This is my first Batman story. I'm not entirely certain where it's going right now, but I'm currently half-way through Chapter 6 and I think I really like the direction it's taking.
Please feel free to leave me any constructive criticisms or questions or comments in general!
It was a 3am bike ride that did it.
The streets of Gotham were unsafe enough in the day time, but with Blackgate broken open and Bane's goons patrolling the streets at all hours, night time was especially unsafe. As if she cared.
Ana rarely considered the danger or consequences of anything before doing them. Diving in headfirst to whatever was something she'd always done. As such, riding her bicycle through the mostly deserted streets of occupied Gotham at three in the morning on a Wednesday was the exact sort of thing she'd thought nothing of doing. Screaming New Found Glory lyrics at the top of her lungs through the empty streets was just the icing on the oops cake. Ana just didn't think.
The headphones jammed over her ears and blasting stopped her from hearing him, but she saw Bane standing in front of her in the middle of the street before she hit him, at least.
"Oh… fuck," it came out with her breath: a whisper.
Ana squeezed the break and stopped pedaling, letting the momentum of the fixed-gear pedals and the upward motion of the bike launch her into the air, pushing her back leg over the seat, she landed nimbly on the pavement next to the bike she held up by the handlebars.
It was the gun pointed at her that had made her stop and not simply ride around the hulk who stood in the middle of the street. She bit her lip, paused her music, and slid the headphones down around her neck. The mercenary simply stared at her.
"I seem to have captured a little bird," he rasped. His mechanical voice grated on her and made her shiver.
"A fox, really," she said, her face blank.
"A fox should be more cunning."
Ana shrugged. She was cunning when she wanted. "Was there something you wanted? If not, I'll just be going…"
"I think not," he raised an eyebrow at her, then looked into the darkness before looking back to her.
Before she had the chance to move, she was roughly grabbed by the arms and a black bag was pulled over her head. She fought and kicked as she was dragged away.
It was ages of darkness, it seemed. She was frightened and felt sick. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. You knew it was fucking dangerous. Everyone told you to be careful, but no, no, Ana will be fine. Ana is superhuman. Ana is above the rules. Fuck sake. She seethed at herself as she was half-marched, half-dragged. After an hour of walking, she got fed up of it and let herself fall to her knees. A rough kick to her side had her quickly back on her feet and walking again. It burned and the pain kept her grounded. She focused on it and how it felt, prickles of bright heat in the overall dull burn of it.
Two more hours of marching in some random direction through Gotham ended with vertical motion. Ana could hear the elevator she was in. She could hear Bane's breathing, so she knew he was there as well, at least. She couldn't be sure if the elevator was moving down or up, though.
"Leave her to me," Bane said… calmly maybe? It was hard for Ana to read people at the best of times, but his mechanical voice and the blackness of the bag over her head made it impossible.
She was shoved forward and landed on rough concrete on her hands and knees, more bright flashes of pain in the blackness. Her palms burned as she pushed herself off the ground and stood up. It was neither cold nor hot and neither humid nor dry.
"You may remove that."
Ana pulled the bag off of her head and looked around. The room she stood in was brighter than she'd expected. No light had been able to permeate the black bag. There were computers and monitors set up on a desk with a chair and a rumpled slept-in bed in the corner, but aside from that, the room was mostly empty.
"Where are we?" she asked.
"Home."
"Yours?" she asked.
"Ours," he answered with a finality that would have told most people it was time to shut up. Ana frowned at him in confusion.
"I don't understand. What do you want me for?" she asked.
"In time. For now, clean yourself up," Bane nodded to a door at the back of the room.
Ana huffed and walked across the room and through the door. It was a roughly constructed bathroom. A large pipe opened up in the middle of the floor and a bucket hung from a spigot on the wall.
"You can't be serious," she muttered. At least there was a mirror.
She looked like shit – her hair stood up on all ends from having been in that bag for so long. She pulled a hand through it, flattening it and sorting out the largest tangles, smoothing it to the side. The top section of her hair fell into her face like a neon pink and orange veil while the rest of it – dark brown, was closely cropped on the sides and back of her head. At least that made it easy to deal with.
Ana lifted an arm and ducked her head. She reeked of sweat, but having Bane for an apparent new roomie wasn't too much of an incentive to smell nice. She turned the spigot on anyway and let the water pour into the bucket, waiting until it was half-full before shutting the water off. It was cold. Not icy, but definitely not pleasant. There weren't any washcloths or towels and she sighed in annoyance, putting the bucket on the floor and walking back out the door.
"Have you got some sort of towel or rag or something?" she asked, looking at the floor rather than meeting Bane's eyes. Something she had yet to do, in fact. She still didn't even know what colour they were. "And a shirt maybe? There's really no point in me 'cleaning myself up' if I've nothing clean to wear."
