Fifty Shades of Bane: A Collaborative Halloween Fantasy-Horror Romance

"Looking for this, I presume?" His deep rumbly voice makes things deep within clench as Bane gracefully extends my decrepit, wayward digit in his long fingers. Pull yourself back together, Thana.

I twist my index finger back in place and sign the sheaf of papers with an extravagant flourish, leaving only a few flakes of skin behind in the process in my eagerness to get this over with. Bane's eyes burn back at me with an inner intensity while a faint ghost of a smile touches his lips under that lush copper beard once more.

"Um...so...uh, I have a few questions for you, Mr. Braiiiiins - I mean, Bane." My delicately rotten cheeks turn a pretty puce.

"Oh, indeed. And here I thought you were here for my deliciously charming wit." He covers his mouth with those long, lovely fingers, stroking his beard. He was laughing at me.

I could nibble on those fingers all night. Shaking myself out of my reverie over this hot smoking dwarf, I ignore the clump of hair that falls to the floor as I follow him into his office. The office is like roccocco gone wild - gold leaf covers everything in shining shineyness that screams wealth. I reached out towards a particularly sparkly pick-axe sculpture, only to break a nail on the table at the bellow next to me.

"Don't TOUCH that!"

I steeled myself as I turned to face Mr. Bane, who was now eyeing me sternly with his cool grey eyes. "Sit down," he growled imperiously.

Control freak. And greedy for gold. Yet somehow totally hot and potent at the same time in this dwarf as he rattled into a chair. He smoothed his chainmail out before him. I could jump him right now, if I hadn't broken my tailbone last week.

I stumbled into the chair across from him. I bit my lip as I eyed my questions once more. Then I remembered to stop chewing.

"So, you're quite the young dwarf to have amassed so much gold in your time. To what do you owe your wealth?" I glanced up at him. His faint smile is there again.

"It's all about finding the right mines at the right time, Ms. Morte. And knowing when to dig when the going gets tough. And the tough get going with axes and shovels. And I employ the toughest of the tough." His grey eyes burn into mine.

"Do you have a gold fetish?" I blurt out. He combs those long fingers with a lingering sweep through that blazing copper beard and my face flushes the color of prunes.

"We all have our fetishes, Ms. Morte. And some are much much much much darker than gold," he says, the smile disappearing.

Why are my insides quivering and shaking like the earth around us is about to crack open? What is it about this enigmatic dwarf and that freaking hot beard? Why am I asking myself so many questions when I should be asking Bane the questions?

"Is it true that you were recently attacked by a dragon, rumored to be after your gold?"

Bane's grey eyes flashed - in mirth or annoyance, I couldn't discern. But my heart thumped, as if remembering the electric jolt from earlier. Whoa...he's so hot with the gold shining off him like that. Like a sparkly dwarf from the Mines of Morea. Or was that Middle Earth?

"Of course! That's a matter of public record," he snapped. Dude. Chill. Hot guy but total control freak. Especially when mentioning the G-word. And yet I want to nibble on those fingers all the more...

The electricity of the moment was shattered, as were all the windows in the room, by a huge explosion just outside of Bane's office. I watched in stunned horror as flash grenades rolled into the room and went off, one after the other. Heavily armed troops poured into the room, from door, window, and skylight, firing as they moved.

As I felt round after round rip through my until-recently-quivering-with-sexual-anticipation body, I could see jets of blood shooting out of Bane, from his gigantic misshapen head to his small furry toes. I knew he was dead before he hit the floor.

I could feel half of my skull full away under the barrage of bullets, could feel my own putrid brains dripping down across my cheek. My arms were already stumps and as I tumbled down to the ground like a collapsing souffle, as my undead lifeforce left my body once and for all, I remember thinking "damn, I forgot to ask if he validates..."

I would have gasped if my lungs weren’t as full of holes as my granny’s lace doilies. Corpus continued to smile at me with way too many teeth for a dwarf, and I was continuing to long for him with a desire that made my un-beating heart attempt to thump.
“Windows?” he asked, looking at the cameras and reporters behind the plate glass behind me.“Why are you concerned with windows?” Perhaps I like windows, perhaps I like them a lot. Perhaps I have a passion with them...not for looking out…but looking inward. “

He came close to me, and his dwarven breath was laden with the sweet smells of steak tartare and blood pudding. I wanted to leap down his throat and bathe myself in his intestines. I wanted to…
Suddenly the other wall wavered and became clear. It was a window. And behind that window stood a pale, tall, statuesque woman with wispy white hair and an even wispier white gown. It was that crazy vampire, Emily. She’d been a vamp since Urban was the name of the Pope and not a Country Rock Star. Over the centuries she’d managed to convince herself that she was a Seraphim and not a vampire. There are jokes going around about her that no one dares tell within hearing. I’d done a story or two on her while I was alive and worked for the Daily Night. She was weird and tended to conveniently forget what century she was in. And she’d saved me from numerous Vamps, Were’s and Daemons. Well…until that last story on the zombies…

Now I worked for the Nightly Day.


