Incandescent lights turned on one after another, and the metal-paneled walls reflected a cold glow. Shadows cast across the walls slipped by like swimming fish. The figure stopped in front of the door. When he pushed it open and went inside, there were already several people in the conference room.
"Welcome, welcome." The figure standing in front of the conference table wore a white coat. "Welcome to our final friend."
"Him?" A figure in white power armor had both feet propped on the table, fingers interlaced in front of him as he looked the newcomer up and down. "A younger version of you, Schiller. Really?"
"Why not?" he asked in return. "Besides, I'm not counting on him for any good ideas. As long as he can do the work."
"Now that is interesting." A green-haired figure blew his nose, then began coughing loudly and hard. "I hate the smell of gunfire on him. What else? Marine Corps?"
"Don't say that, you goddamn bastard. The last half hour was nothing but your nonsense, and you didn't offer a single useful suggestion. If you ask me, you're the one who shouldn't be here." A figure wearing a burlap Scarecrow mask sat at the table and spoke.
"I truly don't understand you lunatics. Even in my worst-performing century, I wouldn't waste this much time on a problem like this. Come on, even devils are on a schedule!" A red-skinned, horned figure spread his hands.
"Ahem." The figure who had just come in cleared his throat. He looked at the man in front of the conference table who looked exactly like him. "I'd also very much like to know why you called me here. Why would you think I'd take part in some multiverse Evil Alliance? Greed?"
"There is no such alliance." Greed dug