Waking up from the best night’s sleep he’s had in years, our villain stretches his arms and yawns to ZERO, “Status report.”
“What is this? Star Trek?” the supercomputer asks sarcastically. When Mortimer scowls in response, ZERO continues. “The police have given up the assault for the moment, but they’ve a established a perimeter both inside and outside the range of the sentinel turrets.”
“How can they be within range without being fired upon?”
“You programmed your turrets not to fire upon the dead, Dr. Hex, to preserve ammunition,” explains ZERO. “It is a perimeter of corpses.”
“Excellent!” Our villain had fallen asleep in his black leather outfit, so he changes quickly into a green bathrobe before running to the polhelicopter pad once again to view his handiwork.
A near-perfect circle of dead policemen surrounds his estate. Further off, a living, if bedraggled circle of policemen stands guard. He takes his phone out of his bathrobe pocket and snaps a photo for the memories. This whole venture has become his favorite since he invented HIV.
One of the police begins yelling something through a megaphone, but Mortimer ignores the sound, concentrating and relishing on the carnage instead. One brave soul had made it as far as the spiked pits.
“It seems a bit too much, don’t you think?” remarks ZERO.
“Of course not!” replies Mortimer. “I placed signs all over the property warning people not to trespass.”