Fenton mentally readied himself to kill Hitler. He brainstormed the pre-mortem one-liners at his disposal: “Bet you did Nazi this coming!” No, that was terrible. Perhaps something simpler and without the stupid puns: “Should have stayed in art school.” Or maybe some pop culture reference like— “Fenton! I need your help over here with this flux capacitor!” Monokeras yelled, in French. Fenton made a note to revisit this topic before finishing the time machine. “I’m coming!” he responded, frenchly. Fenton lit what was probably his ninth cigarette of the day and stumbled through the littered interior of their makeshift “laboratory” that had once been Mono’s apartment. Countless tangled cords, screws, scraps of sheet metal, and of course Mono’s children obstructed Fenton’s path. “Mr. Fenton, when am I going to get my room back? It’s been like a year and a half now,” Mono’s daughter asked in her native tongue which of course was French. “Soon.” Fenton shot a winning grin, exhaling a thick puff of smoke into room. Mono’s daughter coughed. “Mr. Fenton, can you make me a sandwich? Dad said he was busy.” Mono’s son tugged on his ankle. Fenton rolled his eyes and trudged to kitchen to retrieve some bread and meat from the pantry. “Fenton, where are you?!” Mono’s voice boomed from his daughter’s room. “I’d really like your help operating this highly unstable nuclear fission reactor that could, you know, possibly break and leak radiation everywhere. I mean if you’re not too busy that is. I know I can be a bother, but I would really appreciate your help here.” The urgency of Mono’s words was only exceeded by how French they were. There was a pause. “I’m sorry, Fenton, I don’t mean to be too demanding. I’m sure whatever you’re doing is important too. Feel free to help me whenever.” Another pause. Then, in a much softer voice, “Although, I hope it’s soon.” Fenton lit another cigarette and sighed, again exhaling a large cloud of smoke into the room. Mono’s kids coughed. Who would have guessed such a neurotic guy made such an amazing engineer? Fenton still couldn’t believe it. He also couldn’t believe he was cutting the crusts off a sandwich while there was a very real potential of radiation leaking into the room and killing everyone. Fenton finished up the sandwich and ran to Mono. Mono precariously held the flux capacitor over his head, trying to jiggle it into place between the narrow arches that would hopefully project an oval-shaped time portal. “Fenton, what have I told you about smoking?” Mono spoke in his scolding French father voice he usually reserved for his kids. Fenton ignored this line of inquiry as he had for the last year and half, simply deciding to help Mono adjust the flux capacitor into place. An audible buzz could be heard as the machine slowly whirred to life. The twin arches of the time gate generated a shimmering, phosphorescent, and slightly transparent pink aura. “We’ve done it Mono!” “Yes, but did you have to make the design so, uh—“ Mono hesitated to complete his French thought. "What?” “Vaginal?” “IT WAS FOR EFFICIENCY PURPOSES!” Fenton said, frenchingly flustered. “Just set the time to 1937 and the place to Germany so we can get this over with.” “Can do.” Mono went behind the machine to adjust the input settings. The moment Mono stepped out of view, another pink time portal came into existence directly next to the original. “You know, I always feel very uncomfortable going through this thing, Fenton. It just seems so Freudian, you know?” It was Mono’s voice. But something was very very wrong. He was speaking [i]English without an accent[/i]. “Mono?” Fenton squeaked out. He could see another figure faintly moving through the pink aether. “Yes?” Two Monos said in stereo French and English. Fenton didn’t even see the gun. A bullet blew off the top of his scalp, sending a debris of skull bits, blood, and brain tissue onto the floor. Fenton and Mono stepped out from the portal. “Well that’s one down.” Fenton noted, in perfect English. “Wait! Don’t shoot, I have a family!” Mono stepped out from behind the machine. “I know,” Mono retorted, before firing an unnecessary number of rounds into the other Mono. “There can be only one!" Fenton playfully jabbed an elbow into Mono. "[i]Highlander[/i]. Pretty good, eh?” “That was terrible, Fenton,” Mono replied. “[i]That[/i] is why we can't kill Hitler. Maybe you'll get the right one-liner this time.”