A/N: It's been a couple of years since I have written fanfiction Anyway, I saw The Dark Knight Rises last week and really enjoyed it. I was also finished reading Dan Brown's The Lost Symbol at the same time and just couldn't put it down. I saw some similarities between the two really great villains, Bane and Mal'akh, and wondered what might happen if they met. This is only a snippet, and takes place at the climax of The Lost Symbol for anyone who has read it. I hope you enjoy., and let me know what you think please. Thanks!

Bane vs Malakh

"Ah, Mr. Solomon. Please, do step forward." Bane said with his slow, pained voice as he walked out from the shadows and toward the two men. Mal'akh's heart raced as he scowled. What was this masked madman doing here? How did he find them? Robert Langdon was still in his basement, trapped. Peter was quite confused, however. For a moment the pain wracking his body ceased as he tried to make sense of this masked man. His fingers wrapped around the neck of his green Kevlar vest, Bane did not mind the black Under-Armor that hugged his form so tightly, even as it made him sweat in this warm but sacred Masonic chamber.

On the other hand, Mal'akh, wearing only his loin cloth, narrowed his eyes at the brutish figure as he continued to lazily approach them. Looking to the tattooed man with hesitation, Peter slowly began to stand up from his wheelchair, his handless right limb crying out in pain with his fresh, bandaged wound.

"No." Bane said ominously. "I mean the other Solomon." Both Peter and Mal'akh felt their hearts race when the elder gentleman turned to the hulking man beside him. He looked into his grey eyes, when his world split. Impossible, he thought.

"You've done well to put everything together." Zachary Solomon said with a breathy whisper. "Just who are you? Really?"

"I had no name when I first met you Mr. Solomon. I was but a prisoner, born to be, destined to be. You claim to be a god, a god risen from the shadows, but I..." Bane brought his bulking arms outward to better present himself. "I was born in the shadows!"

"Enough!" Mal'akh spat when he brought his sacred dagger up. "Tell me who you really are."

"They call me Bane now. I was the one with you the night your father left you in that prison Mr. Solomon. Wealth or wisdom was it? You said to me your father gave you that choice. I was the one who tried to save that young man's life when you killed him and claimed him as yourself. I was the one you left to rot that day. You did to me just as your father did to you." Zachary's eyes widened, just as his father's.

"You…you…"

"Yes Mr. Solomon. I have been following you for many years now. I nearly had you in Italy so many years ago, but now here we stand. You, and I, Mr. Solomon." Just then the heavy wooden doors behind them burst open as Professor Langdon appeared. Though a middle-aged man in top shape, he still appeared out of breath as sweat began to soak through his turtleneck sweater. His eyes widened at the glorious sight of the House of the Temple before them.

"Robert!" Peter called out, immediately attracting Langdon's attention. Mal'akh's blood boiled. His careful plans, years of work and dedication, meticulously thought out and orchestrated in his mind, undone by mere moments.

"Ah, Professor Langdon. Good for you to join us. I see you made it out of that mansion in one piece." Bane said as he turned. Robert narrowed his eyesat him. Yeah, no thanks to you. "You're just in time to keep the world as we know it from ending."

"You're wrong you fool!" Mal'akh cried in an uncharacteristic bellow. "The world will change tonight, and I will become a god. Now you will only help me." Zachary's grey eyes glanced to the laptop computer lying on the ground at Peter's feet, when he dropped to a knee and pushed a key. "Now then, shall we Peter?" He flipped the dagger in his hand around and placed its ivory handle into Mr. Solomon's palm. He took his fingers and wrapped them around its hilt.

"What are you doing?" Peter asked softly.

"For me to ascend from this body, a sacrifice must be made." Mal'akh replied. "A blood sacrifice. And there is no other person better suited than you, the man who was Zachary Solomon's father. And I shall be the sacrifice."

"Zachary…" Peter's eyes began to fill with tears.

"He is dead Peter. He has been for many years. All because of you. Now do it. Kill me. If you want to save your sister and your precious brotherhood you will have to do this." Peter looked down at the laptop, where a bar appeared. 12%. "That's right Peter. If you don't kill me, the footage of your Masonic rituals shall be sent to all the world's great news centers. Your order will be extinguished, and your brotherhood ended, just as your mother's life, and if you don't act, your sister's."

"She was your grandmother!" Peter cried. Mal'akh smirked when he placed the dagger at his chest.

"Do it." He whispered. Peter Solomon felt his heart and mind race as emotions and thoughts ran rampant. This tattooed giant, a twisted version of his little boy. A fanatic, he had done everything in his plan perfectly. From infiltrating the Masonic Order, to acting as his personal psychiatrist, Dr. Abaddon. Mal'akh was soon to fulfill his years of work in this one night. That's when they could hear a distant church bell chime. Once. Twice.