She smiled and tapped on the glass, then held up her iPad.
“Great,” I thought, “At least she’s in this century. I didn’t know if I could put up with a string of ‘thees’ and ‘thous’ at this point.
“Well, it’s true. You ladies DO know each other,” Bane said.

His voice took on an air of carelessness as he sauntered towards a heavy mahogany wall closet with hundreds of tiny, intricately carved gargoyles leering out of the deep brown sheen of the doors.

"But 'know' is such a vague word. One might say they know someone simply from passing them in an elevator and nodding good morning to them each day. Hardly sufficient."

One gargoyle tried to nip him as he pulled on the closet door handle, and Bane swiped it away, then impaled it through the forehead with his letter opener. The entire deed took less than a second, and the rest of the tiny monsters froze. Bane opened the door to reveal a deep space filled with an extensive array of medieval weaponry mounted on velvet walls, everything from heavy whips and chains to ranseurs, glaives, and flails. I cringed with the mere sight of them. One blow from any, and I would have no more substance than a bowl of porridge.

Bane pulled a thick, braided whip from the closet and slowly turned around. His shoulders, even under the heavy chainmail, rippled and bulged as he caressed the whip with his long, masculine fingers. He took slow, deliberate steps towards me, his steely gaze never leaving mine. One step, two, three, four, I finally lost count in the depths of that gaze, and suddenly there he was, his lips a hairsbreadth from mine. Would he kiss me? He tilted his head ever so slightly to the side, his warm lips now hovering over that hole in the vicinity of what used to be my ear since that mishap last Tuesday. He ran the pointed tip of the whip softly down my arm, a featherlight touch filled with menace.

"Oh, Miss Morte," he breathed "you two WILL get to know each other..."

He raised the whip, his eyes sparkling with the rush of repressed pleasure waiting to surface. I cringed, waiting for the flail that would start rendering me as wispy as Emily while leaving my memories intact. Memories of the gamut of feelings that currently burned in my loins for Bane.
I looked up at him with involuntarily lowered lashes seductively shading my spongy, molding eyeballs.
He swung the whip. I caught it and pulled him close.
“Hey, you like my skin? Well, you oughta cause I got it off yo momma, What!?”
His eyes widened. Clearly he was used to being in charge. But that was going to change right now. I was going to get what I wanted before everything that wanted it fell off and got lost.
“Get the car, Emily. I think Corpus Bane wants to party at YOUR place.”
Emily cackled and then solidified. The things an ancient Vamp can do when they are not going overboard with the antique drama.
Emily has won awards for 'Antique Drama'.
Corpus’ eyes widened even wider, which is wide for a dwarf, used to, as they are, living in dark underground caves.
“You …you can DO THAT?” he asked Emily, ignoring me.
“When the key turns the lock, you’ll know how hard I rock,” Emily stated in a bland, emotionless voice.
“Oh, GREAT!” I thought to myself, “today she decides to get EMO.”

"Now that I have your attention, I think our readers deserve to know a few things."

I released him and removed from my briefcase a microscope and several samples of stone.

"There have been accusations you did not come by your amazing mining skills through entirely ethical means. I thought we could put some of those rumors to rest with a little test of your mineral knowledge."

"And you," Corpus said, "Would be the one to know about that."

I tingled inside and outside, down to the tips of my clumping hair, even the piece still stuck in my hairbrush, at the thought of showing him. "As a matter of fact, just before I transferred to my current university, I was living with my mother and attending a school in commuting distance. We covered basic gemology early. And besides, I was once buried in a quarry," I said, holding up a sample, watching it glitter under the light like the links in Bane's chainmail. "Sedementary."

"And you suppose this would impress me," He said, pulling up the next sample. "Metamorphic."

"Only convince you I am well-enough informed to conduct the interview," I said. "Igneous."

