Paul the Scientist gulped so loud I could hear it five feet away.

“Doc,” he said, trembling, “can I have your autograph?”

“You got it, Paul.” I laughed and punched him in the face, breaking his nose with a sickening snap, his blood spurting everywhere.

I used his blood to sign my name on the wall and then I walked out.

The lab exit door opened, and I couldn’t believe my eyes.

This top secret lab was right in the middle of Stanford’s campus! I should’ve known—goddamn entitled college kids. Nice campus, though. Lots of trees.

And walking right out from behind a couple of those trees were my old friends Larry and Sergey.

“Hey, fellas,” I said as I pulled out my second ankle blade—seriously, why does no one ever check for those?

They froze.

“Oh shit,” Sergey said. “I knew we shouldn’t have let Paul handle such a big project.”

The light of the afternoon sun flashed across my blade. “Sorry, boys,” I said. “But I’m done fucking around.” I took a step toward them, blood in my eyes and violence in my heart. Surprising literally no one, Larry pissed himself again.

“You really gotta see someone about that, Lare,” I said.

“Please, Doc,” Sergey said. “Please don’t hurt us. We just wanted to bless the gaming world with a superior controller, that’s all!”

“We had no intention of being evil!” Larry said. “We swear!”

I sighed and lowered my weapon. They were lucky that I wasn’t in a killing mood. This time.

“Here’s what really pisses me off, guys,” I said. “You didn’t even have to drug me with a poisonous pen and lock me up in your lab to steal the secrets of my superhuman speed and reflexes. You could’ve just asked! I mean, it’s kind of flattering, when you think about it. I woulda said yes just for the fun of it, you know?”

“Well,” Sergey said, “we were thinking of just asking. But then you kept being like, ‘Oh, you’re here to steal my blah blah blah, right?’ So we were like, ‘Huh, stealing—sounds like a good idea blah blah.’ ”

“And let’s be honest,” Larry said. “Taking people’s data in a sneaky underhanded way is a lot more fun than just, like, asking for it openly and transparently—even if they would give it to you willingly in order to improve service.”

“And,” Sergey said, “you did sign away the rights to your physiological essence. Even if it was buried in the middle of a long and complicated contract.”

“That’s fair,” I said. “You got me on that one.”

“But look,” Sergey said. “No hard feelings, all right? As our apology, we’ll give you a full twenty percent off the controller we’ll base on your own personal biometrics. And a .015 percent ownership stake in Oogle.”