his chair went Zero, the last vestiges of his selfpreservation instinct 
keeping the door firmly shut against the rattling doorknob and clicking key in 
the lock.
        "Is somebody in there? Hello?"
        Diva's mouth came off his dick and her eyes were wide and full of 
fear. "Oh, Liebchen, did I hurt you? I'm so sorrEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!" He flicked on 
the vibrator again and she convulsed against him. Zero quickly examined the 
damage to Jimi; he was bruised a bit and kind of red at the base, but there 
was no blood, and he was thicker and harder than ever. He let out a windy sigh 
of relief.
        "Peel," he whispered.
        Diva looked up at him and smiled wickedly. One hard tug, and her 
tights were around her knees, exposing her wide, full hips unadorned except 
for the red nylon straps that held the buzzing vibrator over her clitoris.
She turned around and presented her wide, smooth rump to him as he stood up. 
The door seemed almost about to open with his foot removed from it, but it 
slammed shut again as Diva fell against it with her full weight.
        "Who's IN there? Open the damn door!"
        Zero spread her ass cheeks and exposed the luscious, drippy folds of 
her vulva with one hand, slowly increasing power to the vibrator with the 
other. He planted the tip of his dong against her pussy lips, and she mewled 
and thrust back against him, sucking him halfway in with a wet slurp. He 
slammed his hips forward against her, driving himself into her to the hilt as 
he ran the vibrator all the way up the scale.
        The remote dropped to the floor, forgotten, as he grabbed her waist 
and started slamming into her with everything he had. Diva was screaming, 
bucking, going insane from the dual stimulation, and her body slammed against 
the door to the ticket office again and again. Finally, he gushed into her 
with a groan, and she let out one last long wail as the vibrator, its job 
valiantly done, drained its batteries and quietly died.
        For a long minute, they just stood there, him leaning back against the 
cold metal of the cash register, her bent jacknifed at the waist and sobbing 
for breath. He gently withdrew from her, quickly grabbing a spare piece of 
paper to wipe himself and her off before pulling up his pants. She smiled 
weakly at him, leaning against the pounding door as she rolled up her tights. 
He tucked the remote in his pocket, put his arm around her to hide the wire 
while she quickly straightened his hair and her own, and opened the door.
        "Eeeyesss?" Zero smiled pleasantly at the young lady who was standing 
at the door, in front of a small crowd of fascinated onlookers.
        "What the hell were you DOING in there?" The crowd burst out laughing 
at the question, and the girl blushed crimson. Zero suddenly noticed the girl 
who'd seen him through the window, standing with two of her friends at the 
back of the crowd and making it-was-THIS-big-I-SWEAR motions with her hands as 
her friends gaped at her. She looked up, saw him, and blushed even redder than 
the ticket seller. He grinned and held up his hands, shaking his head as if to 
say, No-it's-really-only-THIS-big-dear.
        "Never you mind," Diva laughed, licking Zero's earlobe as she guided 
him toward the coat room. "We were just leaving, anyway."
        "Well, Jesus, would you look at that? Not even an apology, when I'm 
stuck out here trying to lock up and get my--" Behind them, they could hear 
the girl's voice cut off short, and the crinkling noises of wet paper. "MY 
RECEIPTS! OH, GROSS!"
        Zero's eyes met Diva's, and they both burst out laughing. All thoughts 
of further adventure forgotten, they ran hand in hand for the exit.