"Do you know what makes a stone igneous?" At his heavy intake of breath, his glorious muscles bulged, tightening against the plates of his armor. The restraint of that metal against flesh stirred me in ways I couldn't understand. No, really; I couldn't figure out whether they were inflaming me with love, or reminding me of the zombie-hunter who attempted to decapitate me with a shovel. "Below the surface of the earth lies magma. It flows in a slow, subtle burn, always under your feet, though you never know it."

I shuddered. Fire made me slightly nervous, but in Bane, there was an element of danger to that attraction.

"As the flowing hot stone runs and surfaces, it cools and becomes firm, unbreakable. That is what you see before you."

My fingers fumbled for the next sample. I think I lost one, but somehow I managed to remove the rock.

"Ah!" I said. "Gold! A ductile metal..."

"Look again," He groweled, his baritone sending shivers through me. "They call that fool's gold. But we're all fools, aren't we? Sometimes, we see the glitter, and it is that light slipping through our fingers that we really want. Gold is soft. But you... you can rend through skull and sinew to reach your delectible brains."

My eyelashes fluttered. "You mean it?"

"Yes. You are exactly my brand of pyrite."

Jaycinth:

I looked up at him with involuntarily lowered lashes seductively shading my spongy, molding eyeballs.

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I'm sorry -- am I allowed to do this? It's just

I think it's the word spongy. Now THAT'S a funny word!

ETA: ArachnePhobia cross-posted with me and wrote another

The restraint of that metal against flesh stirred me in ways I couldn't understand. No, really; I couldn't figure out whether they were inflaming me with love, or reminding me of the zombie-hunter who attempted to decapitate me with a shovel.

Click to expand...

CassandraW said:

I seized him by his gorgeous copper-colored beard, which I'd been longing to touch since the moment I'd laid my moldering eyes on him. Oh. So. Damn. Wiry. Yes. Oh, yes.

Corpus shrieked like a little girl. "NO! Whip me! Beat me! Use me like something that's frequently and brutally used until it wears out and is abandoned in a dumpster somewhere! But, for the love of satan and all his minions, DON'T touch my beard! I can't BEAR for anyone to touch my beard!"

Click to expand...

Yeah you and that dwarf got a long ride coming, but I feel sorrier for him than for you.

My eyes tore through the documents. I popped the left one back in, just in time to catch a few words in the fine print - and fine it was, too. Dwarfs are true calligraphers.

"What's this about beatings?" I gasped. "You reserve the right to beat me when you feel like it?"

Bane waved a nonchalant hand at my misgivings. "Oh, pooh, my sweet. Such beatings from me you will come to crave, or crave to..." He broke off in a chuckle and handed me a gold-plated pen. "Sign on the line and I'll show you."

I took the pen, careful not to drop any more fingers, and signed. When I raised my eyes to his - the left still needed a light tug - he had the whip gripped firmly in his hand. Gently, his eyes never leaving my poor ragged face, he began to slide it sensuously up and down the side of his body. The movement was mesmerizing, entrancing me as it outlined every curve, every... oh, my.

A shiver of pleasure shook my frame, dislodging flakes of skin that fell around me like fine, powdered corn starch. Bane moved closer. With the tip of the whip he drew patterns across my torso. I gasped as another thrill, more urgent than the last, ripped through my body.

"Oh, yes." I gasped again. "Yes. Beat me."

He was so close. I could see his desire and, more than ever, I needed to stroke that beard. I wanted to feel that whip caress my skin, feel that delicious pain that would awaken my deepest senses and make me feel... alive?

"Beat me!" I cried. "For the love of dawg, beat me!" I threw myself on the floor before him, heedless of what bits I might lose in the process. "Please. Please, beat me, now!"

Bane's bright pink tongue darted out and leisurely licked his full, fuchsia lips. He smiled.

"No."

I gasped, discretely chewing another little chunk of lip and swallowing as I rose back up before the magnificent hunk of molten dwarf before me. Then I switch to thinking in present tense again. Thinking in the past tense too long makes my brain start to itch for...

braiiiiiiiiinnnns...

I smack myself on the head, dislodging some serious dandruff and another matted clump of hair again. Focus on the tasty, er, freaking sexy dwarf in front of you, Thana! I am so going to have to buy some more hair implants again or my friend Trollmina will never let me hear the end of it. Or she'll try to make me grow a beard again to match her little tufts of hair on her chin.

