Bruce followed Darwin into his laboratory with a small bit of trepidation.  The lab was still in shambles, only the doors had been repaired, and reinforced against future Mob incursions.  Still, Bruce was nervous.  The lab was were it all started and he came to realize he was a quivering coward.  It was something he had always suspected, something he had tried to repress and avoid for all of his life.  But deep in his heart, he knew, that he feared.  Nameless, faceless terrors of just being alive, he feared, period.  He hated the Templar for bringing that out in him, for dredging up the realization he had worked so hard to hide.  The Doctor hadn’t mentioned it, but it was on all the released vids for anyone to see.  Bruce could do nothing but claim a temporary insanity brought on by trauma.  A few people bought it, but not many.

     “Why are we here,” he asked, his voice sounding small in the lab.  He moved to a wall, to cut off an avenue of access.

     Darwin seemed unconcerned.  He even seemed to be unaware of his surroundings as he puttered about gathering familiar items and stuffing them in a travel bag.  Document discs were stored in his satchel, spare pieces of clothing were thrown in with a towel and shaving kit.

     “I have to gather my things,” he told Bruce.  “Something is going to happen.

     Bruce hit record on his audio recorder.

     “What?”

     “I don’t know for sure.  But something.”

     “Could you be more specific?”  Bruce moved closer to the Doctor

     “Why are you so curious?  For the six months you worked for me, you never asked so many questions.  Now you want to know every move I make.  If I didn’t know better, I would suspect ulterior motives.”

     The Doctor stopped and stared at Bruce.  The assistant backpedaled against the wall, trying to escape the glare.  He scrambled for the door.