"The Will To Die"
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dochermes"The Will To Die"
(7/9/1972) [original title "Die With Open Eyes"]
12/10/1981
I.
A cold, drizzly December morning in New York City, dark as twilight. A petite blonde woman and a tall black man walked slowly, talking, going nowhere in particular. She wore a white raincoat and had her hair pulled up into a ponytail that reached her collar. He was wearing a dark brown suit with a tan dress shirt, but no tie, his collar pulled up.
"What's taking so long to set up your clinic, anyway?" Cindy asked after a minute of silence between them. "Red tape?"
Ted Wright let out a breath. There was grey in his short hair and beard, and he had a heavy, sad face. "More than I ever thought possible. I closed my practice two years ago, but I am still on call at the Jefferson Memorial when their ER is swamped. I thought I would get approval for my clinic right away."
The blonde telepath bumped up against him in a friendly way. "Too bad you can't tell the medical board about what you've learned at Tel Shai. Your Blue Guide powers would be a big help in any hospital."
"Never happen," he grumbled. "They'd think I was insane, or worse, a fraud. My skills are mostly in diagnoses and helping people heal, and I couldn't explain how I did it. I'd be up on charges in a blink."
Cindy slipped her arm around his waist, sticking her thumb in a loop of his belt. "Well, WE appreciate you. Once you get your clinic set up next door, you can help people without insurance know what's wrong with them, and we'll still have you on hand for our wild and crazy adventures.'
He patted her on the back. "Thanks. You know, I was at Tel Shai for two years before you and Jeremy and the others showed up. I really was not clear on what I was going to do with my skills... Cin?"
She had stopped right in midstep. They were near the George Washington Bridge, close enough to see the cars crawling along its three thousand feet of concrete and metal. Her mind, the priceless telepathic mind that made the KDF a viable team instead of a disorganized group with nothing in common, had suddenly reached out in anxiety. She had picked up on something. The Will To Die!
Then she saw him, a tiny figure climbing up on one of the swaying cables which supported the bridge, and she knew with a dread certainty that he was going to jump. Even worse, her mind picked up that he was being made to do so. "Ted! That man up there!" she cried, pointing.
Wright had snapped into instant alertness, following her line of sight. He sprinted forward, trying to get as close as he could. Behind him, Cindy had snapped the Link from her belt and said into it, "Jeremy. Get the corby to the George Washington Bridge! Hurry!"
The man now standing high on a pylon was wearing a white shirt and dark pants, all that could be made out at this distance. As Wright came running to the shore of the Hudson, the faroff figure swayed and spun end-over-end as it plummeted down through the air. "No!' shouted Wright and he held up his open hand. There was nothing obviously unusual about that long-fingered, dark-skinned hand but it was the focal point which Thaddeus James Wright used to visualize his power. Now a faint, barely visible shimmer of pale blue light came into existence around that hand- exactly like the aura of flickering blue energy which sprang up around the falling man.
Wright stood with feet well apart, jaw clenched, all his will and concentration pouring into the gralic energy that surged invisibly from him to the falling man, whose descent slowed down as if something was supporting him. Gravity contended with the transcendental power of gralir. Slower and slower, the man floated down to the brown water. He hit with only a small splash and no impact. Standing on the barrier holding back the river, the Blue Guide swayed and kept focussed. Something was fighting him. Some unseen occult force was at work, making the manifestation of his powers much more difficult than was normal.
From midtown, far more quickly than normal aerodynamics would explain, a black helicopter hurtled overhead. The Corby's passage was almost silent and could not heard over normal traffic noises. The craft curved around tightly, diving down close to the river surface. Leonard Slade was at the controls, swinging the copter around in a manner that would have made a true Human pilot black out. Within seconds, he was just a few feet above the surface over the man. Oddly, the rotor blades spun but did not seem to generate much wash, only a little spray rose from the river. An observer might wonder if the Corby was really being lifted by the blades.
The blue glow of Wright's manifestation was visible from beneath the surface, where the man had sunk. Slade slid the hatch open and dove smoothly into the water. No one was close enough to see that the helicopter was hovering stable without anyone at the controls. A few seconds passed, then he broke the surface with the man under one arm. Again, there were no observors closer than the drivers in the traffic on the bridge and they could not tell how he got back up into the hovering copter. If someone had been nearer, it would be seen that he rose up out of the water as if pulled on a non-existent cable. Leonard Slade wore a black jumpsuit with numerous pockets and devices attached. He had short black hair and calm dark eyes, The handsome, olive-skinned face showed no emotion as he drew his own Link to speak to Cindy watching from the shore.
"This man is dead," announced the Trom. "He deliberately drowned himself."
II.
Standing on the roof of the ten-story headquarters building, Jeremy Bane clicked his Link back into its setting in his belt buckle. He had just gotten the report. CPR had been administered on the drowning victim, with no results. Slade had turned the body over to paramedics and was on his way back; Cindy and Ted would walk, they were a few minutes away. The Dire Wolf saw the Corby approaching and he went back down the narrow stairs to the hangar below. The silent helicopter descended neatly. He had to give Slade credit, he landed the craft with mathematical precision. As the rotor blades slowed to a halt, Bane threw the controls that made the wide roof panels slide shut again.
Leonard Slade climbed out of the cockpit and approached his captain. He was an inch or so taller than Bane, more powerfully built, but he seemed so detached and aloof that people were uncomfortable around him. The Trom looked Human, but he wasn't.
"Jeremy. I suggest we obtain a copy of the autopsy results. The man's actions were not normal for a suicide."
Bane folded his arms and confronted the Trom. "Len, I don't want the public to see us in action if we can help it. You flew up out of the river into the cockpit, didn't you?"
"Yes," Slade replied. "Under current viewing conditions and at the distance the cars on the bridge were, no one could have discerned my actions. The odds of anyone having a telescope or binoculars on hand and focusing them on me in those three seconds are negligible."
"All right. Just don't get careless. I want us to stay under the radar. No flying in public."
The Trom nodded his head a fraction of an inch. "I understand. Trom policy also stresses a low profile."
The Dire Wolf gestured at the Corby. "When do you think the second one will be ready?"
"Steven is working on it now. He thinks it will be available for our use in two weeks. I have found him optimistic in the past. I suggest you take into account that projects will take longer and cost more than he anticipates."
"You know, you Trom can be real diplomatic," Bane said. "Let's see if Cindy and Ted are back."
