Oct. 24th, 2011

"Why?" I ask simply.

"I think you have the wrong idea," says Burr. "I'm not going to blow up the Basilica of Saint Peter. The Chiefs are."

"No they aren't," I say obstinately. "They don’t have anything to blow it up with."

"That's good to know," says Burr. Oh, well done, moron.

"No," Burr continues, "I guess technically they're not actually going to do the blowing up, but they'll take the credit for it. That's why I've lured them here, chasing after old Formosus again. No insult intended, Your Grace."

"None taken," Formosus replies mildly.

"We have a little selective demolition to do here," continues Burr, "and it struck me we could kill two birds with one stone. By luring in the Chiefs to their doom and giving them the rap for destroying the Vatican, I can have my cake, and they can eat me too." Burr looks very satisfied with himself.

"Oh, for the love of Pete," snarls Nixon. He's still sprawled on the floor, having recovered the use of his mouth well ahead of any other motor control. "If there's one thing I can't stand, it's a bad guy who keeps his victims alive so he can tell them his dumb-ass plan."

"I entirely agree," says Burr. He draws his pistol, cocks it, and blows off the top of Nixon's head.

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