The thought of a beard sends my loins to quivering dangerously once more. I peer into Bane's blazing grey eyes as he continues to smirk at me. Control freak thinks he can make me wait? I'll show him. I've been waiting for centuries to feel the earth shake and roll and now I'll -

"Excuse me, Mr. Bane?"

We all turn at the clipped British accent towards the ponderous golem at the door.

"Yes?" Bane asks imperiously, his bushy coppery brows lowering in warning over those smoldering grey eyes like bellows over silver forges.

"It's time, sir. The moon, sir."

Bane gasps, a long finger going to his luscious lip. He murmurs seductively under his breath, "Tonight of all nights to forget."

The moon?

My bosom twitched. Heaved. Pulsed. Throbbed.












That's the trouble with Playtex. It doesn't have any.

"Beat Friend and Enter,'" I read. My drawn-out zombie drawl pulled each word along. Was it my imagination, or could I detect a glimmer of excitement in Bane's eye?

The words glowed luminously over the secret door in the cave. I followed Bane as he made his way to it. I wished caverns weren't so... cave-like. I had trouble enough with smooth floors, what with my adorable clumsiness combined with my rotting zombie shuffle. I tripped over every small fissure in the stone and crevice.

"This only appears on the night of the full moon," Bane said, "And only until the first cloud fully blocks the light, which makes it disappear again."

"Did you beat any of your friends to see if it would open?" I asked. Please say you want to try, please say you want to try, please say...

"Friends," He said, his rumbling voice picking up a dark tremor. "I have gathered those here to attempt this, but the truth is, I do not make friends. I cannot trust others, not since I was betrayed by..."

His voice trailed off, and the melancholy pierced me straight to the heart, hitting me in places heretofore only the nuclear waste that had transformed me into this abomination could penetrate.

"At any rate, I've been reduced to attempting to open it through more traditional means." He gestured to the pile of pickaxes. "You see, when I cannot get what I want through the usual means, I beat, I crush, I push until all obstacles have been subdued."

"It is not a clear night," the golem said. "The clouds approach, sir."

I still craved the taste of brains to ease the encroaching feeling of my own decomposition. The golem had none.

"OH, MY!"

My legs became tangled in the pile of pickaxes. I attempted to right myself, but that only made me snap my arm in half as I plunged it into the stone wall. I knocked myself forward, straight into the hidden door. My forehead smacked directly into the word 'friend.'

The door shuddered and sank into the floor. I gasped.

"Of course!" Bane stroked his lustrous beard. "It's a riddle! I wasn't supposed to beat a friend, I was supposed to beat the word friend written upon the door!"

I clutch my broken arm carefully as we walk inside, surreptitiously snapping the elbow joint back in place. At least that solved your playtex issue, Thana. I giggle.

Bane looks over his broad, strapping shoulders at me with a stern frown. I giggle again and his eyes burn into mine disapprovingly. He snaps a finger and the Golem lumbers forward with a lit torch. I shy closer to Bane. I tell myself it is to avoid the fire, but really it's an excuse. Whoa...he smells so good up close. Like musty, dry books with the hint of bat guano. I inhale deeply. Want. Yeah. Sexy dwarf with that shiny gold chainmail and that long luscious beard I could reach out and touch right -

"WHAT did I say about touching, Miss Morte?" Bane gasps in indignation, even as he clasps my hand in his, stroking off flakes of skin from my rotting palms. I blush in the dark and things deep inside begin to clench and twist like my undies in a bunch. If I were wearing any. I giggle again.

A faint glimmer shines from up ahead. Oooh. Shiney. Maybe there will be things to nibble on, as well. I furtively chew my lip again to stave off the hunger. The hunger that matches the burning fever rising once more at Bane's touch on my hand.

We approach an underground pool, shimmering with some hidden light. Suddenly, a foul little creature darts before us.

"My preccccciiouusssss! Haves you seen my precious?" It snarls at us. Even I don't look that bad.

Bane is about to answer when a little yip sounds nearby. The creature before us scrabbles around on its paws, letting out a fearful snarl.

"Precccciousssss. Precioussss is hungry. Preciousssss wants tasty little bits. Little bitses and peizes like this dwarfses and this," the nasty thing pauses and stares up at me, "not you."

Bane steps forward commandingly, raising his fist. "The only one who gets to talk dirty or insulting or degrading to Miss Morte is me! Corpus Bane. Because I can. And I will." His eyes blaze up into mine. "Oh, I will...."