The Dire Wolf led his teammate down the stairs to the floor below, which held the temporary detention cell and general storage. It was as far as the elevator went, since the tenth floor had originally been the roof. They went down to ground level in silence. Bane was comfortable with Slade, they had developed trust in their adventures, but he certainly did not have the genuine friendship he shared with the other members. Slade was in the KDF as an arrangement worked out to everyone's benefit. He received Tel Shai training and knowledge, in exchange for providing Trom technology for KDF Use. It was a business deal, but there was nothing wrong with that as long as they all aware of the set-up. Slade accepted that Bane was leader of their team of Tel Shai knights and he took orders, but Bane often wondered if the Trom was doing it grudgingly.
They got out on the second floor, just as Wright and Cindy hurried up the stairs to join them. "That was quite a trot," she said. "We were just below a gallop."
Bane led them into the conference room, where they took their customary seats around the long table. The Dire Wolf put his hands on the table, palms down, and asked, "Let's get everyone's impressions why this was not a normal occurence."
"Me first," Cindy butted in. She had taken off her raincoat and was wearing a baggy navy blue sweatshirt and jeans. "I picked up something wrong with his mind. I wasn't even probing, it was so strong it caught my attention. He had the Will To Die imposed on him. Something was making him act that way. We were too far away for me to try to get control of his mind, but I don't know if I could have anyway." The little blonde slapped one hand on the table. "Something is very wrong about all this."
Bane said, "Ted?"
"I agree with Cin," answered the black man somberly. "My powers mostly involve lifeforce. I can do some levitation, and I should have been able to affect that man more effectively than I did. Also, I could sense his lifeforce going out. Yes, this was not a normal suicide." He paused and added, "as much as any suicide can be called normal."
Leonard Slade did not wait to be called upon. "Before the ambulance arrived, I used the sensors in my Link to conduct a scan of his system. I have a significant finding. In addition to amounts of caffeine and nicotine within average limits for a coffee and tobacco user, this man had a foreign substance in his bloodstream. I detected toxic levels of a potent narcotic depressive."
"Narcotic?" repeated Bane. "Like what?"
"Not a street drug. I can not identify it beyond giving its chemical formula, which would mean nothing to you."
"Oh great," Wright muttered. "A new dope. That's all this city needs."
"Len, could that drug be the cause of his behavior? What are its effects?"
Before Slade could answer, the phone on the wall near the door rang. Being closest, Cindy jumped for it. "Kenneth Dred Foundation. Hi, lieutenant. What? Where? Uh-huh. Okay, we're on our way." She hung up and pointed at Bane. "That was really for you. Lieutenant Flanigan says there's a guy on Mott Street wired up with dynamite. He's asking for you."
The Dire Wolf was out of his seat. "Me? Did he say who it is?"
"Nope. I think Flanigan just likes giving you a hard time. Shall we go?"
"Absolutely. Ted, I want you to go and get an autopsy report on the guy from the river. You're a doctor and you were on the scene. Len, I want you to do an analysis of the mystery drug, figure out its effects and whip up an antidote."
Slade replied, "I will start to 'whip up' an antidote at once," with just enough emphasis to suggest a sense of humor.
"Cin, we two are on the human bomb. Oh, and Ted- see if you can locate Khang. I have no idea where he wandered off to this time." As he spoke, Bane helped Cindy with her raincoat and led her quickly down the stairs. On the ground floor, just by the front door to 38th Street, they entered a stand-up closet and opened a panel which revealed concrete steps. Down a short corridor flanked by the arsenal and the vault, they entered the garage where two cars were kept.
"Let me drive, you ALWAYS drive," Cindy commanded as she snatched a set of keys from a hook on the wall. The blonde hopped behind the wheel of a dark red Chevy Malibu and started it up as Bane got in the passenger seat. Pulling out of there was tricky. The ramp had a sharp twist that wasn't easy to make but cindy squeaked through and got out onto Lexington Avenue. She was actually a good driver. Aside from her actual skill, her telepathic awareness gave her an advantage in knowing what other drivers were planning to do and she could frequently plow through red lights without trouble. They arrived at Mott Street in record time, Cindy did some neat parallel parking into the only open space and they got out.
One cruiser was double parked by the door to a Chinese restaurant, The Panda, but with its lights off. Standing near the car was a uniformed officer and a short beefy man in a dark brown suit. He shook a cigarette out and tossed it in the gutter as he saw Bane and Cindy hurry up.
"Hi, Lieutenant!" Cindy sang out cheerfully. "Getting to count on us?"
"You have your uses," Flanigan answered sourly. He always looked as if he had acid reflux. "That is, when something creepy and horrifying has happened. But this time, some one asked for you personally.. I mean you, Mr Dire Wolf."
Bane started toward the open door to The Panda but Cindy grabbed his arm."Oh my God. In there, it's the Will To Die again."
He looked down at the concern in her face and said, "We'll take it slow." They stepped up to the door and peered inside.
To the right was a counter with a cash register, to the left a rack for hanging coats. Standing in the middle of the restaurant, with tables kicked over on either side, was a middle-aged Chinese man in a loud short-sleeved shirt and baggy trousers. He had sticks of dynamite taped around his chest, with a wire going up to a plunger control in his hand, and he was sobbing loudly.
"Leung? Jim Leung?" asked Bane, taking a step further.
"Jeremy! Help me. Remember the old days in Black Mantis. We swore to help each other when in need." The man shook with his crying. "I- don't want to do this!"
Beside the Dire Wolf, Cindy whispered, "Hon, he's all screwed up in the mind. I don't know where to start with him."
Bane held up his open hands and stepped closer. "Jim, what's the problem? Things can't be that bad."
"I don't know, I don't know," the man screamed. "My family needs me. And yet, and yet I have the Will To Die!"
Now he was close enough to see that Leung held a plunger which had to be closed to detonate. It was not a deadman switch. Cindy whispered, "I can cloud his mind for a second, he'll get all dazed and slow." Bane told her, "Say when."
Jim Leung's eyes got glazed and he swayed backwards. Cindy said, "Go!"
In a split-second, Bane closed the gap and snatched the plunger out of Leung's grip, tugging it upward and grabbing the cord with his other hand to yank it apart. The cord snapped. As he did this, the man grabbed hold of him with both arms in a bear hug. They fell to the floor before Bane could wrestle loose and get up again. Leung was clawing at him, crying loudly. The Dire Wolf grabbed both of the man's arms and brought him up to his feet. "Jim! What the hell's wrong with you? Talk to me, man!" Leung would not calm down and Bane spun him around, pulling one of the man's arms up behind his back.
Cindy had gone to bring Lt Flanigan and the cop into the restaurant. "Well, good work, Bane. We'll take him off your hands."
