What's worse than Illuminati demanding the retrovirus? Illuminati demanding that some other Illuminatus not have the retrovirus. One particularly vicious pair of enemies, ex-lovers who had a horrible falling-out, had asked both to receive it and that the other not receive it; the twins had called them back up and put them on the screen with each other. The ensuing fireworks made for some decent entertainment, and the twins made sure to record it and make it available for public viewing. If there was no such thing as secrecy, they would have made it really public and hosted the file themselves. The swarthy, toothy man was an asshole and the frown-lined, makeup-laden woman was a bitch; in a sense they deserved each other and the twins half-expected them to get back together after this.

But there was more after that, a daily flood of requests, demands, complaints, and all sorts of other bullshit, half of it not even mentioning the retrovirus in the least, as if all six thousand of them were actively trying to pester the twins at once, hoping that their frustration and distraction would lead to them making more favorable judgments for the petitioner just to get him off their screen. It came as a relief when a man came on the Duumvirate's screen and simply smiled at them. He didn't look that strong- at maximum age he was probably a bit weaker than one of the twins at fifteen- but he exuded a confidence all his own, his body language and posture conveying absolute command.

Howard saw the resemblance and made the connection instantly. "You can't fool me. Daddy." William was surprised for a split instant- this young, solid man was the same fading, wrinkled geriatric he had intimidated years ago. As with the Operator, the previous Dominator had undergone a tremendous change in appearance.

The twins wondered how much of the visible power was his own and how much was the retrovirus; when he actually was as young as he appeared, the Illuminati were far too insecure in their power to take pictures of themselves, particularly their insulated Dominator. He'd obviously made at least one modification, as he decided that red eyes were worth it. Striking, at the least.

This was one of the few times the twins could be easily told apart. Howard was relaxed, glad to see his mentor's survival was assured. William's eyes burned with the white fire of pure hatred. He said nothing- just stared. Staring directly into someone's eyes had its usual effect.

Howard and the previous Dominator waited for him to say something. He did not. His constant stare- blinking at perfectly-timed ten second intervals- was sure to put a damper on the conversation.

"If you want your old position back, I have some bad news for you," Howard said. William cracked no smile.

"Being nagged at by six thousand dumbfucks? You can keep it."

"You could have warned me," Howard said.

"I did warn you. They just didn't let me use the language I would have liked." 'What, they stopped you from swearing?' William thought reflexively, but still found no humor.

"You know, for all the things you told me about how the mass of Illuminati influenced your decisions and forced your hand, none of them are happening to us." At least not nearly to the same extent.

"Mm. That's because they're fucking afraid of you." 'Either that or you were weak sauce', both twins thought. And great- the vulgar old bastard had went for a double larynx of his own. "And your enemies are so scared they don't know what else to do but keep hatching wildcat plots to kill you." Which was the prevailing wisdom. The prevailing wisdom also maintained that having scared enemies that nobody wanted to join was better than the alternative.

"If you recall, our enemies' organization was hatched in a time when they did not fear their Dominator so much," Howard said evenly, his voice smooth and deadly cold. "With his decisions influenced, key positions could be subverted, and critical elements could be allowed to be placed." The previous Dominator's face went almost as white as the twins'. "Furthermore, since that Dominator allowed everyone to influence him in that way for the promise of peace, tracking the rogues' maneuvers is impossible."

"It was a different time! Everything was different. This whole system that we use now was fucking finalized in the early 90's. I swear, I couldn't afford to be a hardass back then! I wasn't super- I wasn't invincible the way you are. Not even close. You know that. So if you're going to do something to me for it you might as well just do it."

"Oh, I'm not going to do anything to you. I can't speak entirely for him, though," Howard said, gesturing a thumb to William, whose face was fixed in a sneer.

Howard's Daddy swallowed, once, and looked his un-son in the eye. "Can you accept my apology now that I'm engineered?" he asked.

"Would you have given it if I were still implanted?" The answer was obvious and the previous Dominator didn't reply. "Then get the fuck off." With ice on one hand and boiling acid on the other, he had little choice. Would William kill him? He realized he'd never know; it'd be an instant death beam to the back of the head.