        "You waited? Oh, you didn't have to do that!" Conan looked up from his 
magazine and smiled as Cricket came out of the Trauma Ward, a compress held up 
to her eye. He stood up and shrugged on his coat, and helped her ease into 
hers.
        "That's okay," he said. "I had to talk to the police when they came 
by, and I didn't want you walking home alone." He opened the door for her into 
the night, and they hustled out into the cold wind, heading for the North 
Habitat.
        "I appreciate your helping me," Cricket said after a few moments of 
silence. "I really thought he was gonna kill me."
        "What were you doing with a creep like that anyway, Cricket? You seem 
like too smart a person to go getting mixed up with someone who'd jump you 
like that...."
        "Huh! So speaks the walking beefcake magazine!" Cricket's voice held a 
trace of a sneer. "What the fuck do you know about getting trapped into doing 
shit you don't want to do, big man? Huh?"
        For a brief, horribly clear instant, Conan thought of Twink. "Too damn 
much," he whispered. "Sorry. Shouldn't have said it."
        "Damn right," Cricket continued angrily. "I've seen you working out in 
the gym, all pumped up and nowhere to go. All the girls looking at you and 
talking about you...."
        "No shit, really?" Conan grinned widely. Now THAT was an interesting 
revelation!
        "Yeah, really! And d'you know what they're saying?" Cricket paused for 
emphasis. "They're LAUGHING at you, you stupid motherfucker!"
        "What!" He looked down at her in shock. "WHY?"
        "Because you're so fucking narcissistic it's enough to make them puke, 
that's why! It's so obvious, watching you pose in the mirror. The love affair 
between Conan and Conan will go down in history!" She shook her head and fell 
silent. Conan looked supremely uncomfortable in the silence that followed.
        "I wish they could've seen you tonight, though," Cricket whispered.
        "Oh, shit, that wasn't anything," Conan said with a shrug. "He 
couldn't have hurt me if he'd tried."
        "Yes he could've," Cricket said tartly. "It doesn't take a big man to 
carry a gun of a knife, Conan. You could've been killed! You didn't know what 
you were charging into-- you just did what you thought was right, without 
hesitation. He would've broken my nose if you'd hesitated before coming in 
after him. Or worse." She smiled up at him. "You know what your problem is?"
        "Yeah," Conan muttered. "I'm a narcissistic scumbag."
        "No, besides that," Cricket chided with a smile. 
        Conan stopped and looked at her for a moment, unsmiling. "No, I don't 
know what my problem is," he said. "Why don't you tell me?"
        Cricket reached up and gently touched Conan on the tip of the nose.
"Your problem," she said softly, "Is that you don't really know where your 
strengths and weaknesses are. You're not impressing anyone when you squat a 
quarter ton or whatever, but you can bet that you'll get a lot more respect 
from the women in the aerobics class when they hear how you saved my ass 
tonight! You're no mean, macho hunk. You're just a decent human being."
        "Oh, really," he said with a wry look.
        "Yeah, really," she replied, starting to walk again. The doors to the 
North Habitat loomed out of the darkness before them, and Cricket fumbled in 
her pocket for her security card with one hand while trying to hold her 
compress in place with the other. "Oh, damn it!"
        "Here, lemme help you," Conan said quickly, gently placing a hand over 
hers on the compress. She looked up at him with her good eye for a long moment 
before drawing her hand out from under his and fumbling for her card. She got 
it out, and got the door open by feel as he held the compress steady.
        "Thanks." She pocketed her card and put her warm little hand over his, 
taking the compress from him. She smiled up at him in the doorway. "For 
everything."
        "No problem," Conan grinned. He shivered in the wind, and said, "Well, 
I guess I better be getting back. It was nice meeting you, Cricket."
        "Wanna come in and warm up for a while?" 
        He looked at her long and hard, then shook his head. "I better not."
        "Oh, stop looking like a kicked dog and get in here, you moron!" 
Cricket grabbed him with her free hand and dragged him inside. The door shut 
with a clang behind him, and the night was still once more.