As the officer handcuffed Leung's arms behind his back, Bane stepped back with distress visible on his face.
"I can't understand this," he told Flanigan. "Jim Leung was a level-headed guy. Listen. Can you get blood work done on him? I think maybe he was given a new drug I've heard rumors of."
"We can't do that without his permission," the lieutenant said, "but I'll talk him into it."
Bane turned to the blonde who was watching him with worried eyes. "Cin?"
"Are you okay yourself, Jeremy? Something's off."
"Me? Sure, I'm fine." But he was rubbing his palms together. They felt irritated, almost as if he had burned them somehow.
"Cin, I want you to go with Flanigan and see what you can read. They'll interrogate him but I think you can pick up what's going on in his mind."
"I suppose," she answered uncertainly. "What are you going to be doing?"
"I have a hunch I want to investigate. It'll probably turn out to be nothing. Report as soon as you get anything from Jim's mind. Something about this case worries me. Keep in touch," he said as he hurried out of the restaurant. Cindy reluctantly watched him leave.
III.
Moodily, Bane watched the traffic as he stood by the curb. There was hardly anyone out today. The wind and the cold rain were a combination no one wanted to deal with. Not that he had to worry about being hit by a car. With his reflexes geared up so high, drivers couldn't hit him if they were trying. At 28th Street, he crossed over at 5th and entered the lobby of the 40-story Brackett Building, getting in the elevator and punching the button for the 9th floor. It had been over a year since he had been dragged here by Harry Werner, and much had happened to him in that time but the elevator looked the same.
Getting out on the 9th floor, he still had seen no one. He stood in a hallway with a row of doors opening into different offices. Bane felt funny. He paused and went over to a window at the end of the hall, looking down at the rainy streets and he tried to gather his thoughts. It would be strange if he was getting sick, that was rare for him, but he was so uncomfortable. The hallways seemed overheated and oppressive. The Dire Wolf stood by the window for a few more minutes, remembering. In March of the previous year, he had come here to settle with a Nekrosan who had sent an assassin after him. The Nekrosim were a hermit Race who rarely left their realm, Perjena, to come to the cities of Men.
The Nekrosim had faces like skulls barely covered with skin, and their culture was as sick by Human standards as could be imagined, with Death worship and elaborate suicide rituals. Other Races had little to do with them. Only a handful of them had ever entered the real world, and each had brought trouble. Golgora had been such a one. He had come with a supply of the Darthan drug helldust, building a ring of addicts completely dependent upon him and willing to carry out any order he gave. Harry Werner had been sent to kill Bane and had failed. After Ted Wright temporarily cured the man of his addiction, Werner had brought Bane here to confront Golgora. That had ended in a brief struggle in which the Dire Wolf had killed the Nekrosan with an open hand blow where the neck joined the shoulder. After that, the addicts who could be located had gone to clinics but few had survived withdrawal. But... wait. What was he doing here?
Bane straightened up. He had been leaning his face against the coolness of the window without realizing it. Why did he feel so sluggish? Where was the restless energy that usually drove him? Standing, he breathed deeply to clear his head and turned around to look for the door he had entered a year ago. There it was, still with the nameplate that read TERMINUS CONSULTING. Strange that the suite had not been released to anyone else, but this was what he had wanted to find out. Maybe the Nekrosim kept this place as their outpost in the cities of Men. The door was unlocked. He opened it and stepped through into nightmare.
Sitting on a bench before a wide picture window was a thin man in an expensive, well-tailored suit. He had a scarf of yellow silk around his throat. In his hand was an ivory cigarette holder and he exhaled smoke from a corner of the wide lipless mouth. His totally bald head had a faint unhealthy sheen, deepset dark eyes watched out from under a heavy brow ledge. His nose was a stub with nostrils, his ears merely two holes on the sides of his head. The dry skin was stretched tautly over bone and his face looked like nothing so much as a living skull.
And Jeremy Bane, seeing this horror smirking at him, felt cold disbelief crawl up his spine. For the skull-faced man was Golgora.
IV.
At the police station on 20th Street, Cindy Brunner stepped into a niche in a hall that had a bench and sat down. She took out her Link and called Ted Wright. "Hi, this is Cin. Any results yet?"
"The doctors here are lost," came Wright's voice. "They found the drug that Len mentioned but it remains unidentified and now they tell me it shouldn't have any psychoactive effects. It should be an inert compound."
"That's weird," she said. "I'm at cop central. Lt Flanigan let me know there have been four other suicides this morning. All without prior behavior indicating mental illness, all completely unexpected. The guy from the PANDA restaurant has gone into an exhausted sleep and they're waiting for him to come out of it. I can't get into his mind right now." she made an exasperated noise. "It's like when you're so tired you sleep without dreams."
"Can anyone overhear you?" Wright asked.
"No. I could pick up any mind close enough to listen. If we were closer, I would contact your mind directly. I'm concerned. Jeremy went to check out some idea he had and he seems a little foggy."
"Wait, our leader is foggy? That's a new one."
"I know," Cindy said. "He hasn't even had a cold as long as I've known him. Will you go back to our building and stand by? I just have a feeling."
"I'm on my way. I'll be there if I'm needed." Wright paused and said, "Cindy, Jeremy is the last person we need to worry about. If anyone can take care himself, it's our Dire Wolf."
"I know, I know. Thanks, Ted. Keep in touch." She broke off and dialed Slade. Instantly, that calm voice answered. "Len, it's Cindy. What have you found out?"
"We are not dealing with a normal phenomenon," the Trom answered. "This drug has been altered with gralic energy. It is 'thanatolin,' an example of Velkandu, gralic alchemy, and as such I know little about it. My conjecture is that the drug would cause rapid heartbeat, higher blood pressure and decreased alertness. Thanatolin is listed in Tel Shai lore as a forbidden artifact which makes its victim feel strong self-destructive tendencies. In effect, it's a suicide serum. The good aspect is that it has a short effective period of less than twelve hours before it degenerates into its base."
"Oh no," Cindy said. "That's what is happening. One of our enemies has created the Velkandu process and has infected people with this suicide drug. Regular medicine can't treat it. Len, how is it spread?"
"My theory is that skin to skin contact would be enough to pass an effective dose."
Cindy leaped up. "Len! Jeremy touched one of the victims! He subdued the Chinese guy." Hanging up, the blonde pressed a button to signal Bane's own Link to beep. She held it down for thirty seconds, then a minute, with no result. Spinning on one heel, she took off down the hall as fast as she could run.
