Bob smiles mockingly, as the extra arms disappear. "Then by all means. Shoot." As Bob speaks, he starts to split, seeming to multiply, until there's a slowly rotating ring of Bobs around Sparda, each one with the same mocking grin. These then once more duplicate, forming a complete globe of clones which slowly twists and turns. To make matters worse, the Bob's seems to be melding in and out of one another, transforming and warping as differnent parts of the Globe move in different directions, making it hard to tell what is up and what is down. "Which is the real one? Well?"