Disclaimer (for all chapters herein): This is a work of fiction based on the Dark Knight Trilogy, directed by Christopher Nolan. I do not own any aspects of the franchise, but I do own my OC's and the plot of this fiction piece. I make no profit.
This story will contain, at one point or another: harsh language, violence, sexual violence, manipulation, psychological abuse, stressful situations, drug use, suicide and murder.
For these reasons, this story is rated M.
The Decadence of Souls – XCs Kid
ONE: The Hunt Is On
Rain water ran through the street gutters in a micro-torrent as people hurried to find refuge from the heavy autumn downpour. Drivers on their route home were beeping their horns and yelling at one another, albeit in the safety of their own cars, while impatient taxi drivers made illegal manoeuvres.
The chaos out on the street was a sharp contrast to the warm, quiet, otherwise empty café in which Amélie sat at a table for two with a small cup of tea between her cold hands. The tumultuous state of her mind in that moment however would take the award for most chaotic.
Her right leg bounced up and down, she tapped the white cup in her hands with her fingers - to the waitress reading a magazine behind the counter's annoyance the - and regularly checked her wrist watch; doing this served only to make her more anxious.
Just then, the small bell above the heavy door chimed as it was heaved open. The napkins below Amélie's drink fluttered in the gust of wind that ran through the small café leaving in its wake unpleasant goose bumps, and the sight of Mathieu filled Amélie with relief.
"You're late. I thought you had been lifted." she said to him as she stood up to greet him with a kiss on the cheek, which he returned.
"Sorry, darling, something... came up" he said, looking away from Amélie as he gestured to the waitress for another two tea's.
"Have you sorted it out?" she asked, feeling slightly panicked. Amélie was not concerned with what the something was, she just wanted reassurance that it wouldn't interfere with their escape.
"Yes." he answered simply, staring down into the black tea that the bored waitress placed before him.
"Good...good." she said quietly with an exhale.
"How are you getting to your Grandmother's?" Mathieu asked.
"Oh, I'm not going to stay at my Grandmother's."
"Don't be ridiculous!" Mathieu exclaimed, taking Amélie aback, although her only reaction was a slight raise of her eyebrow. "Your Grandmother's would be the safest place for you; you know this. Why did you change your mind? You have to go." he insisted, almost aggressively.
Amélie wasn't happy with how Mathieu was speaking to her, and saw his behaviour as odd for him, but she blamed this on their dilemma, and instead of persecuting him for it, she considered what he was trying to say.
"I just couldn't put the burden on her." Amélie reasoned.
"But she's your family; she wouldn't see it a burden to protect you. Please Amélie." Mathieu looked her in the eyes then, for the first time during their brief meeting, and Amélie could see a strong emotion behind his eyes. It made her feel slightly uneasy, but for what reason, she couldn't place her finger on.
Her alternative plan was to hitch hike around the country, staying in cheap hostels and getting low pay, cash-in-hand jobs to keep her going, until it all blew over - which, she was convinced, eventually would. But Mathieu had a point: her grandmothers cottage was completely off the grid, and before Amélie agreed to take part in their revolution of sorts, she used the Clean Slate program on herself, making it next to impossible to find any information about her or her any of her relations.
She sighed resignedly and said "You're right Matt. I'll go tonight, and stay there for a few months." he grinned at her, and placed his hand over her own.
"Thank you." he said.
"What about you? Where are you going to go?"
"I know a man living in the north of Spain who does not want to see us condemned. He has offered Fadil and I a place to stay. In fact," he checked his watch, "They should be here very soon."
"What about the base? Did you destroy everything? There is absolutely no-" Amélie began questioning quickly.
"Nothing. We left absolutely nothing that is traceable to any of us." Mathieu finished.
"Do you really think Adrien would tell the authorities anything about us?" she said, saddened at the loss of her friend.
"I don't know. That's why we need to hide; you don't know what a person would do to save their own skin."
A car horn beeping several times quickly, in urgency, interrupted them. They both looked out the window. The street had all but cleared now, and they could see a small blue car parked on the opposite side of the road. Fadil was in the front passenger seat, gesturing with his hand for Mathieu to hurry up.
