You drive on in silence but your sharp mind is racing. This is quite a dilemma that Satan has you facing. On the one hand, your life just got totally sweet, and your body is hot and you're packing some meat. And the women are waiting and the mansion is looming... All of this together can be quite consuming.
And yet, it all comes at a rather high price. Kill a guy?!
Surely a note would suffice. Like:
"Dear Mr. Howell, I'm sorry to inform you, but here are some rules that you must now conform to: No living in this mansion, no going out at night, no signing our name, no seeing the light..."
It sounds inconvenient, but he'd HAVE to agree; it's more pleasant than what the alternative would be...
But if he refused, then what would you do? Kill an innocent man just because you were told to? But he's strong and fit too! You gasp in a breath. What if he'd rather just fight to the death? How would you best him? Well, if you had a gun... and somewhere in the mansion there's bound to be one.
And it wouldn't be murder, if he were fighting you too... and you'd never get caught, because you're not even you. You're him now, and no one would notice a thing-- just dispose of the body and your life's in full swing!
You turn into the driveway as you formulate a plan; you refuse to be forced to kill an innocent man.
You march up your steps and push open your doors, and feast your new eyes upon all that is yours. The floor shines; the ceiling's a skylighted dome... Your mansion's damn sexy and it smells like home.
You set off in search of the room with your arsenal, when the doors bang open, and now it gets personal. In steps, not C.T. Howell, but instead... a guy with YOUR old face, body, and head!