One-shot for a Bane/John Blake prompt that read: Instead of Gordon going into the sewers, John goes in. Newest ship in my fangirl head. Minor spoilers for The Dark Knight Rises. I wanted to point out John's BAMF nature, so be prepared for a man who doesn't give in without a fight. Enjoy!
Into the sewers of Gotham
It was supposed to be a routine chase after criminals. It turned into a bloodbath when John and the others went down into the sewers and landed in a war zone. For all his training and experience, John Blake found himself unprepared for the meeting with organized criminals lurking in the sewers beneath the streets of Gotham.
He had to throw himself down in the tunnel to dodge the vicious bullets and their ricochets that created a monstrous thunder but he survived as opposed to his poor colleagues. The ear deafening guns stopped shooting after a while and he pulled out his own weapon, along with a flashlight as he got up on his feet. The tunnel ahead was abandoned, no sign left of the men. When he looked down, he noticed his blue uniform was covered in stinking waste and mud.
He pressed on, vigilant and sharp-eyed, knowing the thugs were nearby waiting for him. He braced himself and sneaked around a corner, keeping a low stance just in case he was greeted by another execution squad.
Empty tunnel.
John drew a deep breath and continued sneaking forward. The sound of a boot scraping against the wall gave away the first man he met, and John slammed the butt of his gun into his temple and caught the already unconscious man when he fell, lowering the man carefully to the ground to not make any more noises than necessary.
A spark of satisfaction surged through him at the thought of having avenged his fallen colleagues to some degree. The cops above the well could just pick this man up later. He walked far into the vast sewer system, driven by an urge to take out more murderers and make them face justice. He switched off his flashlight to avoid detection; his eyes had gotten used to the darkness anyway. The next man didn't know what hit him when John came up from behind and pressed his hand over his mouth and swung his gun again. John kept walking.
Suddenly he stopped and turned his head to the left.
From the next parting of the way, odd sounds came from the left one. Distant, echoing and yet perceivable. Running water.
John smiled smugly and stepped closer. If he was approaching one of the working water stations under ground, it didn't matter that he had lost his orientation. There couldn't be that many uncovered channels under the city. He went inside the left tunnel, feeling cautious and eager. A dangerous combination.
All of a sudden, someone lying flat before him rose from the hiding place by the wall and his black outfit made him practically invisible to John for a critical second.
'Damn,' John thought and made to duck, trusting his instincts that he wouldn't have time to attack that fast, and he was right. With a dull groan, the brick wall took the brunt of the blow made by a large monkey wrench and John saw his chance. While crouching down, he launched himself at the man's legs and he toppled over as expected. John crawled over his writhing body to disarm him but even on his back and breathless, the man stayed focused.
Just as John's hand closed around the man's upper arm, the stranger wrenched himself to the side and caused the policeman to lose his balance. Seizing the momentary opportunity, the dark-clad man swung his arm and the daunting tool hit across John's head. The young man helplessly succumbed to the darkness.
When John finally came to, it was from the courtesy of a man slapping his face over and over.
"Boss, he's awake now," a subdued voice uttered and John slowly became aware of his surroundings. He was on his knees, held up by a hand on the back of his collar and his arms were tied behind his back: with wire if he wasn't mistaken.
With a lot of effort, the cop lifted his head and blearily glanced around. It looked like a cave with platforms, stairs, and ladders attached to the walls. Beneath him, water rushed past with much speed and the dizzying sight made him nauseous. He closed his eyes and suppressed a moan at the throbbing pain in his head. The echoing noise from the stream made the headache ten times sharper.
"Hey! You're done sleeping! Open your eyes," the same voice snapped and hit him again over the cheek. John hated being struck. If he hadn't been bound, in a strange place with enemies, and beaten half senseless, he would have made that clear to the thug. Pity he seemed to have lost his weapon and flashlight.
