“Lincoln.” Rasputin spat the word through cracked and blackened lips. The Mad Monk’s unblinking eyes were fixed on Lincoln’s goggles as if he could see through them into the great President’s mind.

Lincoln reached for a button hidden within the intricate handle of his polearm, which would activate the secret Amendment Zero: The Right of the President to Most Righteously Chop Anyone’s Head Right Off. “Perhaps when I kill you here, your stain will finally be gone from the universe, like Adolf Stalin Tse Tung before you.”

“Who?” asked Rasputin.

Lincoln smiled. “Exactly.”

“Wait,” said Rasputin, raising his hands. His sleeves fell back from his arms, showing burns all along his skin. Lincoln cocked a heavy black eyebrow. Rasputin tried to say something, then stopped himself. He ground his teeth with the effort. Finally, he hissed through clenched teeth, “If we are to escape from this place, we must… work… together.”