The creature backs away from us hissing. "Oh, precious will likes you. Yes...yes, you will do."

It disappears into the darkness, even as the little patter of paws draws near. Gawd, what now? Why can't I just have some time alone with Corpus so he can whip me, beat me, smack me into a passionate state of ecstasy? Why, cruel world?

A little growl echos from blinking little eyes near the edge of the water, and a small, incredibly furry Chihuaha appears. "Well, helloooooooo, baby."

Corpus screams like a little girl when the chihuey sprouts wings in mid leap and flies into his glorious beard. My smoking hot dwarf smacks at the little werepup with his graceful fingers then yelps again when the pup bites his fingers. But I wanted to nibble on those!

Emily appears in a poof of smoke. "How many times I prayeth, must I implore thee not to leave me like - Gaah! The chupicabrah chihuey! Nooo!"

My breath and heart would have raced with anticipation at the sight of Bane drawing his massive, firm, double-bladed axe, had they not both been still with the silence of eternal death. In the darkness of the mysterious cavern, the metal clashed with an uproar like a waterfall of blood; and waterfalls of blood, I was certain, Bane had spilled.

"Let us hence forth and flee!" Emily said, grabbing my wrist. I winced as she pulled my hand off in her noble attempt to haul me to safety. I did, after all, only shamble. I had thought of joining some kind of marathon club so I might be one of those zombies capable of running, but I couldn't stop tripping over the starting line. And it was painted in place. That's how clumsy I am.

My heart... rather, the place my heart should be... wishing it was there to race, I felt distinctly woozy.

I fainted, collapsing to the cavern floor as all went dark.

***

I woke to cover fire of golden arrows. Warm hands gathered me... and since I'd splattered a bit when I'd fallen, they did indeed have to gather me. Some pieces had managed to fly quite far off. I hoped, of course, they would be the hairy hands of Corpus Bane.

But who should it be instead but my childhood friend, the elf Jha'ko'velas?

I sat up.

"Let me guess," He laughed. "You thought a were-chihuey was cute and provoked it and tripped when you were running and then fainted."

"Uh, Velas," I said, remembering his old nickname. "I'm just that predictable, huh? You know, I haven't seen you since my overprotective father brought you over to help me fix that rusty old beater car he bought me. Remember how it was so old and decrepit he couldn't even identify it, and you came over and with one wrench and can of spray paint, revealed it as a show-quality vintage Studebaker?"

"Yes," He sighed regretfully. "But then there was that accident at the nuclear power plant. They told me you'd been killed, and that I shouldn't worry about all that toxic waste leaking into your crypt, because it was perfectly harmless. But now here you are again, looking just like I remember you! ...well... the parts that haven't rotted off, anyway."

I heard a terrible growl and soon Corpus Bane was at my side, pulling me away from Velas with gruesome rage.

Oh, my. I hadn't thought about it at all, but this could be a problem. Velas was an elf.

And elves were the mortal enemies of dwarves.

"Stand back!" Bane roared, weiling his glorious, blood washed axe above his head with his ridiculously short arms. The muscles beneath his coating of fiery army hair trembled under the strain of the weapon's weight. His armor danced with the light of the torches along the dungeon walls.

"What the bloody hell is your problem, eh?" Velas yelped. He dashed away fractions of a second before the axe ground into the marble on which he had been seated.

"No one will lay a hand on Bella's deliciously rotted flesh-except for me" He brought the axe down again, missing Velas by a hair.

"You wot, m8? Who's Bella?" Velas crowed, fear causing his virginal, whiny voice to quiver.

"I... I don't know, actually. Sometimes my "find and replace" doesn't work as well as it ought to. Look, nevermind! No filthy warewolves will lurk in the Castle of Bane!" He hollared, sweat trickling down the back of his oddly wide neck in tides.

"Werewolves? I'm a bloody Elf!"

"Oh. Quite right. Uhhh. Quite right you are." Bane stopped, axe planted beside his moose skin boots.

Sighing with relief, Velas straightened his oversized glasses and tugged at the legs of his skinny jeans.

"Wait, aren't you an underdog romantic interest for Thana?" Bane asked, his thick beard hair scraping along his deliciously thick fingers.

"Well yeah, eh? But Wat's so bad about that? Little competition really going to hurt a beast like you?"

"I suppose not. Wait just a minute! Aren't you also Canadian?"

"Maybe British, I dunno. I haven't decided!" Velas whimpered.

Down came the axe again, splitting stone into pebbles.

