Suddenly, a bomb dropped from above.
"HOLY SH-" Matthew-Kaine was blown up into pieces before he could finish. Iamthey snapped his fingers and disappeared before the bomb hit the ground.

Meanwhile, four of Dogbert's biggest enemies - Cyclone868, FlameStarter, SWAT Sniper, and ODST-SGT ambushed him in his private office.
"You are under arrest, Dogbert. We have come to end your pathetic life", FlameStarter said as he and the other three pulled swords out of their pockets.
Dogbert yelled "Wtf?"
"Don't try to resist."
"Resist? How can I possibly resist?" Still seated at his desk, Dogbert shook an empty fist helplessly, the perfect image of a tired, frightened man. "This is murder, you flaming traitors! How can I be any threat to you?"
He turned desperatley to Cyclone868. "Cyclone, you're the telepath. What am I thinking right now?"
Cyclone frowned and cocked his head. His blade dipped. "What are you talking about? I'm no telepath!" Suddenly, a smear of shining metal hurtled at lightning speed from behind the desk.
Cyclone's head bounced when it hit the floor.
ODST-SGT gasped, "Cyclone!"
The headless corpse, still standing, twisted as its knees buckled, and a thin sigh escaped from the trachea as it folded to the floor.
Dogbert jumped over the desk and proceeded to attack the remaining three.
"It doesn't..." SWAT Sniper swayed.
His blade clattered to the floor. A small, neat slit in the middle of his forehead showed light from the back of his head.
"...hurt..."
He pitched forward onto his face, and lay still.
Dogbert stood at the doorway.
"Help! Help!" Dogbert cried like a man in desperate fear for his life. "Security - someone! Help me! Murder! Treason!
Then he smiled.
He held one finger to his lips, and, astonishingly, he winked.
In the blank second that followed, while FlameStarter and ODST-SGT could do no more than angle their blades to guard, Dogbert swiftly stepped over the bodies toward his desk, reversed his blade, and drove it in a swift, surgically precise stab down through his desktop.
"That's enough of that."
Then he turned, lifting his weapon, appearing to study it as one might study the face of a beloved friend one has long thought dead.
"If only you knew," he said softly, perhaps speaking to the flamers, or perhaps to himself, or perhaps to the bloodstained blade lifted now in mocking salute, "how long I have been waiting for this..."