (in the cell)
Iron bars separate me from freedom. Clearly, this is a case of mistaken identity. The police should be thanking me, not confining me!

I can see a policeman here.

The policeman is talking with a mysterious figure at the door.
action: You examine the figure
response: His face his hidden by his broad-brimmed hat and the turned-up collar of his tranchcoat, but I think I recognize his voice. Could it be...?

The policeman and the mysterious figure seem to be arguing. The latter turns to look at me, but I can't make out his face in the shadows under his broad-brimmed hat.
action: You talk to the figure
response: I start to speak, and the figure focuses his attention on me, his face still in shadow. My blood runs cold at the thought that he's seen my face but I still haven't seen his, and I find my words choked off.

The policeman's face falls and his manner turns apologetic.
action: You talk to the policeman
response: He contemptuously disregards anything I say.

Finally, the policeman turns back to me. "I'm letting you out. It seems this is a case of mistaken identity. Your brother just told me all about it."

Confused? You probably don't really understand how things are between me and my twin.

The thing you have to understand is that we're brothers. Even if we've never been seen in the same room, even if I don't actually know his name, we're really very close. In a way, we complement each other. He does the things that I'd never do, like crimes and atrocities. I thwart him when he goes too far. Well, sometimes. The point is that we need each other. We're bound into a cycle of eternal warfare, and innocents are caught in the crossfire. And I wouldn't have it any other way.