Bane

October 26, 1993

✟ ☧ ✟

10:11 PM

The wind howled through the pines, the tree line at Twin Knolls park slowly reclaiming it's territory through cracked, tilting sidewalks, and crumbling bike paths.

The new year came quietly, without fanfare, or fireworks, and if anyone was celebrating, no one celebrated at Twin Knolls.

Rain pelted Bane's mask in cold waves, rolling in droplets off his leather duster.

Driftwood was quiet, tonight. Not simply quiet, because it was raining, or because it was late; Driftwood was quiet, itself. The very spirit of the city felt dormant, hibernating as though it were a long winter, and Driftwood a slumbering beast.

Tonight, the Inquisition stayed off the streets, and out of the shadows; Coven, if any still dared, cast without consequence. Bane knelt, and then sat on the top of the hill. Here, a long time ago, this place was something... not only to Jonathan Walker, and his dead girl, but to everyone in Driftwood. The bands played, the sky lit up in magnificent explosions, and people cheered in another year.

No more. Not here, at least .

Bane leapt to his feet at the sound of twigs snapping under foot, spinning and drawing his pistols. Suheila stood quiet, her eyes to the ground. "Do you take the new year so lightly? Every year the dark as the last? Do you treat every year like the one before?"

Bane lowered his guns, and holstered them. He resumed his seat at the top of the hill. Suheila stepped up beside him, and sat. "I suppose time means little to you."

Bane shook his head, once, subtly. "Time."

"You should come out of this weather before you get cold, or sick."

Bane shrugged. "No cold. No sickness."

"I can get sick."

Bane nodded, once.

"What is this place to you? Why are you here?"

Bane stood abruptly, shaking the rain off himself, wet clothes matted tight to his body, clinging to his kevlar vest. "Go away, girl."

"I am afraid."

Bane looked over his shoulder.

Suheila shook her head. "Afraid to go home."

Bane turned, and faced Suheila.

Suheila stepped in a half circle around him. Bane's head turned, following her slowly to until she stood before him. Suheila lifted her shirt, bearing midriff, exposing faint scars, fresh burns, abrasions, and bruises. She lifted her shirt higher until the bottom of her brazier showed. "They go up further."

Bane reached out, and pulled her shirt back in place, glad his face was masked, lest she see him capable of expression.

He drew in a deep breath, and exhaled it all at once.

"Please help me."

"Your problem, witch."

"You don't mean that, and you know you don't. Help me before he kills me."

Bane shook head. "Your problems."

"Yours, too." Suheila's frowned, her brow knit into a tight furrow.

Bane said nothing, did nothing. He stared into her eyes, her beautiful eyes, fighting that something inside him that begged him to remove a glove, to reach out with and touch her face.