The assassin drops to the floor and strikes swiftly. Any weapon would be detected coming into the hospital, so he pulls the pillow out from under the target’s head and slams it onto his face as he awakens. The old man flails, but after a minute… uh…

…he keeps flailing.

And flailing…?

(Alarms.)

Die! Why won’t you…

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John wakes from another nightmare. Worse this time, though, not for the dream but for the waking: Bolting upright to find himself in hospital gown, on something like an autopsy table, dimly lit, in an infinite space... filled with sleeping people in gowns on tables ( Read more... )

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“Disaster!” the imp shouted. “The end of the world ( Read more... )

They lounge on the Vaticanus Mons under a sky full of stars ( Read more... )