IV.
"You look like more of a fool than ever," smirked the skull-faced man. "Yes, I am Golgora and no, of course you did not kill me. My neck was broken, true, and that is not something I relish. But we of Perjena are more hardy in some ways than you Humans. I must wear a brace for months yet, but I am not so easily discouraged."
"You were dead," insisted Bane numbly. If everyone he'd killed could come back to haunt... wait, what was WRONG with him? Why was he so dazed?
"Hah! I see the symptoms." He rose and took a deep draw on the cigarette, spreading a sour aroma not of tobacco in the room. "My turn to greet the Great Mystery will come, do not worry about that. But my work must be finished first. I shall end my life in a proper and ceremonial manner, you savage... not at your hands!"
The Dire Wolf took a step forward. He should draw his gun, or unsheathe the silver daggers. This monster must be stopped. But it seemed like such an effort to move. The cold grey eyes were unfocussed. "What- what did you do to me?"
"Ah, the light dawns in your feeble head, eh? I enjoy seeing these symptoms in you. It means you have touched a thanatolin carrier."
"I don't- "
"Thanatolin!" snapped the skull-faced terrorist. "It restores the Will To Die. You Humans have forgotten the fulfilment of ending one's life at the proper time. Even your people called Japanese are neglecting their ritual of Seppuku. But I waste my time on you. The holy serum is working, isn't it?"
"Yes."
Golgora stepped closer to Bane and blew smoke from the corner of his mouth. "Hear me, Human fool. Go to the roof. I recommend the roof for you." He discarded his cigarette on the floor and tucked the holder away. "I must return home now. Hopefully more of the holy serum has been distilled. Our alchemists find it difficult to prepare." The Nekrosan grinned hideously. "We will meet again, briefly! I will wait on the street to watch you."
With that, the Nekrosan left and Bane stood alone in the room. It was so hard to think. After a half minute, he slowly went out into the hall and took the elevator to the top floor. His Link beeped but he did not want to be bothered, and shortly after it went quiet.
A winter's day, in a cold and dark December. Bane stood alone. Gazing from the rooftop to the streets below, he fought his most desperate battle and lost. He felt terrible. He felt old and tired and sick of everything.
Bane could not remember anything before the age of eleven or so, when he had been an orphan alone on the streets. Nothing brought back memories from before then, and he had stopping trying to remember. Even as a child, he had been quicker than a normal human, able to steal whatever he needed, run faster than anyone pursuing and doing it again the next day. He had never needed to join a gang. He lived alone in every way. He touched no one and no one touched him. He had clawed for survival in a hostile world since childhood, that was all there was.
That had changed a little when he had met Kenneth Dred, who had trusted him and encouraged him without reservation. But Dred had died. You couldn't count on anyone. Where was Cindy now? He thought he had always known in the deepest part of his mind that someday he would need her and she wouldn't be there. Women were like that. Humans were like that. People were just no good. He was the only one on his side, it was Jeremy Bane against the whole world and the pressure was breaking him.
The rain was harder now. It had turned to sleet. He looked down at the dirty streets forty stories below and wanted the freezing rain to wash everything away. In part of his mind, Bane realized he was thinking this was because of the suicide serum but he wondered if it could do this if deep down, he wasn't genuinely bitter and miserable. Maybe Golgora's drug couldn't work without something to build on. Maybe it was just showing him the truth.
This wouldn't be hard. He stepped up to the chest high fence around the edge of the building. He was athletic enough to climb up and over. How long would the fall be? No more than a few seconds, certainly, then he would find peace as he hit the intersection. God, his head was pounding. It looked like he would become part of 28th Street. Good enough. Bane hooked his fingers high up in the wire mesh and heaved upwards, standing atop the fence for a second before diving out as far as he could into the cold rain.
V.
Cindy had never run so hard in her life. She jumped up on to the curb, her sneaker slipping just for a second on the icy sidewalk. The rain had dropped below freezing. Even as she stopped and caught her breath, she saw the tall figure of Leonard Slade running from the other direction, answering her call to trace Bane by his Link. He must be in this building. The Trom came to halt next to her and her powers reached out, searching for the mind she knew best. There. She snapped her head up just in time to see a dark figure dive off the top of the building. "Jeremy!"
Except for Bane himself, possibly no other living being could have reacted as quickly as Slade. The Trom thumbed control patches on the stiff cuffs of his suit and the gravity shield on his back activated with a hum. He shot directly up like a missile being fired, accelerating as he went. He left the sidewalk a mere second after the Dire Wolf had jumped from the roof, but he flashed up to intercept Bane faster than a body could fall. Superhuman arms seized Bane in midair, cushioning the impact and closing tight as clamps. Still rising, the Trom decelerated and landed neatly on the roof.
"Let go! Let go of me!" Bane shouted, struggling violently. Slade knew his captain's abilities and dared not release him. Even with his own superior strength, he was not sure he could fight Bane without either or both of them being severely hurt.
As his boots touched down, the Trom managed to get the fingers of his right hand on a specific spot on the back of Bane's neck. Pressure on the spinal nerve center dug in with surgical precision. Another second and the Dire Wolf sagged as Slade lowered him to the wet roof.
Stepping away, Slade peered through the wire fence. He could see no one who might have seen him during that brief flight. It was ironic that only a few hours earlier, his captain had reminded him not to use the gravity shield in public. Down below, he recognized Ted Wright rushing across the street toward the front of this building. The door slammed in the access shed and Cindy ran out onto the roof. All her attention was on Bane, and Slade left her to take care of him. He descended down the stairs, intending to meet Wright when he arrived.
Sitting on the cold wet roof, Cindy held the unresponsive Bane. She put his arms around her shoulders so she supported him and brought their faces close together. The subtle perception of her telepathic mind probed through barriers of unconsciousness and thanatolin. It was more difficult than she had feared to reach him. Much of the defensive shell in his mind was back again, hostile and neurotic and savage.
"Jeremy, don't die," she whispered. "I love you. I don't want you to leave."
The suicide serum burned in his system like acid, bringing out all the alienation and rage of a life spent fighting for survival. He had grown up being feared and hated, counting on nothing but himself. But Cindy would not give him up now. For the past year, since she had broken through his armor, they had touched each other deeply, made love and felt love. That was what she struggled to bring up fresh in his memory now. If never before, now he had someone worth living for.
Bane stirred and groaned. He broke out in sweat as the drug left his system, the pale grey eyes opened and settled on her.
"Hi, Jeremy," she said softly, "welcome back."
"Hi yourself," he answered. "Where was I?"
