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(Excerpt from "Psychics and Swords: The Amazing and Totally Plausible Adventures of Steve Walton")

I pulled my car into a parking spot and popped the door open. As I unbuckled the seatbelt, I noticed a familiar shape visible in the rearview mirror. I stepped from the car and turned around.

"Cram? How did you get here so fast?"

The three at the barn had been left without transportation when I had driven away, and it didn't seem possible for Cram to have kept pace with an automobile.

Cram smiled. "Oh, I do hope my sudden appearance does not bother you, Steve old buddy old chum, but I thought perhaps we might sup together."

"You... what?" Something obviously wasn't right here. Cram had never talked like that before. "Uh... you buying?"

Cram's smile widened. "Why, absolutely, my dear old friend! I wouldn't have it any other way!"

That was definitely not something Cram would say. I also noticed his clothes were different and his beard had vanished. Then it hit me: the remote clone! I gestured to the building. "After you, my friend."

"Always a gentleman," the Cram clone said.

When he turned his back, I delivered a swift, powerful kick. Not a nice tactic, I admit, but this was just a mindless remote control shell. The clone fell to its knees with a grunt.

"Guess this body isn't as strong as your real one, eh Kyle?" I said.

"No, but what can I do?"

I answered the rhetorical question with another kick, this one to the back of the head. I figured now was a good time to work out some of that excessive rage I'd been feeling all day. I thought about Cram and me both being used by the sadistic cloners, and I thought of that Kyle monster running around, using my body, my dashing good looks, and my reputation all for himself. I grabbed the clone, spun him, and hurled him into the wall with the might that can only be granted by such intense rage. He collided against the wall and I set upon him again.

With a horrifying abruptness, all the anger left me.

My fist slowed mid-swing and tapped the remote clone with an unwanted gentleness.

"What the hell?" I said.

"Is that all you got, old boy?" The clone gave an easy, almost feminine laugh. "Why, I do believe I'll have some fun with you after all."

I was suddenly overwhelmed with tremendous sadness. I stumbled back, trying to hold on to an unexpected rush of tears. As depression engulfed me, I began questioning myself. What was I doing? What was I hoping to accomplish with all this fighting? Why was I always too stupid to come up

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