        The Bandit awoke with a start, half sitting up in the darkness. His 
eyes were utterly unaccustomed to the gloom, but he could feel rather than see 
the warm presence in his bed. There was a quiet whisper in the dark.
        "Oh, I'm sorry, love, I didn't mean to wake you...."
        "That's okay, that's okay." The Bandit settled back down onto the bed 
and ran his hands down the amazing curve of Twink's broad back. She hummed in 
delight and burrowed closer to him, warm in the cold night.
        "This is really wonderful," she breathed. "It's so cozy."
        "Yeah," the Bandit said. "Cozy." He suddenly realized what had 
awakened him: her hand on his penis, warm and soft, gently stroking him closer 
and closer to orgasm. He was almost ready to pop. "Y'know, if you keep playing 
with me like you are, I'm gonna come all over you," he whispered.
        "Oh, really?" Her giggle was low and almost liquid in the night. "Is 
that so bad? I like to make you feel good...." Her inexpert hand stroked him 
more roughly and insistently now, and she crawled up until her lips were level 
with his, kissing him as she squeezed his penis and pumped it in her fist. 
        "You like?" Her mock Spanish accent was somehow fairly effective, he 
noted in a haze of mixed sleepiness and horniness.
        "Si, I like," he replied, and she giggled again. "But there are other 
things I like, too, and if you're not going to let me sleep we may as well 
enjoy them...."
        "Oh! Well, what did you have in mind?"
        He grinned in the darkness. "Ever been eaten out before?"
        "Uh, I don't think so," she said uncertainly. "What is it, exactly?"
        "What, being eaten out?" The Bandit paused, at a loss. "It's when I, 
well, uh....Tell you what. Let go of me and I'll demonstrate, okay?"
        "Okay." Her fist released his penis, and he immediately rolled her 
over onto her back and began kissing his way down her body, pausing for a few 
luxuriant sucks at her huge nipples before making his way down lower. "Ohhhh," 
she moaned as he squeezed her breasts, "That feels so GOOD!"
        "If you like that," the Bandit said, "You'll love what comes next!" 
His tongue flicked out and began to touch and probe beneath her pubic hair, 
and she gasped in surprise.
        "Ooh! Careful, that tickles! Bandit, you can't really want to lick 
down THERE, I mean isn't it sort of--" Her breath caught in her throat. She 
took a deep breath and tried again. "It's not too--" Her voice died again. 
When she finally spoke, it was in a different tone altogether.
        "Oh, please don't stop...."
        "Mmmmmmm," the Bandit replied, his tongue teasing her rapidly-swelling 
clitoris gently. There was no question but that she was primed and ready for 
his attentions; her pussy lips, neat and symmetric, were oozing moisture, and 
her clit was stiff and turgid. He licked and sucked on it, and drove his 
tongue between her outer lips to caress the entrance to her cunt. Back and 
forth, back and forth between them, listening all the while to her nonstop 
commentary.
        "Oh! Oh! That feels heavenly! Don't stop, PLEASE don't stop! It feels 
like I'm burning up, I'm hot and cold, I'm shaking all over, Oh gentle Jesus,
OH! OH! What is that you're licking? More! More, oh, yes, oh, God, I--Bandit! 
BANDIT! I FEEL FUNNY! I FEEL, I FEEL LIKE I'M GONNA--EEEEEEEEEEEEEK!"
        Her body arched off the bed from heels to head and he rode her like a 
cowboy rides a bucking bronco, his tongue never leaving her sopping vulva. She 
moaned, shrieked, and gasped, her clutching hands buried in his mop of long 
dark hair, holding him in place as she spent and spent.
        Finally, he let go of her, and she collapsed sobbing onto the bed, her 
body soaked in a thick film of sweat. "Oh, God, oh, God, I love you, oh, 
Bandit, that was so, so BEAUTIFUL!" He crawled back up to join her and hugged 
her hard, and she buried her face in his hair and cried.
        "Sweetheart, don't cry, it's okay. Shhhh, don't cry," the Bandit 
soothed her, stroking her long hair. "Please don't cry...."
        "Can't, hic, I cuh-cuh-can't HELP it," Twink sobbed gustily. "It was 
so, suh-suh-so BEAUTIFUL, I cuh-c-c-can't help crying, uh, oh, I LOVE you!"
She cried even harder, and the Bandit didn't know what else to do but to hold 
her close and rock her gently until her sobs gradually died away and she 
relaxed against him, kissing his neck. "Oh thank you, thank you...."
        "Uh, you're welcome," the Bandit said uncomfortably. "Are you sure 
you're all right? I mean, I've never had anyone start crying on me before."
        "Oh, I'm feeling wonderful," Twink sighed, grabbing a fistful of 
toilet paper from the roll the Bandit kept by the bed and blowing her nose 
with a honk. "I couldn't help it, it felt so good I just had to cry. Was, was
that an orgasm?" 
        "Uh, I think so," the Bandit said soothingly, smiling despite himself. 
"If it wasn't, when you finally have one it'll probably kill you!"
        "Mmmmm, but what a way to die!" Twink laughed and ran her hand back 
down his chest to his penis, which was just as stiff as ever. "My turn to make 
you feel good, now," she breathed, sliding down his body and kissing his chest 
as he'd kissed hers.
        The Bandit suddenly recalled what she'd said about Conan. "Uh, Twink, 
are you sure you want to do that? There are other ways...."
        "Mmmmm, shut up, Bandit," came her voice from somewhere under the 
covers. "I love you, and I want to make you feel as good as I do...." The 
Bandit's whole body tensed as a long, wet tongue licked its way down the 
underside of his penis and gently kissed his balls, then travelled back up to 
the head. "You like?"
        "Uh, uh-huh," he managed.
        "Oh, good," she replied, "Because I don't feel like stopping! It 
tastes so gooommmmbbllmmmmph......" The Bandit began thrusting his hips up off 
the bed as her moist, warm mouth enveloped him and gently sucked him in. She 
teased him with tiny nips and rolled her tongue obscenely over the head of his 
penis as if trying to lick a lollipop to death in under three minutes. As 
excited as he was, it was no time at all before the Bandit was feeling himself 
tense up under an impending orgasm. 
        Twink, feeling him tense, stopped her labors for a moment. "Are you 
all right? Am I hurting you?"
        "Oh, God, DON'T STOP NOW, I'M COMING!" 
        "Oops! Sorry! Glmmmmm....MMMM! MMMM! MMMMMM! Mmmmmmmmmmm...."
        "UH! UNGH! UH! UH! OH! UH! Uhhhhhhhhhhh...."
        Twink swallowed and swallowed again, downing every drop of hot, thick 
semen he gave her. She got up on her hands and knees and looked up at him, 
licking the last bits of sticky come from her lips. "How was that?"
        "Oh, god," the Bandit moaned. "I'm dying...."
        Twink laughed lightly and snuggled up next to him, kissing him deeply.
The mixture of sweat, pussy juice and semen in the kiss was indescribable. The 
Bandit broke the kiss, and muttered, "So much for a night without doing 
anything...."
        "I don't mind a bit," Twink said, yawning. "I'm so sleepy all of a 
sudden...."
        "S'okay, me too," the Bandit mumbled. "Sleep well."
        "Mm-hmmm...."

        "Shhh," Zero whispered as he opened the door to his room slightly. "I 
just need to get fresh clothes, and I don't want to wake anyone up." 
        "Okay," Diva said softly, tiptoeing into the living room with him. The 
door to Conan and the Wiz's room was ajar, and Conan was stretched out on his 
bed under the covers, snoring like a steam engine. 
        "Him, we won't waken," Zero laughed, shutting the door. "But the 
Bandit's a light sleeper, so...."
        He eased the door to the bedroom he shared with the Bandit, and both 
he and Diva simultaneously smelled the familiar odor of sex. Zero peeked 
inside. The first thing he saw was the rumpled blue nightgown on the floor.
Diva gasped; the first thing she saw was Twink's gorgeous back, half uncovered
by the blankets.
        Zero looked at Diva. Diva looked at Zero. Their astonishment was 
comical. Quickly Zero reached into his closet and grabbed fresh clothes, and 
they backed out of the room and shut the door. 
        "That was TWINK in there with him, wasn't it?"
        "Hard to say, I've never seen Twink naked before."
        "Oh, come on, I'm serious! The BANDIT, and TWINK?"
        "Hey, she's been gunning for him for months, and I have to admit that 
what I saw didn't look too bad...."
        "That's enough of that, mister," Diva said sharply. "You're spoken 
for already."
        "No problem," Zero said amiably. "Just commenting, that's all."
        The outer door closed, cutting off their voices. The Bandit smiled, 
his eyes still shut, and drifted back to sleep.

