My death was not an easy one. I was being lowered down the old courtyard well, feet first, strapped into a basket used for transporting the injured by helicopter. It was November. I was already shivering, and the bottom of the basket wasn't even touching the water yet.

In my left hand were two coins, to pay the ferryman's fee across the river into the netherworld. I had insisted on surgical tape to bind them to me, despite the fact that neither the coins nor I would be making the journey physically. If I knew I dropped them, once I was in the next world, I wouldn't have them. In my right hand, secured by more tape, was what remained of the real Rohnert Talisman.

I only had enough money for a one-way ticket. If I were coming back, it was going to have to be by another route…

Above me, the winch wound down another ten centimeters, and I finally heard the rime of ice over the water crackle as the metal basket frame touched it. I looked up, for a last glimpse of the sky I might never see again.

I wanted to shout for Boris to winch me up again. The chances were that Doom would get out of Hades without my help, one way or another, eventually. I didn't want to do this. I didn't want to die. This was an insane idea.

Sometimes I'm too smart for my own good.

There were other ways I could have committed suicide, of course, and almost all of them would have been less painful—but there was none I had a better chance of surviving without brain damage. I hoped.

The ice suddenly shattered, and my shoes began to fill up with icy water. It was a doorway back to childhood: I remembered playing in the slush and snowmelt, in the street in front of my grandmother's house. Sooner or later, the cold would seep into my boots. I could almost taste snow, smell the coal furnace, hear my grandmother calling me…

Then the winch spun out another ten centimeters, and the water was up to my calves, the splinters of ice bobbing and scraping my shins. Suddenly it was acutely painful. I ached with the cold. I could feel every separate bone. It felt as I imagined being old would be like, when everything hurt and nothing worked.

Another ten centimeters. And another. The water was up to my knees. My shivering became shuddering.

I had left notes, one for my mother—Galina Florescu, that is, and one for—whoever else. They said the same thing. 'I did my best. I'm sorry. Joviana'.

It hurt.

I didn't start crying until it reached my waist. I would have shouted up to Boris, but I couldn't. My teeth were chattering so hard I thought they might chip, and the shuddering was more like being wracked by convulsions.

Tori Amos lyrics ran through my head again: 'This is not this is not this is not really happening/ You bet your life it is, you bet your life it is, Honey, you bet your life—'

I was so cold. Perhaps my feet had gone numb by now, but the water was up to my chest. I was going to die. I was going to die. This was so stupid. I was so stupid. This could never work, never mind all my theories about the internal mechanisms of the universe in which we lived. I was going to end…

The waters were up to my neck, my chin, my mouth, over my nose and now…

The waters closed over my head.

The cold was as sharp as swords flensing the flesh from my bones. My chest was going to burst with the pressure of holding my breath in, my heart and my head were both pounding, and I was so, so, cold…

I could control it no more. I breathed out—and then I breathed in.

I breathed in my death, and breathed out my life.

I stopped it there. I had promised Malice my death, not my brief afterlife, nor my resuscitation, waking in the castle infirmary with the Knighthood of the Order of the Dragon around my neck.

I let her recover from that for a little while, and while she did, I put the bathroom to use.

It was vile. It also looked like a shoddy do-it-yourself job, which made sense, because it must be difficult for someone like Magneto, with his reputation and his attitude toward humans, to find a plumber willing to travel to the Bermuda Triangle to install a bathroom in a building on an island that looked like a bad nightmare.

I wondered if it was the only one on the island. While I did that, I checked out the cabinet under the sink. There were some potentially useful chemicals under there. Nothing exotic—just common household cleansers and such for the bathroom—but when used incorrectly, they could be dangerous.

'How many mutants—no, how many people are there on this island, besides you and me?'

'Do you love him that much, that you did that for him?' she asked.

'Not then, I didn't. I needed him, though. And I liked him.'

'You actually like him?' This seemed incomprehensible to her.

'Let's move on. I don't like you and I'm not going to confide in you. How many?'

'Four,'

'One of those is Magneto. Who are the other three?'

'The Toad, Sabertooth, and Mastermind.' she replied.

I knew of all three. The Toad was an acrobat, with (predictably) a long, retractable tongue. He also spat toxic phlegm. He could cling to walls, and his agility and endurance were greater than human.

Sabertooth was more beast than human, maned like a lion, with fangs and claws. He had heightened senses, was an excellent tracker, and had the ability to heal very quickly. He was also phenomenally strong and swift. However, he was as stupid as a log

Mastermind was a gaunt, seedy man, one of the few players in the adventurer game who never wore a costume. He usually went around in a threadbare raincoat that made him look like the caricature of a stalker, or else a flasher. His powers were mental; he projected incredibly realistic illusions that extended to all senses. I wouldn't be able to trust the evidence of my eyes, or any other sense when I faced him.

Because I would have to face him. I would have to face all three. It was inevitable. Never mind how I knew; I knew, and that was all. After I defeated or at least incapacitated them, I would have to take on Magneto.

I wasn't looking forward to this at all.

'Where is the nearest computer with an internet hookup? Other than Magneto's, that is.'

As she directed me out of the bathroom and to a nearby building, I looked around the strange city that, like I myself, had been brought back after having been drowned. Something was very unnatural about it, and as I climbed a flight of stairs, I realized what. There was nothing living on it—no plant or animal life. Perhaps there was life in the sea, but here, there was not even a sea bird in the sky, not lichen or a blade of grass. It was sterile.

Ten minutes later, I was in the Toad's bedroom, the less said about which, the better. I wondered if he kept plates of rotting food around to try and attract flies...

More importantly, he had a computer. Sending a message directly to Victor from a foreign computer was tricky. I first had to connect to Latveria-net, which was easy, and then find a link that was concealed in the wallpaper design, follow it, and enter the proper pass code, which changed according to the phases of the moon and required higher math to solve. A simple password was out of the question, as it would not be secure enough.

But it connected me to the computers built into the armor itself, and I composed and sent a message explaining everything, adding that I was currently unharmed.

Less than two minutes later, I had an answer: 'I am on the way. It will take at least three hours at top speeds. Stay alive. Doom commands it.'

I was willing to concede that perhaps the third person was appropriate for this situation.

I wrote, 'I will do my best to obey that command.' I considered, and then added, 'I love you.'

As I sent it, the door to the Toad's bedroom opened.

"What are you doing in my room—and on my computer?"

TBC….

A/N: Yes, Amokitty, I do count jewelry design as one of my hobbies. I make beaded jewelty, with semi-precious stones, silver, and crystal rather than gold,diamonds and platinum. I never heard of that site before--I'll check it out. More about how Victor feels, and why, will be revealed as the tale unfolds, but you get a good glimpse in this chapter.

Julietsdaughter: I'll see how it works out--I have to get them both to the wedding first! Plus I have to figure out what Doom's going to wear for the occasion... Thanks!

Chantrea Savann: Doom is on his way. Expect surprises...