"Shit, that's them." Mathieu said, jumping up and grabbing his bag off the floor. Amélie stood up and opened her arms to him, and he hugged her. He gently pushed her head to his chest, and kissed the top of her head. Then he quietly said into her hair, "I'm sorry, Amélie. Goodbye."
He released her, and then he was gone, out of the café and running toward the car. Amélie watched, confused by his strange farewell, as the car quickly sped down and out of the street.
She went back to the table and gathered her own things, leaving money for their drinks. Then she too left that café, for the last time.
When the bus pulled into the lone station, Amélie was reluctant to leave its comforting warmth.
Over the course of the three-hour journey she had been able to relax and feel calm and safe for the first time in almost two weeks. She was able to organise her thoughts and fully understand her position, in preparation for the idle weeks that were to come.
As strange as it sounded, especially considering the nature of the object -a musty, old bus that had seen too much of the road- she knew that journey would stick in her mind for a long time, if not forever, only for the absolute contentedness she felt throughout. Her hectic life meant she seldom had such peacefulness.
When she stepped down, out of the bus and into the chilly, midnight, country air, Amélie didn't go near the station, not for food nor to use the bathroom; the danger of being photographed was too great. Instead she began walking up the steep, untreated road. With each step she took away from the bus station, the further she walked into the enveloping darkness, until the light from the station could no longer reach her.
Darkness shrouded her to the point that she couldn't see her hands in front of her when she held them up.
As a child, the darkness would be the main demon of her nightmares; it took a form, huge and intimidating and humanoid, and what could only be described as its eyes would gleam as it approached her slowly, until it was on top of her. At that point she would wake up screaming with tears running down her face.
That dream haunted her until her early teens, but over the years of experiencing it she had grown used to it, she had fought against it. Make no mistake that the figure would still paralyse her in terror at first glimpse -she felt an unease at the sight of a shadow remotely similar to the figure from her nightmares- but every time the nightmare occurred, she would do her best to stay in control and to push the demon back, until one night she had a dreamless sleep. Since then, the demon had left her nights be.
Feeling lonesome by the sudden remembering of her childhood monster, she stopped at the top of the hill for a break and looked back at the bus station. She was so far from it now that the only that could be made of the station was the faint glow of its lights; like a beacon in the dark.
She was close to her Grandmother's farm cottage, only twenty or so minutes of walking remaining, when she heard rustling in a hedge. Amélie knew it was probably a fox or rabbit, but she couldn't help the urge to turn to toward the direction of movement and call out, "Hello?" Immediately she felt silly for doing so.
Then in the distance, quickly coming towards her, she heard a car engine, which she thought was odd because this narrow lane she was walking along was only used by local farmers and residents, none of whom would be out at half past midnight.
She turned around turned back around facing the direction the car was approaching, intending to make her presence known and get out of its way, when, two arms locked around her tightly, pinning her arms to her side.
Immediately she began to scream, out of shock more so than in search of help -no one was within hearing distance, and regardless, everyone living within the vicinity were elderly-, but a cold, large hand was quickly clamped over her mouth, also unknowingly blocking one nostril.
Bright headlights lit up the scene as the Jeep slowed to a stop in front of Amélie and her assailant. She knew the two men in the front seats of the car were not stopping to help her. This was only proved when the man in the passenger seat hopped out and opened the back door. When the man holding her started lifting her towards the Jeep, she began to violently thrash in his arms, pointless screams muffled all the while.
A few sharp punches delivered to her side and stomach by the man at the car door quickly ended Amélie's attempts, knocking the wind out of her. She tried to regain control of her breathing, but with only one nostril it was impossible. She tried all the same, taking painful, panicked breathes but quickly became light-headed and blacked out.
When she awoke, Amélie was laying where the man had dumped her unconscious body; across the back seat of the Jeep, and in the seat opposite her was a man with dark brown hair on a small head and heavy stubble covering a round chin. She realised that this was the man who grabbed her.