4/2/2013
(7/9/1972) [original title "Die With Open Eyes"]
12/10/1981
I.
A cold, drizzly December morning in New York City, dark as twilight. A petite blonde woman and a tall black man walked slowly, talking, going nowhere in particular. She wore a white raincoat and had her hair pulled up into a ponytail that reached her collar. He was wearing a dark brown suit with a tan dress shirt, but no tie, his collar pulled up.
"What's taking so long to set up your clinic, anyway?" Cindy asked after a minute of silence between them. "Red tape?"
Ted Wright let out a breath. There was grey in his short hair and beard, and he had a heavy, sad face. "More than I ever thought possible. I closed my practice two years ago, but I am still on call at the Jefferson Memorial when their ER is swamped. I thought I would get approval for my clinic right away."
The blonde telepath bumped up against him in a friendly way. "Too bad you can't tell the medical board about what you've learned at Tel Shai. Your Blue Guide powers would be a big help in any hospital."
"Never happen," he grumbled. "They'd think I was insane, or worse, a fraud. My skills are mostly in diagnoses and helping people heal, and I couldn't explain how I did it. I'd be up on charges in a blink."
Cindy slipped her arm around his waist, sticking her thumb in a loop of his belt. "Well, WE appreciate you. Once you get your clinic set up next door, you can help people without insurance know what's wrong with them, and we'll still have you on hand for our wild and crazy adventures.'
He patted her on the back. "Thanks. You know, I was at Tel Shai for two years before you and Jeremy and the others showed up. I really was not clear on what I was going to do with my skills... Cin?"
She had stopped right in midstep. They were near the George Washington Bridge, close enough to see the cars crawling along its three thousand feet of concrete and metal. Her mind, the priceless telepathic mind that made the KDF a viable team instead of a disorganized group with nothing in common, had suddenly reached out in anxiety. She had picked up on something. The Will To Die!
Then she saw him, a tiny figure climbing up on one of the swaying cables which supported the bridge, and she knew with a dread certainty that he was going to jump. Even worse, her mind picked up that he was being made to do so. "Ted! That man up there!" she cried, pointing.
Wright had snapped into instant alertness, following her line of sight. He sprinted forward, trying to get as close as he could. Behind him, Cindy had snapped the Link from her belt and said into it, "Jeremy. Get the corby to the George Washington Bridge! Hurry!"
The man now standing high on a pylon was wearing a white shirt and dark pants, all that could be made out at this distance. As Wright came running to the shore of the Hudson, the faroff figure swayed and spun end-over-end as it plummeted down through the air. "No!' shouted Wright and he held up his open hand. There was nothing obviously unusual about that long-fingered, dark-skinned hand but it was the focal point which Thaddeus James Wright used to visualize his power. Now a faint, barely visible shimmer of pale blue light came into existence around that hand- exactly like the aura of flickering blue energy which sprang up around the falling man.
Wright stood with feet well apart, jaw clenched, all his will and concentration pouring into the gralic energy that surged invisibly from him to the falling man, whose descent slowed down as if something was supporting him. Gravity contended with the transcendental power of gralir. Slower and slower, the man floated down to the brown water. He hit with only a small splash and no impact. Standing on the barrier holding back the river, the Blue Guide swayed and kept focussed. Something was fighting him. Some unseen occult force was at work, making the manifestation of his powers much more difficult than was normal.
From midtown, far more quickly than normal aerodynamics would explain, a black helicopter hurtled overhead. The Corby's passage was almost silent and could not heard over normal traffic noises. The craft curved around tightly, diving down close to the river surface. Leonard Slade was at the controls, swinging the copter around in a manner that would have made a true Human pilot black out. Within seconds, he was just a few feet above the surface over the man. Oddly, the rotor blades spun but did not seem to generate much wash, only a little spray rose from the river. An observer might wonder if the Corby was really being lifted by the blades.
The blue glow of Wright's manifestation was visible from beneath the surface, where the man had sunk. Slade slid the hatch open and dove smoothly into the water. No one was close enough to see that the helicopter was hovering stable without anyone at the controls. A few seconds passed, then he broke the surface with the man under one arm. Again, there were no observors closer than the drivers in the traffic on the bridge and they could not tell how he got back up into the hovering copter. If someone had been nearer, it would be seen that he rose up out of the water as if pulled on a non-existent cable. Leonard Slade wore a black jumpsuit with numerous pockets and devices attached. He had short black hair and calm dark eyes, The handsome, olive-skinned face showed no emotion as he drew his own Link to speak to Cindy watching from the shore.
"This man is dead," announced the Trom. "He deliberately drowned himself."
II.
Standing on the roof of the ten-story headquarters building, Jeremy Bane clicked his Link back into its setting in his belt buckle. He had just gotten the report. CPR had been administered on the drowning victim, with no results. Slade had turned the body over to paramedics and was on his way back; Cindy and Ted would walk, they were a few minutes away. The Dire Wolf saw the Corby approaching and he went back down the narrow stairs to the hangar below. The silent helicopter descended neatly. He had to give Slade credit, he landed the craft with mathematical precision. As the rotor blades slowed to a halt, Bane threw the controls that made the wide roof panels slide shut again.
Leonard Slade climbed out of the cockpit and approached his captain. He was an inch or so taller than Bane, more powerfully built, but he seemed so detached and aloof that people were uncomfortable around him. The Trom looked Human, but he wasn't.
"Jeremy. I suggest we obtain a copy of the autopsy results. The man's actions were not normal for a suicide."
Bane folded his arms and confronted the Trom. "Len, I don't want the public to see us in action if we can help it. You flew up out of the river into the cockpit, didn't you?"
"Yes," Slade replied. "Under current viewing conditions and at the distance the cars on the bridge were, no one could have discerned my actions. The odds of anyone having a telescope or binoculars on hand and focusing them on me in those three seconds are negligible."
"All right. Just don't get careless. I want us to stay under the radar. No flying in public."
The Trom nodded his head a fraction of an inch. "I understand. Trom policy also stresses a low profile."
The Dire Wolf gestured at the Corby. "When do you think the second one will be ready?"
"Steven is working on it now. He thinks it will be available for our use in two weeks. I have found him optimistic in the past. I suggest you take into account that projects will take longer and cost more than he anticipates."
"You know, you Trom can be real diplomatic," Bane said. "Let's see if Cindy and Ted are back."