The man took a surreptitious swig from his hip flask, cunningly disguised as a portfolio. His last gig had been a disaster, but his agent had secured him a new challenge. At least, he thought the woman had been his agent. That had been a few hours and several drinks ago.
He looked around the foyer with blearly eyes. So bleary, in fact, he hallucinated an extra 'l' in there.
Bane Enterprises Holdings, Incorporated, Inc. Ltd. All rights reserved, Monday to Friday. This does not affect your statutory rights, not that you know what they are anyway. Your call is-
"Mister, err..." The receptionist trailed off after interrupting his increasingly tangential thoughts. Doesn't know whether to refer to me by name or that of my character, he thought. What he didn't realise in his drunken haze was that she had no idea what he was doing there in the first place. She'd been expecting a interviewee for caretaker, not a drunkard with a moldy, reeking backpack.
"I'd prefer you use my character name," he said, surprising himself with his own clarity. "Helps me stay in the zone."
"Well, it's just-"
A keening squeal distracted them both. The man swivelled around, overbalanced, underbalanced, sideways balanced and struck a pose just in time to see an elf on the run from a crazed midget with a luxurious beard and serious bling.
"I'll teach you to be undecided as to your origin story!" The midget was yelling. He plinked along in his golden mail. Some distance behind them, a woman with half an arm missing was shedding chunks of skin as she shuffled in a vain attempt to keep up.
"Well, it looks like we've already started," the man said, wiping his mouth. "Madam, I will require use of the changing room. If they're already in costume, I have no time to waste!"
"But-"
"Don't worry, I can find it myself," he waved her off, nearly losing his balance again. He tucked it into his pocket, safe in the knowledge it wouldn't escape again. (I'd like to see you pull that one off while sober).
"I can't bear to see you two fight," the woman moaned.
"Bear?" The man's face cracked into a smile. Which reminds me, I need to see a dermatologist. "That's my cue..."

The fight took us above ground to the busy street. I threw my arm over my eyes (it fell off, and I held it by the wrist) to block the hot sunlight. I hoped there weren't too many flies. They tended to find me as tasty as I found brains. Highmiddle Spoons, this deceptively quaint-looking hamlet was the most cosmopolitan center of fashion, industry, and decadent wealth as could be found across the countryside; and at this time of day, the throngs in the marketplace surged.

Emily lingered at the mouth of the cavern, unable to come out into the bright sunlight without bursting into flames. I lingered back to speak to her as Corpus Bane swung his axe at my old friend.

"Oh," I said, my stomach feeling full of worms. Perhaps it was full of worms. Perhaps the flies had gotten a head start. "That interview was a disaster. Corpus Bane must think I'm the silliest zombie in the cemetary."

"It could be worse," Emily said, trying to cheer me up. "You could be interviewing a va..."

I stepped into the muddy street to get a better look at the fight.

I heard it before I saw it, the van careening around the corner, spraying mud on the peasants and their vegetable carts. It plowed a furrow through the cobblestones and dirt as it rocketed straight towards me.

I looked at the van.

Its headlights gave the distinct impression it was looking at me.

I shambled slightly in the direction of safety, but there was no time.

"NOOOOOO!"

Suddenly I flew into the corporate wall with enough impact to scrape some of the flesh off the back of my arms. I fell to the ground. Corpus Bane had thrown himself over me, pushing me out of the path of the incoming vehicle.

Did that just happen? I thought.

Instead, the van swerved to miss him. It plowed through a vegetable stand, flattened several shoppers, fell on its side, and caught fire. The back doors flew open and disgorged several barrels of radioactive waste, which soaked the crowds in an unhealthy-looking green glow. Living and dead alike began to develop a strange, unearthly glass to their eyes.

I sat up, rubbing my skull. I groped around for the skin that had flown free of it. "W-what happened? Why did you do that?"

"I couldn't stand the thought of losing you to the wheels of that monstrous runaway vehicle," Bane said. "I haven't felt such a strong pull towards another person since I was betrayed by..."

His voice trailed off sadly, making me wish my tear ducts were not infected with flesh-eating mites so I might weep for him.

The passenger side of the door opened and the driver jumped out. "Oh, man, I'm sorry! Are you al-ARRRGH!"

The zombified gathered crowds converged upon him and ate his brains and guts before he could finish the sentence. I wondered if I could get some if I hurried, but I couldn't pull myself out of Bane's muscular, rugged embrace.