"You know, if-", Howard started.

"Don't," William interrupted him. He was pissed indeed. "He was never my Daddy, Howard." A brief silence; he didn't need to tell his brother what birthday present was given by who to whom. "Whatever he did for you, whatever he taught you, I had to learn the long way around. And if he were standing here right now, I would rip out his God damned lungs. Then I would desiccate them, and bring them to the next Illuminated meeting that we speak at. And then I would throw them into the first row as a reminder."

"Then go do it," Howard said. "Would I stop you?"

William made a move to get up, then immediately sat back down. "Politics. If I actually did that, how would it look?" That was an excuse, but it had its own merit. It was a horrible thing to consider. Engineereds killing other engineereds over something as petty as two years' worth of personal revenge? The Dominator doing this? What would the kids think? "Howard, let's pretend for a moment. Pretend there was only one of you. You're the Dominator, I never existed. Okay?" Howard nodded, expecting something different from how he actually continued. "Now, pretend you age. You need an heir, an engineered immortal to take over the world permanently. Okay. The cell divides. Your head engineer has a plan to send one of them off into normal land for ten years before being enslaved to his twin. What is your response?" William actually didn't know the answer to this hypothetical. Any there-is-only-one-of-us postulate would apply to him as well. If his twin, more calm about this, looked him in the eye and told him that he'd go along with it...

Howard nodded again. "Yeah. I'd tell him it was a bad idea, ask him what he was thinking, and wonder if his lack of judgment had adversely affected the engineering. But, Billy.. that's me. Asking what I'd do if I had the mental limitations of a normal? You act like I've forgotten the basic truths of our existence. Have you forgotten that we're fully engineered?" He was smiling, and Billy felt his rage dissipate. "There is no me-as-a-normal! And if there was no you, I'd be either still implanted or dead!"

"Howie.. even we are prisoners of the past. Things happen, quantum waves collapse, and there's no going back."

"Anything that could do that would already rule the world. By definition. I can't see us ever having that kind of power. Hey! Future-us! Send us a sign! And tell us if Future-Daddy still has his lungs!" Finally, Howard had gotten his brother to laugh.

Nothing, of course. The laws of physics held true.

They read messages, sighed, and continued to deal with the swarm of Illuminati vocally unhappy about the retrovirus policy, making sure it was just vocal. It was a relief when Jeremy and Joey came over; it gave them a good excuse to ignore all but the most urgent messages (and both of those were mislabeled; the twins gave the hapless Levels a reminder that if something is flagged urgent it better be fucking urgent) and relax.

And discuss politics. Joey tentatively raised the fact that the six of them were discussing political issues while mowing down hordes of zombies; the twins expressed the opinion that all political discussions should be conducted while playing cooperative games, and that the Illuminati having beefs with each other should at least try it before calling up their Dominator. It was difficult to get into heated ideological arguments while the guy next to you was saving your ass from a rotting, berserk mutant three times your size, after all. Sarah remained convinced that operational concerns had final authority over political ones, and that if those thousands of Illuminati really wanted the retrovirus they should accept implantation and subsequent unimplantation, with other Illuminati they trusted there to observe the process. The development of a real implant-feedback prevention system would, of course, trigger ideas in certain servants, but that was just another political concern after all. To do otherwise was, according to her, accepting irrational behavior and a bad idea.

But behavior was irrational, most of the males answered (with a brief pause for full attention on the oh-fuck hundred-foot monster in front of them), and although it might be impossible to predict everything an irrational person might do, it was possible to come to many reasonable conclusions about how they might act and what would make them start actively opposing the Duumvirate; political concerns became operational ones. It was also offered that doing what they did with Jeremy and Joey was ultimately pointless, as any real rogue never would have let himself get into that situation to begin with; their thought processes meant they'd avoid it. Sarah mulled on that one, even through the final boss, some hideous multi-stage skyscraper-sized monstrosity coded in by some particularly evil engineered with way too many gun turrets embedded in its skin, the players having nowhere near the firepower they did in real life. As they almost always did, they won despite the difficulty, as there was a clear path to victory; if you did this, that, and the other thing, you could win despite the overwhelming odds. Reality was never so clear-cut.