        The breakfast table was abuzz with conversation when the Bandit came 
out of the hot food line with his tray in his hand. He'd sent Twink off to 
shower and dress with a kiss, and had promised to meet her at the breakfast 
table, but she wasn't there yet. Zero, Diva, Conan, Bone, Thud, Plaids, and
a young blonde girl he'd never seen before were sitting at the table. When 
they saw the Bandit, there was an uncomfortable pause, conversation dying down 
as the Bandit set his tray down.
        "What's everyone looking at me for," he asked pleasantly.
        Conan looked at him with a big grin, and waggled a finger at him. "Na, 
na ne NA na! Na, na ne NA na!" Pretty soon the whole table was doing it, and 
the Bandit just sat down, shaking his head and grinning.
        "So how was she?"
        "Getting a bit desperate, are we?"
        "Any port in a storm, I guess...."
        "Yes, but is she 'port'?"
        "All right, ALL RIGHT!" The Bandit waved them all to silence. "I have 
only this to say. It was not an act of desperation. Okay?"
        The laughter redoubled at that. "Prove it," Thud said mildly.
        "Okay, I will," the Bandit said with a smile. Keep your promise, 
Twink, he thought to himself. Don't wimp out on me, please? It's a stupid 
thing to have to do, but it'll make my life so much easier....
        "How?" Bone challenged.
        "Well, it's easy enough, when--Ah, hello, sweetheart!" The Bandit 
stood up and pulled up a chair beside him for Twink as she entered the room. 
Conversation died. 
        Thud's eyebrows went north for the winter. Conan's jaw hit his tray, 
and Cricket elbowed him in the ribs. Bone's eyes nearly popped out of his 
head, and Plaids nervously took off his glasses and began to polish them 
furiously. Twink had told the Bandit that she'd owned one set of clothes that 
he'd probably consider "sexy," and had agreed to his request that she wear 
them to breakfast. And sexy she was, in a clinging silk jumpsuit that was 
unzipped halfway to her waist. She'd foregone the bra for the meal, too.
        "Good morning, love," she said huskily, slipping into the Bandit's 
arms and doing her best Diva-kissing-Zero imitation. She then sat down beside 
him, and said with a bright smile, "Happy Valentine's Day, everyone!"
        "Uh, Twink, that's, uh, that's quite an outfit you've got there," 
Conan ventured. Cricket looked over at him, one eyebrow raised.
        The Bandit had coached Twink on that eventuality, though; she didn't 
even look up. "Eat your heart out, thumbdick," she said, opening her napkin.
        Cricket almost spat up her milk laughing. "You, I like," she said with 
a grin. "I'm Cricket. You must be Twink!"
        "The one and only," Twink replied. "What happened to your eye?"
        "Well, I--"
        "HEY! HEY, EVERYONE! LISTEN!"
        All heads turned about as Lanky came running in, obviously in a panic.
The Bandit stood up and made shushing motions with both hands. "Take it easy, 
Lank. What's the matter?"
        "It's Livewire." Lanky's face was ashen. "The police came and took him 
away last night. It looked like they'd beaten him half to death."

