I told him to mmmphhh mmmmmmphh himself. I hadn't really counted on being able to save my finger anyway, but still, you never want to see your pinky get flushed by a madman.

"Let's hope it doesn't grow in the sewers like one of those alligators," said Troll. "It could come back for revenge."

"Indeed it could. We'll all just have to be careful."

Troll winked at me, and then ran his hand through Samantha's hair. He looked at Roger. "How did a babe like this ever end up with a dork like you?"

Roger's response was muffled but easy to translate and quite vulgar.

"Y'know," said Troll, still stroking her hair. "I wouldn't mind having some fun with this one myself."

Mr. Burke shook his head. "I want her alive when it's her turn on the table."

"I won't kill her."

"I've heard that before."

"No, really, I won't."

"I don't want any parts of her cut off, either."

"I won't."

Mr. Burke nodded. "All right. But if you betray my trust, the consequences will be severe."

"Am I allowed to break anything?"

Mr. Burke considered that. "Nothing vital. And do it in the other room. I don't want you distracting me."

"Ooooh, privacy. Even better. How about I drag her boyfriend in there with us to watch the show?"

"I think you're beginning to violate basic human decency, Troll," said Mr. Burke. "He needs to see what happens in here. Don't get greedy with your sadism."

Troll chuckled and walked behind Samantha's chair. As she screamed through her gag, he tilted her chair backward, and dragged her across the floor in front of Roger and I, the chair making a horrible screeching sound as it scraped across the tile. Roger struggled violently but fruitlessly, shouting muffled curses the entire time.

Troll reached the door, opened it, and dragged Samantha into a dark room. When she was out of sight, he stepped back into the doorway and waved to us. "Have fun, everybody! I know I will."

Roger screamed in incoherent rage.

"What's that you're trying to say?" asked Troll. "She likes it rough? Thanks for the tip, buddy."

He closed the door.

"Don't let yourself be excessively stressed over this," Mr. Burke told Roger. "She'll still be at least seventy percent okay when he's done with her."

Roger gave him an absolutely chilling look.

Mr. Burke clapped his hands together. "So, let's get started, shall we? Goblin, are you prepared to pay the ultimate price for your failure?"

Goblin lifted his head. "Sir, please, I know I screwed up, but you have to give me another chance!"

"Oh, I have to, do I? Did you suddenly become the one in charge? Did I miss Promotion Day?"

"That's not what I meant, I just-"

"Then say what you mean, Goblin. Don't pretend I have any obligations to you or to anybody else."

"But I-"

"Stop speaking. Witch, gag him. No, on second thought, cut out his tongue. Use something inefficient to do it."

I didn't watch. But I had no way to cover my ears.

"Oh, now, that's cheating," said Mr. Burke, a couple of minutes later. He tapped me in the face with something sharp. "Open them."

I opened my eyes. He was holding a scalpel.

"Please keep your eyes open," he said, tapping the scalpel on each side of my nose. "You're being extremely rude, and I'd hate to have to slice off your eyelids."

I kept my eyes open as Mr. Burke and Witch lifted Goblin onto the operating table and restrained him with a series of ten leather straps. He was making a hell of a lot more noise than when he'd been pleading for his life, but it was a much less coherent noise.

It was almost loud enough to block out the sound of Samantha screaming in the next room.

"Let's see, what's the best makeover for such a loyal employee?" Mr. Burke wondered aloud. "Oh, I know where to start. Witch, get me a left and right from locker 14."

Witch nodded sadly and went to one of the lockers. She opened the door, revealing several sets of steel claws hanging inside. There was no palm to them, just five curved, pencil-sized blades welded together with a spike at the bottom. She took down a pair and placed them on the table.

"Ah, perfect," said Mr. Burke, putting on a pair of safety goggles. He picked up a handheld device with a circular blade. "Don't worry, Goblin. In just a moment you're going to look extremely cool."

He turned on the device. The motor hummed and the blade began to spin. Flesh, muscle, and bone separated with ease.

"We've got a bleeder," Mr. Burke announced, speaking loudly to be heard over the shrieks.

I was terrified I was going to vomit under my gag and choke to death.

Mr. Burke replaced Goblin's hands with the claws, using the spikes to fix them in place.

I thought he might try to flush Goblin's original hands down the toilet, but Witch deposited them into a convenient waste receptacle.

I looked at Roger. He watched the door with Troll and Samantha behind it.

"Locker 27," Mr. Burke announced. "Let's give this gentleman a bionic eye."

"What color light?" Witch asked.

"How about… green?" Mr. Burke looked at me as if for my approval. Not knowing what else to do, I nodded. "Yes, green."

"Dark green or light green?"

"Dark green."

"Flashing?"

"Oh yes."

Witch opened another locker and removed a small metal circular object. She handed it to Mr. Burke, who flipped a switch on the side and held up the dark green flashing light for my approval. "Nice, isn't it?"

This time I didn't nod.

"Normally, I'd remove the organic eye first," Mr. Burke explained. "But I think we'll skip that step and just wedge this one in as best we can."

Mr. Burke did so, though it took some effort. Goblin's screams and thrashing faded halfway through the process.

"Ah, yes, that looks great. I don't think you two can see it from where you're sitting, but trust me, that is a cyborg eye to die for. Now for the feet. Locker 2."

Mr. Burke went to work on Goblin's feet. This process wasn't as easy as removing his hands, but it was completed in a quick and efficient manner.

Goblin's feet were replaced by wheels. He couldn't appreciate it, because by then he was dead.

Mr. Burke and Witch added some more enhancements. A row of copper spikes running down the sides of each leg. Bolts protruding from his neck, Frankenstein-style. The words "Cyber-Goblin 3000" burnt onto his chest.

"Excellent!" said Mr. Burke, wiping his hands off on a white towel. "Perhaps not one of my masterpieces, but a more than worthy addition to my collection."

Mr. Burke and Witch lifted Goblin's corpse onto a gurney. "Hose him off and prepare him for display," said Mr. Burke. Witch nodded and wheeled him past Roger and I and out the door behind us.

"See, I'm really not such a terrible individual," Mr. Burke told us. "It's not like I'm merely hacking up your bodies, mangling them for sport. When you were a child, wouldn't you have loved to look like the Cyber-Goblin 3000?"

He wiped off his face and neck, and then realized something. "Oh, I got so caught up in my work that I forgot to check in with Medusa. That's why it's so wonderful to be the boss: I'm allowed to screw up."

He picked up the walkie-talkie from the equipment table and pressed the button. "Medusa, come in."

He waited.

"Medusa?"

He set down the walkie-talkie and shrugged. "That's a promising sign. If she's shut off communications, your wife must be falling for her ruse. You know, Andrew, just between you and me, I could arrange to have her mouth replaced with a vacuum cleaner, if you know what I mean." He gave an exaggerated wink.

Not being able to slam his face into one of Goblin's metal claws was an unbearably frustrating sensation.

"I enjoy making my precious cyborgs, but right now we're just in the design phase. They look spectacular, but they don't do anything because they're dead. But I've been wanting to test a special little something and this is the absolute perfect opportunity." He smiled. "I think you'll find it very, very interesting."