Instead, he obediently opened his eyes and began evaluating the situation. Armed men stood here and there and others were busy climbing the ladders or tapping on computers. He looked straight forward and noticed the enormous man straddling a chair, leaning forward with his hands on the thighs. Or was it a man? His arms were freakishly big, his biceps bulging, veins in his neck showing and the entire expanse of the lower part of the face was hidden under a hideous mask.
John didn't want to provoke the person by staring at his naked and intimidating chest, but he got the picture: he was meeting Bane and the man's reputation did him justice. This was a beast who could easily crush a man. John averted his gaze and tried to think of a way to escape.
"Good day, Officer Blake," Bane emitted and John shuddered when his name was tainted by this man's tongue. Bane spoke so loud, but the words came out ragged. He didn't reply but he wasn't surprised that the man knew his name. It was after all visible on his uniform.
"Answer the boss!" that unnerving asshole behind him snarled and John was about to turn his head around and give him that silent glare every criminal he arrested seemed to cower from, when Bane intervened.
"No, this young man has a mind of his own. Some men just can't be forced into submission by words alone. But I have my own methods."
At last, John was fed up with the constant grip that made his jacket press uncomfortably into his neck and he tossed his head to the side and felt the guard's fingers slip. Able to breathe unrestricted, he fixed his defiant eyes on Bane and met the dark eyes.
"There will be repercussions for kidnapping an officer," John informed him in his firmest voice but the big man released what reminded of a laugh, only it was contorted by the hideous mask.
"We didn't kidnap you. You came here yourself! A dim one, then? Gotham's finest indeed," Bane delivered with amusement replacing the bored expression. Then he nodded to someone beside John. "Knock some sense into him."
John anticipated the blow this time and closed his eyes as something blunt struck the crown of his head. When he opened his watering eyes, he saw stars and the world seemed to tilt. Shit, they hit hard. He needed to get out of here soon, and make it back to Commissioner Gordon to report that he had found Bane's hideout.
"Easy. I don't have time to wait another half-hour for him to wake up," Bane chided in what could be a soft tone and then got up from his chair. The whole platform trembled when the magnificent man put one boot before the other and walked towards John. Up close, he was terrifying, and the weird mask didn't exactly help his image.
"Look at me."
It cost John a lot to tip his head back and he swore he could feel something warm trickle though his hair and down his nape. An open wound on his head? Damn.
"What do you want me for?" he asked before releasing a cough. Bane crouched down before him and reached out his hand.
"Changed attitude, have we? I will not fall for your petty tricks so you can stop trying to manipulate me. But stay still for now," Bane muttered and swiped his thumb over John's muddy badge and when the golden surface showed, the man's eyes widened gleefully and his eyebrows went up.
"Polished and treasured. Are you the insufferable ace cop of the squad? Bet you've got five employee of the month diplomas in your home. You think you're something else. I don't."
He then wiped his thumb on John's reddened cheek and smudged out the mud as if the cop was a towel. John struggled against the tie on his wrists, not so much to really trying to break free as making it a point that he was not defeated.
Bane chuckled and stood up, peering down at him. "You were the first and only officer to make it that far into the sewers. Why is that? Driven by a certain conviction?" John almost gagged at the waves of anesthetics that washed over him whenever Bane rocked forward. Dimly, he hoped he hadn't gotten a concussion.
"And you brought him here. Was that a wise decision?" Bane's calm question was aimed at the men behind John and he heard a nervous shuffling of feet.
"I thought you'd want to…"
"This man has without doubt figured out the location and other information of this place by now."
"Boss, I…"
Bane waved his hand. A round of bullets from behind made John flinch and he threw himself down to not get shot by mistake. He never heard the body fall, but perceived the last gasp from the dying thug.
He was pulled up onto his knees again as Bane sighed dramatically. "You give a man a job… Well, we're running out of time."
