“It’s a good thing that we live in a fantasy world,” said Hieronymus, “so that when I clone myself, he’ll be fully grown and have my memories.” He looked over the instructions again. “Hmmm…,” he pondered aloud, “this states that it has a similar effect to the spell ice assassin, but that’s not a core spell and I’m not familiar with it. Oh well, what’s the worst that could happen?” With that announcement, he got to work.
He stared at what appeared to be a mirror image. “Well,” he commented, “it appears that my recent modifications have been duplicated in you.” The clone arose from the table and stood up. “An excellent specimen.” announced Hieronymus. The clone picked up one of the flasks lying around in the lab and appeared to be examining it. “Do you like it?” asked Hieronymus. There was a crash, then pain and darkness.
When Hieronymus awoke, he was strapped to the table. His head felt wet from the blood and he was still rather woozy. He blinked away the blurriness in his eyes. He was standing over himself. No wait! That bastard of a clone had stolen his clothes and restrained him! He snarled as he stared down at his now naked body. “I was wondering when you’d get up.” said the clone, “I’ve given Giro some time off so don’t bother calling for help. I just wanted to let you know that tonight, I’m going to be the one who goes home and enjoys your wife.” He gave a large, unpleasant grin.
“When I get out of this…” began Hieronymus.
“I don’t think that that’s likely.” said the clone, “You see, we have more ranks in use rope than escape artist.” He let out a loud laugh and turned around.
“I’ll kill you, you bastard!” screamed Hieronymus as his clone walked out the door.