He noticed immediately when she had woken up and turned his head to look at her. Amélie met his stare with her own tired one. After a few seconds of this, she sat up and moved as close to the door -as away from him- as possible. It was still dark outside, she must not have been unconscious for very long.
Amélie kept her face stern trying to feign annoyance, so as not to allow him to see how very, very afraid she was. How did they find me? Did Adrien really betrayed us?
"Well then, who do you work for? The government? A private corporation?" Amélie asked the man coolly, in an attempt to feel some control in the situation. If this was her caught, she wanted the people to see her as dignified, unshakable and proud; she wasn't ashamed of what she'd done.
The man stared at her for a few seconds as though she had said nothing, then hesitated before leaning forward, elbows on knees, and saying something in what Amélie thought was English, his voice low but brief. Amélie didn't know what he was saying, just as he did not understand her.
"You do not speak French?" she asked him. His faced morphed to a small frown and after a few more seconds he brought his finger up to his lips and made a "Shhhhh." sound, before relaxing back into the seat, looking away from her.
The command issued to Amélie did not faze her, because she was too concerned with the questions riddling her mind.
What business have foreigners got with me? Have they got Mathieu and Fadil? Is my grandmother okay?
So much was uncertain, and would most likely remain so. Amélie stared out the window, past her weak reflection, and watched as they passed field after field, a deep sickness nesting in her stomach.
After an hour and a half of silent driving; after the man opposite her had three cigarettes; after Amélie had dozed off for the fifth time, the Jeep slowed to a stop in a large, even, green field.
Amélie stared at the small plane a short distance away, then she looked about the car in panic as the men began exiting it. Where are they taking me?
The man who sat opposite her and ignored her the entire journey was making his way round to the door she sat at. Amélie tried opening the door, her hands grasping at the handle and her body frantically banging into the locked door, but to no avail.
When the man reached her door and saw what Amélie was attempting, he banged twice on the window with his fist, shaking her from her thoughtless actions, and fixed her with a warning glare. Then he gestured with his hand for her to move away from the door, which she slowly and reluctantly did.
He maintained eye contact with her, in case she decided to try anything else, as he opened the door and climbed halfway in so he could reach her.
When Amélie saw the pair of handcuffs in one of his hands her panic got worse and she started to kick him as he neared her, holding the handle of the door behind her for support.
Barsad was getting frustrated with the girls feeble attempts at getting away from them, but when she kicked him in the face his anger reached a new height. Once he was able to grab hold of one of her ankles, he roughly dragged her completely out of the Jeep so that she landed with a heavy thud on her back. In her momentary daze he secured the handcuffs on both her wrists, in front of her, then pulled her up by them.
He dragged her to the aeroplane by the upper arm, all the while she was throwing angry curses at him and trying to shake him off. He would have laughed at her pathetic struggles if his lip did not sting from where her foot split it open. For what reason Bane needed this brat Barsad didn't know, and he was angry that he was sent on this tedious mission, but he trusted his leader.
When they were in the plane, Barsad more than happily shoved the girl toward Isidore to deal with her instead, as he escaped to the cockpit.
The new man led Amélie to the small seating cabin and pushed her into a seat. She was getting frustrated with their constant manhandling; she may have been a wanted criminal throughout France, but their mistreatment of her was over the top and non-professional for authorities.
She immediately stood up again when he pushed her into the seat, and he pushed her down again, more forcefully. Once again she was up in a flash when the man began to turn away from her.
He whipped back around and pointed a large finger in her face, and was about to say something when Amélie got her word in first.
"Stop shoving me around you bast-" she shouted at him, but a hard slap across her face cut her off mid-insult, and threw her back into the chair. The man fastened the seatbelt around her waist, tightening it until it was painful to breathe.
She looked up to the man with wide eyes, her left watering from the hit, and he looked down at her smugly then turned and walked away.
Barsad heard the slap from the cockpit, and walked into the cabin to see what was going on, as Isidore was saying to the girl "Sit there and stay quiet." He watched as the girl silently cried once Isidore had turned his back on her and a part of him wished that he was the one who did it. Then went back to his work.