The Dire Wolf led his teammate down the stairs to the floor below, which held the temporary detention cell and general storage. It was as far as the elevator went, since the tenth floor had originally been the roof. They went down to ground level in silence. Bane was comfortable with Slade, they had developed trust in their adventures, but he certainly did not have the genuine friendship he shared with the other members. Slade was in the KDF as an arrangement worked out to everyone's benefit. He received Tel Shai training and knowledge, in exchange for providing Trom technology for KDF Use. It was a business deal, but there was nothing wrong with that as long as they all aware of the set-up. Slade accepted that Bane was leader of their team of Tel Shai knights and he took orders, but Bane often wondered if the Trom was doing it grudgingly.
They got out on the second floor, just as Wright and Cindy hurried up the stairs to join them. "That was quite a trot," she said. "We were just below a gallop."
Bane led them into the conference room, where they took their customary seats around the long table. The Dire Wolf put his hands on the table, palms down, and asked, "Let's get everyone's impressions why this was not a normal occurence."
"Me first," Cindy butted in. She had taken off her raincoat and was wearing a baggy navy blue sweatshirt and jeans. "I picked up something wrong with his mind. I wasn't even probing, it was so strong it caught my attention. He had the Will To Die imposed on him. Something was making him act that way. We were too far away for me to try to get control of his mind, but I don't know if I could have anyway." The little blonde slapped one hand on the table. "Something is very wrong about all this."
Bane said, "Ted?"
"I agree with Cin," answered the black man somberly. "My powers mostly involve lifeforce. I can do some levitation, and I should have been able to affect that man more effectively than I did. Also, I could sense his lifeforce going out. Yes, this was not a normal suicide." He paused and added, "as much as any suicide can be called normal."
Leonard Slade did not wait to be called upon. "Before the ambulance arrived, I used the sensors in my Link to conduct a scan of his system. I have a significant finding. In addition to amounts of caffeine and nicotine within average limits for a coffee and tobacco user, this man had a foreign substance in his bloodstream. I detected toxic levels of a potent narcotic depressive."
"Narcotic?" repeated Bane. "Like what?"
"Not a street drug. I can not identify it beyond giving its chemical formula, which would mean nothing to you."
"Oh great," Wright muttered. "A new dope. That's all this city needs."
"Len, could that drug be the cause of his behavior? What are its effects?"
Before Slade could answer, the phone on the wall near the door rang. Being closest, Cindy jumped for it. "Kenneth Dred Foundation. Hi, lieutenant. What? Where? Uh-huh. Okay, we're on our way." She hung up and pointed at Bane. "That was really for you. Lieutenant Flanigan says there's a guy on Mott Street wired up with dynamite. He's asking for you."
The Dire Wolf was out of his seat. "Me? Did he say who it is?"
"Nope. I think Flanigan just likes giving you a hard time. Shall we go?"
"Absolutely. Ted, I want you to go and get an autopsy report on the guy from the river. You're a doctor and you were on the scene. Len, I want you to do an analysis of the mystery drug, figure out its effects and whip up an antidote."
Slade replied, "I will start to 'whip up' an antidote at once," with just enough emphasis to suggest a sense of humor.
"Cin, we two are on the human bomb. Oh, and Ted- see if you can locate Khang. I have no idea where he wandered off to this time." As he spoke, Bane helped Cindy with her raincoat and led her quickly down the stairs. On the ground floor, just by the front door to 38th Street, they entered a stand-up closet and opened a panel which revealed concrete steps. Down a short corridor flanked by the arsenal and the vault, they entered the garage where two cars were kept.
"Let me drive, you ALWAYS drive," Cindy commanded as she snatched a set of keys from a hook on the wall. The blonde hopped behind the wheel of a dark red Chevy Malibu and started it up as Bane got in the passenger seat. Pulling out of there was tricky. The ramp had a sharp twist that wasn't easy to make but cindy squeaked through and got out onto Lexington Avenue. She was actually a good driver. Aside from her actual skill, her telepathic awareness gave her an advantage in knowing what other drivers were planning to do and she could frequently plow through red lights without trouble. They arrived at Mott Street in record time, Cindy did some neat parallel parking into the only open space and they got out.
One cruiser was double parked by the door to a Chinese restaurant, The Panda, but with its lights off. Standing near the car was a uniformed officer and a short beefy man in a dark brown suit. He shook a cigarette out and tossed it in the gutter as he saw Bane and Cindy hurry up.
"Hi, Lieutenant!" Cindy sang out cheerfully. "Getting to count on us?"
"You have your uses," Flanigan answered sourly. He always looked as if he had acid reflux. "That is, when something creepy and horrifying has happened. But this time, some one asked for you personally.. I mean you, Mr Dire Wolf."
Bane started toward the open door to The Panda but Cindy grabbed his arm."Oh my God. In there, it's the Will To Die again."
He looked down at the concern in her face and said, "We'll take it slow." They stepped up to the door and peered inside.
To the right was a counter with a cash register, to the left a rack for hanging coats. Standing in the middle of the restaurant, with tables kicked over on either side, was a middle-aged Chinese man in a loud short-sleeved shirt and baggy trousers. He had sticks of dynamite taped around his chest, with a wire going up to a plunger control in his hand, and he was sobbing loudly.
"Leung? Jim Leung?" asked Bane, taking a step further.
"Jeremy! Help me. Remember the old days in Black Mantis. We swore to help each other when in need." The man shook with his crying. "I- don't want to do this!"
Beside the Dire Wolf, Cindy whispered, "Hon, he's all screwed up in the mind. I don't know where to start with him."
Bane held up his open hands and stepped closer. "Jim, what's the problem? Things can't be that bad."
"I don't know, I don't know," the man screamed. "My family needs me. And yet, and yet I have the Will To Die!"
Now he was close enough to see that Leung held a plunger which had to be closed to detonate. It was not a deadman switch. Cindy whispered, "I can cloud his mind for a second, he'll get all dazed and slow." Bane told her, "Say when."
Jim Leung's eyes got glazed and he swayed backwards. Cindy said, "Go!"
In a split-second, Bane closed the gap and snatched the plunger out of Leung's grip, tugging it upward and grabbing the cord with his other hand to yank it apart. The cord snapped. As he did this, the man grabbed hold of him with both arms in a bear hug. They fell to the floor before Bane could wrestle loose and get up again. Leung was clawing at him, crying loudly. The Dire Wolf grabbed both of the man's arms and brought him up to his feet. "Jim! What the hell's wrong with you? Talk to me, man!" Leung would not calm down and Bane spun him around, pulling one of the man's arms up behind his back.
Cindy had gone to bring Lt Flanigan and the cop into the restaurant. "Well, good work, Bane. We'll take him off your hands."