                        PART 5: All good things

Early March 1982

        "Oh, I don't believe this! What the hell kind of bullshit are they 
shovelling here?" The Bandit threw down the newspaper disgustedly and kicked 
it into the corner with a curse. "Goddamned pseudo-juornalistic shits!"
        He punched his data card into the debit monitor as if he'd been 
punching the Arcadian's editor, and grabbed a tray from the stack at the head 
of the heaterstack line as if he were grabbing her by the throat. His scowl 
did its duty; the other students at the dinner table kept their conversations 
to themselves, and nobody tried to talk to him. The empty dining hall was 
spotlessly clean, and the only sound was the rumble of the gathering crowd 
outside the double doors.
        Finishing his dinner with the haste of the enraged, he picked up his
tray and carried it back to the kitchen, throwing it on the dumper while he
fired up the Stendorf and got it heating. Stork looked him over dubiously as
he came around to the uniform drawer, and silently held out a folded apron.
The Bandit snatched it with a growl and tossed it over his head, tying it on
as he went to retrieve a pair of rubber gloves from the glove box. 
        "Um, Bandit?" As always, Stork's voice was deep and quiet, a boom that 
went well with his nearly two meters of height.
        "What?" The Bandit hissed in pain as a blast of scalding steam hit 
him in the face, gusting out of the Stendorf's gaping maw.
        "This is a disgusting job. Don't make it even less pleasant for us. 
Please?"
        The Bandit glared at him for a long moment, then sighed, somewhat 
deflated. "Okay, okay," he muttered. "Sorry. I'm just not in the best of moods 
tonight, that's all."
        "Obviously not," Stork agreed, tying on his own apron. "At the risk of 
sounding like the Wiz, d'you want to talk about it?"
        "No," the Bandit snapped. "There's nothing to talk about. I'm just 
overreacting, I guess. But God damn it, you'd think the idiots who ran the 
Arcadian would be a little more careful about getting their facts straight!"
        "Oh, is that all?" Stork sighed. "You KNOW they make it all up, 
Bandit. Simmer down, okay?"
        "Yeah, yeah, all right. HEY, FASTBACK! COME ON, LET'S GET STARTED!"
        "Coming, coming, coming," Fastback drawled, tying on his apron as he 
sauntered back to the Stendorf station. "Anon, anon. Okay, who's on what?"
        "Um, I had Stendorf duty last night, so I'm on tray-dump tonight," 
Stork volunteered.
        "So that means I have Stendorf duty tonight, ay okay," Fastback 
nodded, taking up a position by the back end of the huge, puffing machine. 
        "And I'm in the sink," the Bandit nodded. "Okay, here we go, people!
Hup, two!" The first stack of used dinner trays came rattling back into the 
kitchen, pushed awkwardly by a young student server/clearer, and the familiar 
rhythm kicked into gear: trays emptied and cleared into the trashvat by the 
Stork, slid over to the Bandit for a quick scrub, and into the Stendorf and 
out the other side, clean and sterile, for Fastback to put away. Two hundred 
trays an hour, six nights a week, the Bandit thought grimly. Well, it pays the 
bills.
        The temperature in the stuffy kitchen gradually climbed into the 
nineties as the Stendorf's steam mingled with the air. The Bandit wiped a 
forearm across his sweaty brow and dove back into the sink full of boiling 
water, dishes rattling in his hands as he cleaned and stacked them.
        "Window!"
        "Window? Ay okay! Bandit! Window?"
        "Uh, window! Yeah, sure, I got it," the Bandit puffed, reaching across 
the Stendorf's entry gate to the window and throwing it wide open. The night 
was cold, but the breeze was pure heaven in the cramped kitchen.
        "Ahhhhh, I'm alive again. Thanks, Bandit!"
        "No problem, Stork ole pal," the Bandit said with a fleeting smile. 
"Hey, are you boys up to loaning your old pal Bandit a tonsil or two?"
        "Bass on line," Stork grinned.
        "Baritone on line," Fastback grinned. "What'll we sing?"
        "How about some Elvis," Bandit suggested.
        "Aaaaaalissooooooon, Mah aim is troooooo," Stork wailed.
        "Wrong Elvis, you foon!" The Bandit laughed in the gouts of steam. 
"You know I can be found--sitting all alone-- you ran off and left me babe,
and now I'm on my own--"

        "Don't be cruel (dooooowah)
        To a heart that's true (ooooooooo)
        Don't be cruel (doooooowah)
        To a heart that's true (ahhhhhhh)
        I don't need no other love,
        Darling, it's just you I'm--"

        "THINKIN' OF," Stork boomed. The next two stanzas went by in a flash, 
with Fastback and Stork bop-bopping behind the Bandit, and at the end of the 
song, the trio were startled by the sound of applause from outside the window. 
        Squinting through the steam and out into the night, the Bandit could 
just make out the figures of some people standing under the window. Waving the 
steam away, he suddenly realized that they were girls, Lovepilers from the 
look of them. "Pussy alert," he hissed, sotto voce, smiling and waving out the 
window at them. They giggled and returned the wave.
        "Right," Stork whispered. He cleared his throat. "Don' know why, 
there's no clouds up in the sky--"
        "STORMY WEATHER," Fastback and the Bandit crooned theatrically, and 
the three dishwashing serenaders mugged their way through that and a couple 
of other songs before the girls waved cheery goodbyes and headed off down the 
road that led past the Roach Motel.
        The Bandit's eyes popped as he saw them walk across the East Quad, 
right past the turnoff for the Lovepile, and up the steps of the Virgin Vault. 
"Hey, those babes were V.V.'s! What the hell were they doing risking their 
reps by listening to us?"
        "Can't get pregnant from singing," Fastback grinned, heaving the 
umpteenth rack of clean dishes out of the Stendorf.
        "No, but we all know where shameless revelry can lead," Stork retorted 
with a smile. "Hey, guess what? This is the last tray!"
        "And there was much rejoicing," the Bandit sighed.
        "Yayyyy," Fastback deadpanned, reaching for another dish rack.

        "Hey there hi there ho there," the Bandit called, charging into the 
lounge. Thud waved, not looking up from his cards. Lanky managed a wave, as 
did Mimosa, who was studying her hand intensely and ordering and reordering 
the cards again and again. 
        "Greetings, Bandit!" That particular bellow was Thunder's; the 
training of a New England professor and the manners of a coal miner. "And have 
you robbed from the rich to give to the poor tonight?"
        "By all means," the Bandit grinned, emptying his coat pockets onto the 
coffee table. A small pile of chocolates and mints, given out to students who 
ate at the Roach Motel and normally unavailable at Scum Central, was soon 
divided up and passed around, the Bandit saving a couple for his own use.
        "Ah, a gentleman and a scholar," Thunder smiled, running a hand over 
his bristling beard as he popped a mint into his mouth. "My thanks, sir."
        "The pleasure, as always, is mine," the Bandit replied with a bow.
        "Hey, Bandit," Conan said, getting up from the couch where he'd been 
napping, "Did you read the paper tonight?"
        The Bandit's smile vanished. "Yeah," he growled. "Those miserable 
shits. I'd like to stuff a boot up their butts."
        "Well, now, let's back off and look at this thing objectively," Thud 
said carefully. "They didn't mention his name, and they left out the details 
that might have upset the student body. After all, what good would it do to 
tell the truth?"
        "It never hurts to tell the truth," the Bandit said. He picked up a 
paper from where someone had left it, and flipped it open. "No mention of the 
misidentification! Nothing about what had really happened! 'Disturbed,' it
says. 'Disturbed'!" He tossed the paper away in disgust. "What the hell does
that mean?" 
        "It means that he was disturbed," Thunder offered without a smile. 
"Although I daresay the police were somewhat more disturbed...."
        "That's the truth," the Bandit smiled. The smile, though, flickered 
and was gone after a moment. "I'm gonna miss him."
        "So are we all, Bandit," Thud nodded. "So are we all."
        The Bandit listlessly picked up the paper from where he'd thrown it on 
the floor, and read through the article one more time.

