The imagined disaster did not happen. Bruce launched himself into the air like a bird, landed steadily on the crossbar, and immediately grabbed the vertical pole beside him.
Bruce swayed as he came to an abrupt stop. He was much stronger than he had thought, and he had nearly slammed straight into it.
The crossbar beneath his feet was probably only half a palm wide, and he was now high above the ground on the forty-fourth floor of a skyscraper. Bruce kept zoning out, taking more than ten seconds to remember that he needed to keep climbing.
Bruce climbed this stretch quickly. The crane's structure itself was easy to climb, and because it had to hold people, it was tilted like a set of deliberately designed steps. Climbing with both hands and feet was quite smooth.
In less than two minutes, Bruce stood atop the crane. But he quickly realized that his plan had been too idealistic. He had thought he could stand firmly on top of the crane and pull up the steel cable suspending the person.
But first of all, the crane's top was not meant for anyone to stand on. It was tiny; even placing one foot on it was a struggle. If he stepped back a few paces, his arms would no longer reach the cable.
Bruce barely managed to stand on it, but he did not dare straighten up. He crouched there and reached for the cable directly below him. The moment he lost control of his balance, he pitched forward.
Fortunately, his hand caught the top of the cable, and he climbed back up shortly afterward. But that close call made him understand that it was impossible for him to pull the cable up under these conditions.
That left only one solution: slide down