[ WP ] You and your Arch Nemesis are forced to save the world together .

There's a funny thing about arguing with a madman in a capacitor charging station. The loud cackling thundered and bounced off the gray glossy walls. It was so deafening that Whitacre had to pause frequently to be heard. `` Why... did you... even... come here?... I... have... the necessary... permission.... You... ca n't... stop me!'' 
 
 The magnetic drill finished charging and began to spin, the giant magnesium alloy drill descended into the pre-bored hole. The charging sound stopped and was replaced by the sound of tons of earth and stone being crushed, pushed and pulled. The high wine of the electric motors. 
 
 The bastard prepared to shoot me, he sneered, `` And besides asshole, there's no smoking here.'' One of his men took no sympathy in knocking the fix-stix out of my mouth with a swift delivery of a fist. 
 
 Now this would be fun. Of all the drunken, wasted losers the agency could have sent, in their infinite wisdom, they send their worst drunken wasted loser. Me. 
 
 I yelled back, `` the council changed their mind. Your project is cancelled.'' I smashed my fist against my chest, hitting the concealed trigger dead on. 
 
 I do n't pretend, nor care, to understand this EMP-thing the lab rats strapped to my chest. But I did carry the worry of the delayed response given to me when I inquired if it's discharge would leave me anatomically intact. There might still be time to convince a woman, one known for making bad decisions, to pop out a few of my brood. 
 
 Whatever blast was supposed to occur, was not seen. But the battery array Whitacre was standing next to was keen to set him on fire. He flung his arms around, followed by his body. As if trying to find a pool of water. Not bad for his first fire dance. Nine out of ten. 
 
 His last lurch was into a the power relay causing a short that brought the drill to a halt. After shaking violently for a few seconds what was left of Mr. Whitacre fell to the floor. 
 
 The stench of the smoldering corpse spread throughout the building, notifying his minions that their next paycheck was being withheld indefinitely. So they fled as the facility began to burn. They got the memo. 
 
 I lit up a cigarette, `` this one's for you, shithead.'' I was glad I was able to share one last moment with Mr. Shithead.