        ARCADIA STUDENT ACQUITTED OF ASSAULT CHARGES; WON'T RETURN

        The criminal court of Wright County today dismissed charges against 
the Arcadia student who singlehandedly assaulted and beat the entire campus 
security squad on 14 February, at the request of the Office of the College 
Chancellor.
        The student had left a Valentine's Day party in a state of extreme 
inebriation after behaving disruptively and yelling threats against a female 
Arcadia student with whom he was believed to be having relationship troubles. 
Security was called to the scene to escort the student home, but he became 
violent when approached and injured the two Security officers who attempted to 
restrain him. The student fled to the Student Union, where he was apprehended 
and taken to the County Jail by the remainder of the Campus Security Squad and 
two Arcadia Police officers, both of whom were treated and released from 
Wright Memorial for minor bruises. He was released on bond the following day, 
and taken home by his family.
        The charges of aggravated assault were thrown out for reasons not 
revealed to the Arcadian's reporters. However, the student, whom the 
Psychological Service has characterized as "disturbed," has refused to return 
to Arcadia to complete his course of study, citing police brutality.

        "They didn't show him their badges," The Bandit muttered, wadding the 
paper up in his fists. "He was drunk, for shit's sake! He thought they were 
mugging him! What the hell would you have done if two big guys came out of 
nowhere and grabbed you while you were walking home?"
        "That's probably why they let him go, Bandit," Thunder said quietly. 
"And it's probably why the College had the Court dismiss charges. It wouldn't
look good for them to admit that their Security staff weren't well-trained
enough to identify themselves before attempting to manhandle a student...." 
        The Bandit tossed the paper into a nearby wastebasket. 
        "Goodbye, Livewire," he said softly to himself, and stalked off toward 
his room.

        Mary Magdalene sat under the paper sky on her bed, staring at a point 
on the wall a few inches to the left of the desk in her room. Princess whined, 
obviously upset at her mistress's state of mind, and nosed her head under a 
limp hand, trying to encourage a pat.
        Mary Magdalene looked down at the small brown-and-white dog at her 
right hand. Then, slowly, almost unwillingly, she turned her gaze to the bed
by her left hand. There upon the rumpled bedclothes, lay the letter, half open
upon the envelope and the bits of scarlet wax from the seal. She picked it up
and began to read it for the thousandth, two thousandth time. 

        My beloved Mary:

        It pains me to write this, for I can imagine some measure of the pain 
that this letter will bring you. Do not fault me for lack of courage; I wish 
to present my case before you in full, without interruptions, and the only way 
that I know how to do this is in writing. By now I am certain that you have 
guessed what I am about to say....