As the officer handcuffed Leung's arms behind his back, Bane stepped back with distress visible on his face.
"I can't understand this," he told Flanigan. "Jim Leung was a level-headed guy. Listen. Can you get blood work done on him? I think maybe he was given a new drug I've heard rumors of."
"We can't do that without his permission," the lieutenant said, "but I'll talk him into it."
Bane turned to the blonde who was watching him with worried eyes. "Cin?"
"Are you okay yourself, Jeremy? Something's off."
"Me? Sure, I'm fine." But he was rubbing his palms together. They felt irritated, almost as if he had burned them somehow.
"Cin, I want you to go with Flanigan and see what you can read. They'll interrogate him but I think you can pick up what's going on in his mind."
"I suppose," she answered uncertainly. "What are you going to be doing?"
"I have a hunch I want to investigate. It'll probably turn out to be nothing. Report as soon as you get anything from Jim's mind. Something about this case worries me. Keep in touch," he said as he hurried out of the restaurant. Cindy reluctantly watched him leave.
III.
Moodily, Bane watched the traffic as he stood by the curb. There was hardly anyone out today. The wind and the cold rain were a combination no one wanted to deal with. Not that he had to worry about being hit by a car. With his reflexes geared up so high, drivers couldn't hit him if they were trying. At 28th Street, he crossed over at 5th and entered the lobby of the 40-story Brackett Building, getting in the elevator and punching the button for the 9th floor. It had been over a year since he had been dragged here by Harry Werner, and much had happened to him in that time but the elevator looked the same.
Getting out on the 9th floor, he still had seen no one. He stood in a hallway with a row of doors opening into different offices. Bane felt funny. He paused and went over to a window at the end of the hall, looking down at the rainy streets and he tried to gather his thoughts. It would be strange if he was getting sick, that was rare for him, but he was so uncomfortable. The hallways seemed overheated and oppressive. The Dire Wolf stood by the window for a few more minutes, remembering. In March of the previous year, he had come here to settle with a Nekrosan who had sent an assassin after him. The Nekrosim were a hermit Race who rarely left their realm, Perjena, to come to the cities of Men.
The Nekrosim had faces like skulls barely covered with skin, and their culture was as sick by Human standards as could be imagined, with Death worship and elaborate suicide rituals. Other Races had little to do with them. Only a handful of them had ever entered the real world, and each had brought trouble. Golgora had been such a one. He had come with a supply of the Darthan drug helldust, building a ring of addicts completely dependent upon him and willing to carry out any order he gave. Harry Werner had been sent to kill Bane and had failed. After Ted Wright temporarily cured the man of his addiction, Werner had brought Bane here to confront Golgora. That had ended in a brief struggle in which the Dire Wolf had killed the Nekrosan with an open hand blow where the neck joined the shoulder. After that, the addicts who could be located had gone to clinics but few had survived withdrawal. But... wait. What was he doing here?
Bane straightened up. He had been leaning his face against the coolness of the window without realizing it. Why did he feel so sluggish? Where was the restless energy that usually drove him? Standing, he breathed deeply to clear his head and turned around to look for the door he had entered a year ago. There it was, still with the nameplate that read TERMINUS CONSULTING. Strange that the suite had not been released to anyone else, but this was what he had wanted to find out. Maybe the Nekrosim kept this place as their outpost in the cities of Men. The door was unlocked. He opened it and stepped through into nightmare.
Sitting on a bench before a wide picture window was a thin man in an expensive, well-tailored suit. He had a scarf of yellow silk around his throat. In his hand was an ivory cigarette holder and he exhaled smoke from a corner of the wide lipless mouth. His totally bald head had a faint unhealthy sheen, deepset dark eyes watched out from under a heavy brow ledge. His nose was a stub with nostrils, his ears merely two holes on the sides of his head. The dry skin was stretched tautly over bone and his face looked like nothing so much as a living skull.
And Jeremy Bane, seeing this horror smirking at him, felt cold disbelief crawl up his spine. For the skull-faced man was Golgora.
IV.
At the police station on 20th Street, Cindy Brunner stepped into a niche in a hall that had a bench and sat down. She took out her Link and called Ted Wright. "Hi, this is Cin. Any results yet?"
"The doctors here are lost," came Wright's voice. "They found the drug that Len mentioned but it remains unidentified and now they tell me it shouldn't have any psychoactive effects. It should be an inert compound."
"That's weird," she said. "I'm at cop central. Lt Flanigan let me know there have been four other suicides this morning. All without prior behavior indicating mental illness, all completely unexpected. The guy from the PANDA restaurant has gone into an exhausted sleep and they're waiting for him to come out of it. I can't get into his mind right now." she made an exasperated noise. "It's like when you're so tired you sleep without dreams."
"Can anyone overhear you?" Wright asked.
"No. I could pick up any mind close enough to listen. If we were closer, I would contact your mind directly. I'm concerned. Jeremy went to check out some idea he had and he seems a little foggy."
"Wait, our leader is foggy? That's a new one."
"I know," Cindy said. "He hasn't even had a cold as long as I've known him. Will you go back to our building and stand by? I just have a feeling."
"I'm on my way. I'll be there if I'm needed." Wright paused and said, "Cindy, Jeremy is the last person we need to worry about. If anyone can take care himself, it's our Dire Wolf."
"I know, I know. Thanks, Ted. Keep in touch." She broke off and dialed Slade. Instantly, that calm voice answered. "Len, it's Cindy. What have you found out?"
"We are not dealing with a normal phenomenon," the Trom answered. "This drug has been altered with gralic energy. It is 'thanatolin,' an example of Velkandu, gralic alchemy, and as such I know little about it. My conjecture is that the drug would cause rapid heartbeat, higher blood pressure and decreased alertness. Thanatolin is listed in Tel Shai lore as a forbidden artifact which makes its victim feel strong self-destructive tendencies. In effect, it's a suicide serum. The good aspect is that it has a short effective period of less than twelve hours before it degenerates into its base."
"Oh no," Cindy said. "That's what is happening. One of our enemies has created the Velkandu process and has infected people with this suicide drug. Regular medicine can't treat it. Len, how is it spread?"
"My theory is that skin to skin contact would be enough to pass an effective dose."
Cindy leaped up. "Len! Jeremy touched one of the victims! He subdued the Chinese guy." Hanging up, the blonde pressed a button to signal Bane's own Link to beep. She held it down for thirty seconds, then a minute, with no result. Spinning on one heel, she took off down the hall as fast as she could run.
IV.
