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of their crimes.
    “Who are they?” thought Seb.
    “Most are financiers, but the main player is a programmer, MIT graduate. Tyler Gray. He doesn’t even need to meet his partners, it’s all done online. He’s behind all of it. He finds the muscle. Doesn’t seem to care about the people who die while he pursues his riches. Remove him and there’s no more syndicate. He’s based in LA.”
    “Show me,” thought Seb. Suddenly, he wasn’t just looking at the kitchen, his view was overlaid with an image of a room full of computer hardware and a bank of monitors. A young man sat in front of them in a big leather chair. He was wearing boxer shorts and eating cereal, while shouting into a headset.  
    “How? How is that possible? It took weeks to set up that diversion. Jesus!” He took some deep breaths, scratched his balls and spoke again. “Ok, give me until the weekend and I’ll set up a new target. Find me a team who actually know what the fuck they’re doing this time, ok?”
    He took off the headset and tossed it onto the desk. Two of the four huge screens showed real-time stock market information. The other two were full of code that made no sense to Seb.  
    “He was hard to find,” said Seb2. “He’d set up dozens of dead ends, blind alleys. He thinks there’s no way anyone could ever track the crimes back to him.”
    “How hard to find?” thought Seb.
    “3.43 seconds,” said Seb2.
    “Stop showing off,” thought Seb, “and show me another room. I’ll Walk there.” A few other rooms appeared in Seb’s vision, including the master bedroom, which led out to a balcony and an ocean view. The walls were lined with books.
    “Wasn’t showing off,” said Seb2. “He’s a prodigy. I would have had him in under a second otherwise.”
    Seb Walked.  
    The balcony doors were open and the sound of the waves was the only noise apart from the rhythmic tapping of computer keys from the next room. Seb walked across to the nearest bookcase. Stephen King, HP Lovecraft, Edgar Allen Poe, HR James, Peter Strauss, Clive Barker.
    “Tyler likes his horror literature,” thought Seb.
    “Yep,” said Seb2. “Oh. Ok, that’s funny. I get it. Great idea. Just don’t spoil it by laughing.”
    “I’ll do my best,” thought Seb. He closed his eyes briefly and felt the by-now familiar rippling of his skin and muscle as he changed, his body morphing into a new shape. He stepped across to the foot of the bed to look in the full length mirror. He still had to duck to see himself fully, as he was now seven feet tall.  
    “Shit!” he said quietly as he saw what he’d become. He was the perfect, nightmarish circus clown. His face was white and smeared, as if the makeup had been hurriedly applied. The wig was supposed to be green, but was matted with blood and hung limply on his shoulders. The areas of skin visible beneath the white were crusty, dark red, pustulant. His eyes were yellow and bloodshot, his nose obscured by a red sphere that, on closer inspection, looked like some bloated throbbing blood vessel. His mouth was just a little bigger than seemed humanly possible, and his smile revealed blackened teeth filed into vicious points, the tongue a mass of old wounds and newly made gouges, where the teeth were constantly ripping the flesh. Blood seeped from the corners of his mouth.
    “Sure this won’t scare him to death?”
    “He’s young and healthy,” said Seb2. “Look on the bright side. He’ll definitely spend less time indoors after this, so his health will actually improve.”
    “Hmm,” thought Seb and walked out of the bedroom. The door to the room he wanted was closed, so he knocked slowly, three times, for dramatic effect.
    Behind the door, Tyler froze for half a second, then threw himself off of the chair, opened a drawer, removed a handgun and checked it, while backing slowly into a corner. Seb still had an overlay of the room open, and he watched the young man sweat as he clicked the safety