Saxton Hale looked extremely pleased with himself as he finished his steak. Mr. Bidwell, his considerably scrawnier assistant, had been waiting patiently with fingers laced on the table in front of him on top of a variety of papers. He was sure Mr. Hale took an enormous amount of satisfaction from killing a yeti with his bare hands and eating it the same night, but the meat itself was probably tough and somewhat disgusting. Still, there was no denying his boss the gratification, however bizarre.

"Bidwell, that is a good steak." Hale crossed his massive arms and regarded the scattered documents as if seeing them for the first time. "Now, we talk robots. Give me a status report."

"Seven of your major outlets in the U.S. are completely overrun by Gray Mann's robots. The two in Europe are gone, and the two in the union are not only lost, but, uh, bombed."

"Bless those Russians and their trigger-happy nukelords." Saxton said. "How about that one off the coast of Puerto Rico? You know, the place where they always give you the umbrellas in your drinks?"

Bidwell said, "That one is currently burning to the ground, sir."

He swore. "I liked those."

"Sir, the mercenaries have been called to fend off the horde in Viaduct and Coaltown. Understandably, they are requesting more weapons, ammo, and upgrades. I suggest we concentrate on holding these two locations until we have more control of the situation."

"How are the boys liking those robots? Hahah! This ain't your grandmother's crossword puzzle anymore! Hahaha!"

"As for the rest of the staff, Reddy has informed me that the, the… ah…" Bidwell picked one of the reports from the table. "The pages are understaffed, the maids are underequipped, Pauling is overworked, and the administrator has taken up alcoholism." He read.

Saxton rubbed his jaw. His mustache still had traces of dried yeti blood in it. "This means we're going to have to ship in those Australium reserves, doesn't it?"

"Yes."

Sighing, he put his hands up in defeat. "Alright. Fine. Boot up whatever production lines we have up there, with a 15% increase in R&D."

"Mr. Hale, I don't-"

"Okay! 25%! 30%! Crikey, Bidwell! You going to shed tears now?! Is that better?"

"Yes, sir, thank you. I'll tell Reddy."

"Get Helen on the phone for me. And one of those little umbrellas."