The beast gestured at the policeman. "I'll see Officer Bold off myself. Go back to your stations." John saw how the armed men either turned their backs to him, or disappeared from view, and the platform above the racing river rattled once more as a group of people marched away. Yet, one man remained behind him and held his nape in a vice-like grip.
"What now?" John asked tiredly. If he was to die, he at least had gotten some retribution for the lives lost beneath the well. But Bane wasn't pulling a gun from his belt.
"What is under your feet?" The low voice made John flinch, for his had been on the verge of drooping off. And if it was futile to participate in Bane's game, he was beyond caring anyway.
"Water?"
"Correct observation. And what can water put out?"
John gritted his teeth and fastened his eyes on the mask high above, staving off the fatigue.
"Fire."
A pleased rumble left Bane and he nodded. "Right again. And I shall tell you something important, Officer Blake."
Bane bent forward and hissed, "All the water you see here will not be enough to put out my fire."
John couldn't decipher the riddle and kept quiet.
"He looks like a cold, pale fish. No spine, potentially slippery. I think I'd like to see him swim," Bane mused. That had John snapping his head up and with worry glancing at the dangerous stream. At least give him a fair chance to try to survive without the wire around his wrists! The hand on him slid down to his shoulder and nudged him towards the edge when Bane's loud voice cut through the relative silence.
"No, not like that. We need to be polite to our guest. Give him a parting gift. Something that will make the fish's environment look more realistic. Pour some oil over him."
"Bane, I'll come after you!" John roared when sudden anger chased away his terror. Why prolong a man's death when you've got guns? This was just cruel and that made him furious.
But Bane casually swung around and walked back to the platform with the desks and computers. Completely indifferent.
John was hauled to his feet and just as someone released his arms, a bucket of black, thick, stinking oil was emptied over him. His face was left untarnished but the fat oil made its way under his clothes and the stench from it made John grimace. Before he knew it he was pushed over the edge and falling.
After the initial plunge, John discovered that he kept sinking despite his normal strokes upwards. He kicked frantically and managed to get his head above the surface.
Already, he was in a dark tunnel, far away from Bane's cave but John had to fight for his life like he never had before because the oil hindered him from floating. Occasional undercurrents pulled him under when he least expected it and he was soon drained of energy. He was like a helpless rat in the merciless streams.
Half-drowning, John used all his remaining strength to stay above the surface and breathe. To keep himself afloat became the sole goal in his life in that moment. He had to make it no matter the concussion, the failing powers, and the treacherous oil coating his body. It was his duty to survive and get to tell Gordon of Bane. He needed to…
When pushed against a protruding rock in the wall, his hip took the brunt of the impact and John couldn't afford to trust that his unconscious body would keep him floating so he continued to swim despite a searing pain in his side. He didn't give in to the frightening tiredness.
He sputtered up some foul-tasting water and ignored the cold that travelled up his limbs thanks to the low temperature of the water and the oil. It seemed to take forever battling the elements until he saw a glimpse of light. Was it the end of the tunnel?
Suddenly it occurred to the exhausted man that if he was carried between the poles of the outflow, he would roll down a hill of concrete and maybe hit his head bad. But he was too tired to fight his fate. Shutting his eyes, the tough policeman let the water take him wherever it pleased.
A flash of light announced the exit of the tunnel and John braced himself for the slide down.
Something hit him in the stomach and hauled him aside, away from the water. John groaned and forced himself to open the eyes. A familiar black mask and a stern mouth.
The Batman.
As usual, he may not be where John had expected him to be, but he was nevertheless a welcome sight.
Ever the observant cop, John swept his eyes over the legendary figure and felt bad when he saw the state of Batman's arm that had caught him.
"Sorry for dirtying your armor, John mumbled before his eyes rolled back into his head on their own accord and in the misty wasteland between being awake and asleep, a dark voice growled, "There are dry cleaners in Gotham."
Yeah, Batman's got humor, ha ha. What did you think? Send me a comment, please.