"You look like more of a fool than ever," smirked the skull-faced man. "Yes, I am Golgora and no, of course you did not kill me. My neck was broken, true, and that is not something I relish. But we of Perjena are more hardy in some ways than you Humans. I must wear a brace for months yet, but I am not so easily discouraged."
"You were dead," insisted Bane numbly. If everyone he'd killed could come back to haunt... wait, what was WRONG with him? Why was he so dazed?
"Hah! I see the symptoms." He rose and took a deep draw on the cigarette, spreading a sour aroma not of tobacco in the room. "My turn to greet the Great Mystery will come, do not worry about that. But my work must be finished first. I shall end my life in a proper and ceremonial manner, you savage... not at your hands!"
The Dire Wolf took a step forward. He should draw his gun, or unsheathe the silver daggers. This monster must be stopped. But it seemed like such an effort to move. The cold grey eyes were unfocussed. "What- what did you do to me?"
"Ah, the light dawns in your feeble head, eh? I enjoy seeing these symptoms in you. It means you have touched a thanatolin carrier."
"I don't- "
"Thanatolin!" snapped the skull-faced terrorist. "It restores the Will To Die. You Humans have forgotten the fulfilment of ending one's life at the proper time. Even your people called Japanese are neglecting their ritual of Seppuku. But I waste my time on you. The holy serum is working, isn't it?"
"Yes."
Golgora stepped closer to Bane and blew smoke from the corner of his mouth. "Hear me, Human fool. Go to the roof. I recommend the roof for you." He discarded his cigarette on the floor and tucked the holder away. "I must return home now. Hopefully more of the holy serum has been distilled. Our alchemists find it difficult to prepare." The Nekrosan grinned hideously. "We will meet again, briefly! I will wait on the street to watch you."
With that, the Nekrosan left and Bane stood alone in the room. It was so hard to think. After a half minute, he slowly went out into the hall and took the elevator to the top floor. His Link beeped but he did not want to be bothered, and shortly after it went quiet.
A winter's day, in a cold and dark December. Bane stood alone. Gazing from the rooftop to the streets below, he fought his most desperate battle and lost. He felt terrible. He felt old and tired and sick of everything.
Bane could not remember anything before the age of eleven or so, when he had been an orphan alone on the streets. Nothing brought back memories from before then, and he had stopping trying to remember. Even as a child, he had been quicker than a normal human, able to steal whatever he needed, run faster than anyone pursuing and doing it again the next day. He had never needed to join a gang. He lived alone in every way. He touched no one and no one touched him. He had clawed for survival in a hostile world since childhood, that was all there was.
That had changed a little when he had met Kenneth Dred, who had trusted him and encouraged him without reservation. But Dred had died. You couldn't count on anyone. Where was Cindy now? He thought he had always known in the deepest part of his mind that someday he would need her and she wouldn't be there. Women were like that. Humans were like that. People were just no good. He was the only one on his side, it was Jeremy Bane against the whole world and the pressure was breaking him.
The rain was harder now. It had turned to sleet. He looked down at the dirty streets forty stories below and wanted the freezing rain to wash everything away. In part of his mind, Bane realized he was thinking this was because of the suicide serum but he wondered if it could do this if deep down, he wasn't genuinely bitter and miserable. Maybe Golgora's drug couldn't work without something to build on. Maybe it was just showing him the truth.
This wouldn't be hard. He stepped up to the chest high fence around the edge of the building. He was athletic enough to climb up and over. How long would the fall be? No more than a few seconds, certainly, then he would find peace as he hit the intersection. God, his head was pounding. It looked like he would become part of 28th Street. Good enough. Bane hooked his fingers high up in the wire mesh and heaved upwards, standing atop the fence for a second before diving out as far as he could into the cold rain.
V.
Cindy had never run so hard in her life. She jumped up on to the curb, her sneaker slipping just for a second on the icy sidewalk. The rain had dropped below freezing. Even as she stopped and caught her breath, she saw the tall figure of Leonard Slade running from the other direction, answering her call to trace Bane by his Link. He must be in this building. The Trom came to halt next to her and her powers reached out, searching for the mind she knew best. There. She snapped her head up just in time to see a dark figure dive off the top of the building. "Jeremy!"
Except for Bane himself, possibly no other living being could have reacted as quickly as Slade. The Trom thumbed control patches on the stiff cuffs of his suit and the gravity shield on his back activated with a hum. He shot directly up like a missile being fired, accelerating as he went. He left the sidewalk a mere second after the Dire Wolf had jumped from the roof, but he flashed up to intercept Bane faster than a body could fall. Superhuman arms seized Bane in midair, cushioning the impact and closing tight as clamps. Still rising, the Trom decelerated and landed neatly on the roof.
"Let go! Let go of me!" Bane shouted, struggling violently. Slade knew his captain's abilities and dared not release him. Even with his own superior strength, he was not sure he could fight Bane without either or both of them being severely hurt.
As his boots touched down, the Trom managed to get the fingers of his right hand on a specific spot on the back of Bane's neck. Pressure on the spinal nerve center dug in with surgical precision. Another second and the Dire Wolf sagged as Slade lowered him to the wet roof.
Stepping away, Slade peered through the wire fence. He could see no one who might have seen him during that brief flight. It was ironic that only a few hours earlier, his captain had reminded him not to use the gravity shield in public. Down below, he recognized Ted Wright rushing across the street toward the front of this building. The door slammed in the access shed and Cindy ran out onto the roof. All her attention was on Bane, and Slade left her to take care of him. He descended down the stairs, intending to meet Wright when he arrived.
Sitting on the cold wet roof, Cindy held the unresponsive Bane. She put his arms around her shoulders so she supported him and brought their faces close together. The subtle perception of her telepathic mind probed through barriers of unconsciousness and thanatolin. It was more difficult than she had feared to reach him. Much of the defensive shell in his mind was back again, hostile and neurotic and savage.
"Jeremy, don't die," she whispered. "I love you. I don't want you to leave."
The suicide serum burned in his system like acid, bringing out all the alienation and rage of a life spent fighting for survival. He had grown up being feared and hated, counting on nothing but himself. But Cindy would not give him up now. For the past year, since she had broken through his armor, they had touched each other deeply, made love and felt love. That was what she struggled to bring up fresh in his memory now. If never before, now he had someone worth living for.
Bane stirred and groaned. He broke out in sweat as the drug left his system, the pale grey eyes opened and settled on her.
"Hi, Jeremy," she said softly, "welcome back."
"Hi yourself," he answered. "Where was I?"
4/2/2013