        She let the letter fall from her fingers, and looked back down at the 
bed. Her picking up the letter had exposed the envelope, and one more thing 
that had lain beside her for nearly a month now. It glittered as she picked it 
up, sharp edges gleaming in the candlelight. She looked at the reflection of 
her eyes in the burnished steel, eyes waxy with lack of sleep, eyes dry 
because there were simply no more tears to be shed.
        She held up a pale, cold wrist, and touched the edge of the knife to 
it. A lengthwise cut, she recalled; that was the best way to do it, so it 
couldn't clot shut after you passed out....
        For a long time, she sat unmoving, staring at the knife. Princess 
jumped to her feet and ran barking from the room, ears perked for the trespass 
of a neighborhood cat or some such. Mary Magdalene barely noticed that she was 
gone. The candle flickered--
        "Do it."
        She jerked about, startled, the knife dropping from her hands.
        "Do it. Save us all the trouble, you pathetic bitch."
        The Bandit's eyes were unreadable in the candlelight. He stood in the 
doorway, one hand idly ruffling a shaggy ear as Princess stood on her hind 
legs and chewed on the tails of his jacket.
        "That's the easy way out. You know it. So does he. He's counting on 
you to do it. You'll be out of his hair for good, and that's what he wants."
        Mary Magdalene's lips parted, her voice a desert-dry whisper.
        "My life for him....I gave him my life...."
        "No, you didn't. You gave him three years, and now you see what it got 
you in the end. Don't make his victory complete, Marymag!" The Bandit squatted 
down beside her on the hardwood floor, holding Princess with one strong hand.
"He sucked the life out of you to stay alive, and he sucked the sanity out of 
you so he could always have someone around to practise with. Now he's got 
someone else to practise with, so why throw your life away? It's yours again, 
for the first time in years."
        "Why her?" The whisper held the agony of damnation. "Why her?"
        "She's better in bed than you are, from what I understand," the Bandit 
said callously. "She's got nicer tits than you do, she's got better hips, and 
she's better on the guitar. But most important of all, she's crazier than 
you'll ever be, and he needs that most of all." He smiled, a satanic smile in 
the firelight. "He needs a nice, psychotic girlfriend that he can fuck at 
night and headshrink by day, to keep himself in trim. And you're out of a job, 
seems like. So why not join the rest of us out here in the real world? It's 
not too bad, once you get to know it...."
        "You have friends, MaryMag. They care about you, and they don't want 
to see you any more hurt than you already are. He did the hurting, up until 
now. Any hurting that happens from now on, though, is hurting that YOU do to 
YOURSELF. Don't be selfdestructive! If you die, we'll all mourn your passing. 
Even he will, I expect. But in time, a year, ten years, you'll be forgotten, 
moldering away under the ground while we get on with our lives! What kind of 
revenge is that?"
        She looked away from him, down at the knife. She picked it up, gripped 
it convulsively in her fist, stared at it.
        "There is only one revenge, Mary Magdalene. To dance on your enemy's 
grave. And you can't do that if you go to the grave first. 
        "Give me the knife."
        Mary Magdalene looked over at him, her eyes bleak.
        "Please?"
        Slowly, she handed the weapon to her. He took it gingerly by the 
blade, looked around the room, and suddenly whipped his hand forward in a 
blur. There was a meaty thunk of steel hitting wood, and Mary Magdalene tunred 
to see an old photograph of her and the Rainbow Wizard, pinned to the wall by 
the knife blade through the Rainbow Wizard's face.
        She smiled shakily. "Can you teach me to do that?"
        He returned the smile. "Not if you're dead, kid."
        Mary Magdalene laughed, her first real laugh in weeks. "Great!"
        Princess barked and ran to her, and she picked up the tiny, squirming 
life and hugged it tightly to her, her eyes moist.
        "C'mon, we're getting a group together to go get ice cream. You oughta 
get to know your friends again!" The Bandit helped her to her feet, and stood 
back awkwardly from her. She was exactly his height in her bare feet, and this 
was the closest they'd ever been to one another without the Wiz around. She 
looked into his eyes, a hint of her old fire beginning to smolder there once 
more, and gave him a quick, hard hug.
        "Thank you," she whispered.

Late March 1982

        Spring Break was over, and the crowds of students were settling back 
into the swing of things, crowded about the lounge and chatting about their 
vacations or watching television. There were the usual faces, and some other 
students who weren't normal lounge types; a pair of jockettes from the Swim 
Team wing getting ready to go out and hit the bars, a punk in a three-button 
sack suit and string tie sitting and looking bored at the world from behind 
his silvered wrapround shades. Conan surveyed each and every face as it went 
by, saying hello to those he knew.
        "Is the Bandit back yet?"
        "I think so. Hey, Lanky, YOU were the last person to see him; is he 
coming back today?"
        Lanky tucked a long string of greasy black hair behind his ear 
nervously and scratched at his straggly beard. "Yes, he is," he said, but I 
haven't seen him, either."
        "How was your visit with his family? Did everything go okay?"
        "Oh, yeah, everything went fine," Lanky said, looking around him with 
a bit of agitation. "His parents are wonderful people, and I must admit they 
certainly aren't to blame for his being so skinny!"
        "Oh, yeah!" Thud grinned, nodding. "His mom can cook like nobody I've 
ever seen. I'll never forget last Thanksgiving, boy...."
        "Hi, everyone," Flower said, skipping up and giving the Rainbow Wizard 
a quick kiss. Mary Magdalene, sitting nearby, didn't even flinch. "Hope 
everyone had a nice vacation!"
        "You bet," Conan grinned. "Had the whole gym to myself!"
        "Oh, please," Cricket sighed, settling against him more comfortably.
        Mary Magdalene was only half following the conversation. The punk on 
the couch was staring at her, his face an utter blank behind his shades. He 
was robotlike, utterly expressionless, yet there was something about him....
        "OH, MY GOD!"
        Everyone practically leaped out of his skin at Mary Magdalene's 
shriek. A dozen pairs of eyes looked curiously at her, but she could only 
point wordlessly at the punk sitting near the circle of friends and make 
strangled noises. 
        "It's--HE'S--"
        The punk, obviously annoyed at such attention, raised a sneering 
eyebrow...a thick, scowling eyebrow that could only belong to one person.
        "BANDIT!"
        The familiar grin broke out on the smooth-shaven face as the shades 
came off to reveal the dark eyes. Instantly there was pandemonium as the 
Bandit was surrounded by people laughing, running hands through his new
buzzcut, and fingering the material of his suit.
        "I don't believe it!"
        "Yeah, ain't I something?"
        "Where'd you get the suit?"
        "It was one of my dad's. Ain't it the most?"
        "My GOD, your HAIR!"
        "Let's just say I got tired of being mistaken for Lanky...."
        "Lanky! You knew all the time!"
        "He did it before I arrived, it was a shock to me, too!"
        "Hey, you have a chin!"
        "Oh, gee, thanks! Listen, people, I need you all to keep this quiet 
until Twink sees me, okay?" The nods of agreement were mixed with wicked 
grins, all around.
        "Here she comes!"
        Instantly the shades were on and the eyebrows were tucked away. People 
resumed their conversations with some effort, stifling an occasional snicker 
as Twink came bouncing up to greet them. 
        "Happy end of vacation, everybody! Has anyone seen Bandit?"
        "Um, h-he's around," Conan said with a shushed giggle. Twink looked 
around at the others, then sat down uncertainly next to the punk, who politely 
moved aside for her. 
        "So how was everyone's--" Twink stopped. The punk had moved closer to 
her, seemingly nonchalantly. She moved a bit away from him, and said, "How 
was--" He moved closer to her, and she found herself running out of couch. 
"How--" He shifted even closer, his thigh brushing hers. Lanky made a gagging 
noise and quietly fell on the floor. Mary Magdalene had a knuckle stuck in her 
mouth and was chewing on it to keep from laughing. "What's so--" Twink 
whirled to glare at the punk, whose hand had just brushed her thigh. Her glare 
turned to a puzzled stare as she regarded him closely for the first time, and 
then a disbelieving smile broke out on her face.
        "Hey!" She reached out and plucked off his shades, and began to laugh 
with the others as she recognized him, throwing her arms around him.
        "You're unbelievable!" She sighed and rested her chin on his shoulder 
as he returned the embrace, her eyes closed. But his eyes weren't closed, and
nobody noticed that his smile was for Mary Magdalene. 