Before the bell chimed a third time, and Mal'akh felt the blade's wicked tip push into his chest, something stirred. Both he and Peter looked upward, just as a heavy fist crashed into Zachary's cheek. Though a muscle-bound man himself, Mal'akh reeled from Bane's assault, stumbling backward toward the stone slab before them. He wiped at the corner of his mouth then lunged forward with a vicious growl.

As Mal'akh and Bane clashed, throwing muscle-packed arms back and forth, and no signs of stopping as fists slammed against one another, Peter looked down at the laptop. 24%. The two brutes continued to fight with no sign of stopping. Even without any protection of his own, Mal'akh seemed to take Bane's heavy punches to his gut and sides with surprising strength. Likely a result of the years upon years of steroid usage at his Italian villa as the man named Andros.

Meanwhile Robert Langdon stood in awe, unsure of what to do or make of the situation before him. On one hand, the man behind the night's destructive events was in the path of a wrecking ball, and yet, as he had witnessed, it was still Peter's son. He brought his arms up and rushed toward them. He only wondered what would happen if the CIA director Inoue Sato would do if she was here with Agent Simkins.

"Enough! Stop this!" He cried. Finally Peter, with tears rolling down his cheeks, stood up weakly and turned to the two hulking men. Bane was the only one to acknowledge Mr. Langdon when a heavy fist crashed into the side of his gasmask. Though it tore at Mal'akh's carefully tended-to skin, he felt a certain satisfaction as his opponent's mask split apart slightly. A white gas began to hiss out of the split pipes when Bane turned.

Pain wracking his body, adrenaline and rage overwhelmed it all as the masked man narrowed his eyes. That mask had been the only thing keeping him from such enormous pain for all these years. He jumped forward, narrowing missing Mal'akh when he crashed his fists down. A section of the stone slab before him crumbled under his strength as the angered brute turned and fell onto his back, right on the slab as the younger Solomon pounced. Even Bane was surprised by his strength, when the pain began to overwhelm him.

"You will witness the emergence of a new era." Mal'akh said in his soft but confident tone. "My transformation shall be complete, and you have had the honor of witnessing Zachary Solomon, a frail young man, become a god in league with the Pantheon!" Bane was becoming too weak and in far too much pain to fight off the muscular man when Mal'akh tossed him off to the side, landing with a heavy thump onto the tile floor. He glanced at the laptop. 36%. The tattooed man turned to Peter Solomon with the knife still in his hand, eyes narrowed. "What are you waiting for? Do it!"

Peter felt his single hand begin to tremble as his mind raced. This tattooed man, the one who had kidnapped him, who had chopped his right hand off, and who threatened to kill his sister and Robert Langdon, was his son. He still had trouble picturing his beautiful baby boy as this monstrosity.

"Do it Father!" Zachary demanded, tugging at Peter's heartstrings. "You choose. Me, or your sister and your brotherhood." Robert couldn't interfere with the Solomon confrontation. No. As he ran around Zachary Solomon, whose sights were set exclusively on his tearful father, the symbologist dropped to his knees next to the brute known as Bane. His eyes half-open, his tooth-like mask was now crooked and broken, but not shattered. He looked at Robert in a daze, as he was in danger of going into shock from the pain all over his body. A few, inaudible groans passed through his mask, when he weakly brought a finger up and pointed up to it.

Robert Langdon didn't need to have precise instructions as he began to piece Bane's tattered mask back together. The teeth-like projections, it turned out, were in fact tubes, and as Langdon reconnected each one, he found that these tubes helped to qualm the pain wracking this man's body. Slowly but surely, the brute's eyes began to find strength once more, when he blinked with a lively spark. Bane's dark eyes narrowed at Professor Langdon. He nodded to the college professor.

Thank you Mr. Langdon.

Peter, conflicted between his loved ones and his son, clenched his jaw before crying out. Bringing the legendary blade up, the one supposedly used by Abraham to sacrifice his son Isaac to God, he lunged forward just as another jumped for Mal'akh. A hand came up and cupped the back of Zachary's head. Before the man could respond, Bane forced him around and swung him into the stone Masonic slab before them. Mal'akh's vision went white as his body went numb. The force behind Bane's hand forcing him into hard stone likely gave him a minor concussion, but as he stumbled to his feet, he reminded himself that in mere moments it wouldn't matter. A hand graced the meticulously tattooed features on his face, gracing them as if they were sacred treasures. He looked over his shoulder at the laptop.

57%.

That's all I have right now. Had a lot of fun writing it, but I don't know if I'll finish it. Just curious as to what you guys thought of it. Thanks for reading!