Amélie awoke to a head of dark brown hair in her face, startling her. Barsad looked up at her when he noticed she was awake and was met with her small, tired eyes. The plane had only moments before landed in their base in Georgia and he was trying to undo the seatbelt, however Isidore seemed to have broken the mechanism so that it held in place.
Hearing two vehicles approaching them, Barsad cursed the awkward seatbelt and reached down to his belt for his large hunting knife. He saw the girl flinch from the corner of his eye. He quickly cut through the annoying material, and in the process nicked the girls stomach lightly, two small dots of blood appearing on her white t-shirt. He made no move to apologise, only stood and motioned for her to move.
As they stood in the field surrounded by a forest, Amélie shivered and yawned silently while her finger rubbed the stinging cut on her stomach through the hole in her t-shirt while glaring at the back of the man who did it. The sun was beginning to rise, bringing a warm orange glow to the grey scene.
Two Jeeps, similar to the one used to drive them to the aeroplane in France, skidded to a stop in front of the spaced out group.
Amélie felt relief at the thought of being away from the men who kidnapped her, and at the opportunity to finally speak rationally with someone in power. She understood that she'd been caught and would be charged for her crimes, regardless of the good nature of her intentions, and she accepted that.
From them emerged eight men in all; seven of the men carried large, semi-automatic weapons and wore mismatched military-style clothing. The eighth man was anything but; even from this distance, Amélie could tell he was huge as he towered over the other men by almost a head. A long, tan coat, lined with white fur protected him from the early morning, crisp, autumn air. He carried no weapon – at least not visibly.
What was most alarming and disconcerting about his appearance was the large, mask-like apparatus that dominated his face. Amélie had never seen the likes of it before in her life, and it made her feel uneasy.
The large and intimidating figure strode toward them. Amélie couldn't tear her eyes away from the horrible thing obscuring his face, but when she did she was met with his black eyes staring directly at her. She was frozen in place by the hatred she felt from his stare, overcome with a cold dread, and quickly looked away at the ground while biting her lip – an old habit. A new-found panic rose within her at the prospect of being in this man's presence.
Bane frowned at the sight of the girl who stood alone in the background of a small team of his men. She looked like a child, short and too thin. This pathetic, fearful looking girl was the major threat to the League's latest enterprise? He scoffed at the very idea of it. No, he would deal with her before noon, proving she was nothing but a nuisance and an unsatisfying reason for their wasted resources and time.
"This is the girl you requested, sir." Barsad reported.
"Did you encounter much difficulty with our little captive?" Bane asked.
"She proved to be uncooperative on many occasions," Barsad replied while unknowingly touching the cut on his bottom lip with the tip of his tongue. "But-" he was about to continue with his report, when a series of roars erupted.
"Sir! The girl!" one of the men shouted, pointing at the girl who was sprinting towards the thick forest, her gait awkward due to the restraints on her wrists. That was unexpected.
The mercenaries were cocking and aiming their weapons at the quickly retreating figure, when Bane raised his hand to stop their actions. Barsad looked to him questioningly.
"Don't shoot her; fire warning shots only." Bane ordered. He then went to one of the trucks, removed his jacket and threw it on the passenger seat while shots echoed through the field. In the distance he heard the girl screech.
He returned to Barsad a few seconds later and watched as the girl was close to the forest line now.
"Your mission is complete, Barsad. Return to base with the other two and get some rest." He said to Barsad. "The hunt is on, brother." Barsad could hear the glee in Bane's voice and could see the predatory excitement in his eyes that usually came with a conquest. He felt a slight pity for the stupid girl, but the thought of a warm meal and bed gave him a feeling of great relief after the long mission.
Upon signal by their leader, the remaining mercenaries began running after the girl as soon as she entered the forest, Bane in toe.
AN/ Thanks for the reviews, favourites and follows on the prologue, I hope you guys enjoyed this chapter.
Your criticisms and opinions are imperative to me and the story, especially as this is my first time writing a proper story, so let me know what you think (too long, too boring, badly written, ridiculous, etc). It's really helpful and keeps me going, so let 'er rip :)
"Let the games begin!"
-XCs Kid