Bane rummaged through a pile of clothing on the floor next to the bed and tossed a shirt towards her. It was plain black and many sizes too big. Ana reached and caught it out of the air before retreating back into the 'bathroom'. She shucked off her shoes and the tight bike messenger knickers she preferred to wear when riding and pulled off her hoodie and the tshirt she wore beneath it. She twisted and turned in the mirror, looking at her body before watching herself take off her underwear. She struck some nude poses in the mirror, and then walked over and kneeled in front of the bucket.
Ana held her breath and plunged her head into the cold water, swishing her hair around a bit before snapping up, flipping her wet hair behind her, creating an arc of splashed water along the walls and ceiling. She scrubbed at her scalp with a bar of soap she had found on the floor. The minimalism of the bathroom and the rough concrete scraping against her knees, shins, and the tops of her feet kept her painfully aware that she was not home, not safe, not okay. It was all she could do to try and keep herself calm by pretending as though this was any other shower.
When the lather in her hair was thick, she pulled and molded her hair into a Mohawk, watching in the mirror as it stood for a few seconds before flopping over into her face. She scraped the soapy hair off her face before pouring water from the bucket over herself and following it with the bar of soap, sudsing and lathering her entire body. She did her face last and then blindly felt her way over to the wall spigot, turning it on and sitting beneath it, rubbing at her skin and hair to rinse away the soap. Once she was soap-free, Ana swished the soap bar around in the remaining bucket water until it was hazy and bubbly. She washed her clothes in it and then rinsed and rung them out over the open pipe that served as a toilet.
Finished washing herself and her clothes, Ana twisted the water out of her hair and poured the contents of the bucket down the pipe before setting it back where it was. A thing she wouldn't have done at home, but she preferred not to fuck about with Bane's stuff.
She had been correct in her size estimation of the shirt Bane had tossed her. It was like a black tent, but at least it covered every bit of her stupidly long torso. She gathered her sill rather wet clothing in her arms and held them away from herself before pushing the door open with her foot and walking into the room.
"Where can I put these to dry?" she asked.
Bane pointed at a wire strung across the back corner of the room.
"Right. Thanks." Ana stood on her toes to hang the clothes up.
She turned around when she had finished.
"I'm clean now. Will you be telling me what you want with me, now?" she asked.
Mechanical rasping breath was her answer. She could feel him staring at her, but she didn't want to look. Eye contact was hard when it was people she'd known her whole life, there was no way she wanted to try it with Bane. She could hear him shuffling through papers on the desk.
"Ana Verland Roberts. Twenty-two years old. Born the twenty-seventh of June," he read off from a folder he held open in front of him. Ana's stomach turned. Her abduction had been planned – there wasn't a thing she could have done to save herself. "Five feet six inches tall. One hundred twenty five pounds. Hazel eyes. Brown hair. Of Native American, Middle Eastern, and European descent. Adopted at birth. Blood type B with negative RH factor. Attention Deficit Hyperactive Disorder."
She saw him put the folder down out of the corner of her eye and she tried to breathe evenly.
"Is there anything I missed?" he asked. If he hadn't been wearing the mask, and if she'd had someone else's brain, she'd have known his voice was smug.
"Asperger's Syndrome," she said, her voice barely above a whisper.
"Interesting. How does that manifest itself?" His voice was flat but it was a question; that she could tell, at least.
"I lack empathy, my thought process is highly logical rather than emotionally driven, I do not understand the body language of others, I am highly skilled at faking emotions, and I am meticulous and relentless – though self-absorbed."
"Helpful qualities."
"Why do you have my medical file? What do you want with me?"
"All things in time," he said again. "For now, sleep."
"Where?" There was only one bed in the room – his. He pointed to it.
Ana uneasily walked to it and sat down. It must have been nearly seven in the morning and Ana was exhausted, but the fear and stress were making her sick to her stomach, which caused all new anxiety. Her teeth chattered as she lay back on the bed, resting her head on the pillow. It smelled of hospital and it occurred to her that it was probably from vapor escaping his mask while he slept. If he slept – that was.
She nervously lay on Bane's bed for what seemed like forever, but it couldn't have been more than ten minutes before her full exhaustion overcame her anxiety and she fell asleep.
I've tried not to Wooby Bane. I'm sorry if I've failed at that, but I think if you keep reading, it'll work itself out and explain what's going on more - that's my intent, anyway. Do keep in mind that the main character has Asperger's Syndrome and is therefore mostly oblivious to what Bane is actually feeling. There will be parts written from his point of view, so please review and check back later. Thanks!