He had to come. It wasn't that he didn't trust Terry, the boy was the first person in a long time he had come to trust, but he had to see it for himself. He'd faced a lot of people in his career, before his body finally betrayed him, but some names stood out more than others. Bane was one of those names, almost on the level… No, Bruce forced his eyes shut, he wouldn't even think that creature's name; he didn't exist. Bane stood out, he had been a truly formidable opponent and one of the few that Bruce had come to respect. A little at least.

The police, thanks to Barbara the other person he trusted, knew he was coming even if they didn't truly know who he was. They probably thought he was just some rich lookie-loo, out for a thrill at seeing one of Gotham's big bads reduced to a near corpse. Well let them, Bruce had never cared what other people thought of him.

"This way sir," one of the Gotham PD officers said, leading him down a corridor. "We don't really know what's wrong with him, just that he's wired up to a lot of machinery. The Medical examiner ought to know, but she's tied up downtown".

Bruce grunted in his now customarily dismissive way. Once he'd have had quite the witty banter with the officer, part of the act of Bruce Wayne, now he just didn't care. In an odd way it was a reversal of how things had always been. He wasn't Batman anymore, just Bruce Wayne yet somehow he found it easier to set aside his old mask and just wear his true personality as Batman out in the open. Of course Bruce knew exactly what was wrong with the shattered corpse in front of him (and what was keeping the ME, since Terry had reported in that he was taking the Batmobile downtown to deal with a mess left by some Jokerz).

They walked down the corridor towards Bane's room, the click of Bruce's cane on the tiles the only sound. He noted the rise of the ceiling where Terry, Batman now as he forced himself to think of the boy, had hidden to get the jump on Chappell. It was a good spot, maybe not where Bruce would have planned the ambush himself, but not bad for a beginner. The corridor terminated in a set of double doors. The police officer was fidgeting nervously as he laid his hand upon the handle. Bruce couldn't blame him; what was inside hadn't been a pretty sight on the Batsuit's playback, in the flesh had to be so much worse.

As they stepped into the room Bruce made a mental note to add a scent monitoring app to the Batsuit's design. The air was foul. A sickly sour smell permeated the air; it was the unmistakable scents of disinfectant, Venom, and human urine all mixed together. The yellow patch on the crotch of the occupant's pyjamas indicating that an adult diaper had become overfull and would soon start to leak. Apparently no one had even changed the continence aid since they had locked up his only carer for dealing the next generation of Venom drugs. The rough rasp of an artificial respirator, combined with the faint beep of a monitor filled the silence.

As he stared at the unnaturally aged body in front of him, Bruce felt a long buried rage rising in him. Not, strangely directed towards his old foe, but for the state he was in. Some of that must have shown on his face, because the already nervous police officer gulped heavily and stepped back.

"The Medical Examiner told us not to touch him…" the officer started to protest, probably in explanation for the state of the continence diaper.

"Get out", Bruce cut him off, putting all of the ice he had developed over the years as Gotham's Dark Knight into his voice, "Now!". The young officer fled in terror leaving the two old men alone together.

Bruce went to work. The mobile iris scanner he had in his pocket, disguised as a hip flask, confirmed the retinal pattern as Bane. Bruce had had few doubts that it wouldn't be, but it always paid to be certain. He collected a hair sample for DNA analysis back at the cave too; it always paid to be doubly certain. A sample was taken from the residue left in the venom pump just to confirm the substance, this went into a modified cigarette holder. Bruce's own pill box contained a miniature molecular scanner that could produce a quick result, but the machines back at that the cave would perform a fuller analysis. He debated doing a biometric facial analysis, but decided the result from the suit was probably sufficient and he didn't want to have to take his cane apart to put together the optical scanner. Lastly he checked beneath the nightwear for a few old scars that he'd left on Bane during their encounters. The man's skin was tissue paper thin, Bruce noticed.

Finally he was done; this truly was Bane. Bruce had half hoped it wouldn't be. He couldn't quite put his finger on why he felt that way; perhaps it was the uncomfortable reminder that he too had put his body far beyond its normal stress limits far too often. Would he be left one day sitting in his own incontinence, or perhaps he'd just have another heart attack fumbling at the lid on one of his pill bottles? Few things upset him in the way he own failing body did. Perhaps, he considered, it would have been better if he'd missed one of his falls or succumbed to Joker gas… He quashed that line of thought as soon as it started; no, he had a job to do here.

Bruce took a steadying breath, ignoring the reek of stale urine, and focused his attention on Bane. Throughout Bruce's examination he hadn't moved even once. Nothing except the rasp of a respirator. Not a single reaction. Bruce pulled out his fountain pen and twisted the nib to reveal a small flashlight. He'd neglected to check when using the iris scanner whether there was even pupil dilation, that was sloppy of him. A few flashes showed there wasn't even that simple response.

"Bane" he commanded! "Are you there, do you recognise me?" Nothing. "It's me, Batman, I finally have you." Still nothing, time for a final push. Just to be sure. "It must burn you up that I'm still walking around and you are just an old cripple in a chair. Who is the strong man now Bane, "Bruce taunted, "need some venom to get yourself to the toilet"? If anything was going to get a reaction it would be a jab at his old foe's strength. Bruce watched carefully. Nothing still. Bruce let out a sigh of frustration mixed with sadness. This wasn't Bane, just his body. Where ever his old enemy's mind was it wasn't here. Bruce idly wondered if perhaps Bane had used some sort of mental transference device to escape this fate, but dismissed that as just too fanciful even for someone in the super-villain club. Bane was truly gone. He reached out and gently closed the eyelids of Bane's body.

Bruce glanced at the machinery; the venom tanks that sustained the body were empty. He had replacements in the car of course, in case Bane needed it, but by the looks of the readout on the monitor it could be a couple of days before the withdrawal finally became terminal. The Police Officer should be back soon, Bruce knew, with a sergeant or perhaps even the commissioner's berating ringing in his ears. Barbara would be there shortly after. She'd recognise venom of course, and she'd probably even know where to get a fresh supply if Chappell wouldn't co-operate. Barbara had always been resourceful. Bane could probably still have another decade in front of him if a new source of venom could be located. There was a sudden sound of dripping; Bruce looked down to see that Bane's diaper had now started leaking onto the floor. There were footsteps in the hall, distant but coming closer.

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The Bat-Computer beeped to signal its final analysis. The biometrics, the molecular analysis, and several other results were ready. Bruce read them silently and then transferred Bane's file to the deceased database. The Batmobile roared into the cave returning Terry, Batman, after his patrol.

"So, I hear that Bane croaked during your visit," Terry said.

"No," Bruce replied, "he was already dead before I got there".

Fin