Late April 1982

        "What's the matter, love?" Twink looked across the table at the 
Bandit, her eyes concerned. "You've been really quiet lately. That isn't like 
you."
        I'm leaving you, Twink. Forgive me.
        The Bandit picked at his dessert, eyes downcast. "Nothing," he 
whispered. "I'm just worried about finals, that's all."
        "No, you're not," Twink said matter-of-factly. "You never worry about 
finals until Reading Period, and sometimes not even then. Why won't you tell 
me what's wrong?"
        Because I feel like a shit sandwich and I don't want to see you cry.
        "It's hard, it's just hard to put into words. I--"
        Her eyes were wide and bright with tears. "You want to call off our 
relationship, don't you?"
        Oh, God. NOW she picks to be observant. Why me, God?
        "I, I...." He sighed and threw down his fork. "It's not your fault, 
okay? It's not you at all. It's me. I'm just not, I'm not really giving you 
what you deserve from a relationship, and I don't think I can. It's funny; in 
a way, you're TOO good to me, Twink."
        "I love you," she said simply. "How else can I be?"
        "Aw, Jesus!" He buried his face in his hands. "You're not making this 
very easy, y'know!"
        "I don't want it to be easy. I don't want it to happen at all!" Twink 
got up, grabbing her tray, and strode out of the lunchroom, the Bandit quickly 
following behind her. She was out in the rainy street and pulling on her coat 
before he'd had a chance to get rid of his tray, and it took him some running 
to catch up with her.
        "Twink, please...."
        "No, don't ask me to understand! I don't want to understand, just go 
away and let me be!"
        "NO!" He grabbed her roughly by the arm, and spun her around, looking 
into the tear-filled blue eyes. "I'm not going to cast you aside like an old 
shoe, dammit! You were my friend before you were my girlfriend, and if you 
aren't still my friend then everything we had was for NOTHING!"
        She blinked at him. "You really mean that, don't you?"
        "Of course!" And I really do, too, which makes it easier to say. Lying 
to you is like kicking a cripple, Twink; I don't like to do it because there's 
no challenge in it. "We'll always be friends, I hope. You should always feel 
that you can confide in me, that you can come to me with your troubles, that 
you have me to care about you. Will losing me in your bed be such a terrible 
loss? We've had wonderful times together, and I hope that we'll have more! 
Just...not that way. Does any of that make sense?"
        She nodded, her eyes very wide. "Yes," she whispered.
        "Well, good." He smiled, a sad smile. "Let me walk you home?"
        "Sure." He put an arm around her and held her tight as they crossed 
the Eastern Quad, up the stairs and in the door. He walked her through the 
lounge and up the stairs to her room in silence.
        She unlocked the door, opened it, then paused, turning to face the 
Bandit. "Can I say something?"
        "Always...."
        "You're my best friend, Bandit." She ducked her head shyly. "I thought 
you should know that."
        A tear rolled down the Bandit's face, vanishing in the stubble on his 
cheek. "That means a lot, Twink. YOU mean a lot. Don't ever forget that."
        "I won't." She reached up and kissed him, tenderly, one last time. 
Then she turned and walked through the door. 
        "Bandit?" She didn't turn around.
        "Yes?"
        "Be good to Mary Magdalene...."
        The door shut quietly.

        Mary Magdalene was sitting on the beanbag chair in the Bandit's living 
room, reading one of Conan's comic books, when the Bandit came in. He smiled 
thoughtfully at her, and she returned the smile. Well, I'm now girlfriendless, 
the Bandit thought wearily. If I end up alone for the rest of this year, it's 
my own damn fault.
        "How are you doing, Bandit?"
        He forced casualness into his voice. "Oh, I can't complain, I guess. 
Twink and I have called it quits for the time being...."
        "Really?" She sat up, the comic book forgotten. "Oh, Bandit, I'm so 
sorry! What happened?"
        "Oh, nothing to get upset about. We needed to give each other a little 
more room to grow, that's all. We aren't mad at each other or anything...."