Bane
Ch 1
He was in there.
The courthouse looked a lot darker than I remember. Not dark in the sense of lack of sun, because it was around noon, but in the lack of… morality. Gotham was a messed up city to begin with, but this….
Screams could be heard. Both of pain and triumph, though I was not sure which was worse. After the stadium crumbled and the bomb threat was made, the city went to hell…well… more than usual. I knew something was going to happen, I told Mason it would. I knew we should have left when I wanted to, but Mason dragged his feet. I should have made him leave. I should have pushed more.
But I did not…
And Mason was in there.
Mason and his good friend, James my godfather, were in there.
I left for two hours. Just two hours to try and find us a way out… and they got them.
Picturing his old worn body, beaten, tied, and waiting for his 'sentence' made my anger build. He didn't deserve this. Though no one really deserved any of this I could think of quite a few people who would be much better candidates than Mason and James.
After a day or two of surveillance and careful observation, a few exit routs were possible. But it all depended on who was in there, what was going on, and if I could get to them in time. Plus I have not been inside in years, no telling what changes were made. Especially in the last week.
Too many variables.
Too many things could go wrong, and probably only one way it could go right.
Puling my jacket closer, hood lower, I took the stares and went inside.
Hopefully no one recognized me.
Following the voices I ascended stares, around a corner and came to a long entrance way lined with windows on two sides. Hordes of unclean people, mostly men but some women too, lined the walls on all sides except for the end. Standing or sitting at or around desk lining one side and pillars on the other. Chattering amongst themselves like they had just seen a major play at a sporting event and wanted to discuss it play by play.
Cautiously, though doing my best to not look conspicuous, I stepped in.
"She screamed like-"
"-knew he did all those-"
"-he deserved worse-"
Blocking out the words, I continued to focus on the room. Close to the entrance was a table piled with various goods. Anything from batteries, to alcohol swabs, to hamburger helper.
Scanning the crowd, I breath a small sigh of relief when I didn't see a bald head and fur jacket. Only a few of his minions dotted the crowd with automatic rifles.
He isn't here today. But they may be a problem.
That was one thing working in my favor, if only a little.
But my eyes did rest on another man. Almost not recognizing him due to the lack of nourishment in prison and the ten years that went by. But I knew that face… not to mention the ear he was missing. Looking around more carefully I noticed other criminals I recognized. All from their mug shots from police reports and news casts.
Memories, long suppressed started to resurface.
Now it not the place! I chastised myself, squashing them down.
Then there was another I saw.
He was here too… the one without the eye and a scar.
This was turning out to be her worst nightmare.
Of course they were here. They must have heard about Mason.
Where they waiting for me too?
Of course not, I changed my name and it was ten years ago.
I look very different.
They have no idea.
At the end, in front of a massive window, was an enormous pile of desks. Standing at well over fifteen feet, countless desk were stacked one on top of another until there was but one desk sitting above the others. And settled smugly at this desk was a man.
He obviously had a king complex perched, unsafely though I was not going to tell him that, on his wood and metal throne. Making a show of flipping through sheets of paper that just seemed to slide off his desk and make a long fluttering journey to the ground. Joining an ever increasing pile of many colored papers on other wise clear floor.
Except for the random chair in the middle of the floor.
"Bring me Laura Makeshield!" The man on the throne finally said.
After a few minutes a scream pierced the silence and the crowd began to part on the far wall to omit two men towing a young woman. She looked about my age, blond hair a mess, and once name brand clothes dirty and torn. I only gave them a glance, more focused on where they came from then where they were going.
Mason and James must be in there.
Very carefully I made my way through the crowd, weaving around nasty bodies, drawing no ones attention since it was obviously somewhere else.
"Are you Laura Makeshield?" Looking back I saw the woman was seated in chair, mouth working for an answer though she obviously didn't want to.
"Of course you are." The King of the office desks continued on. "You were married to the late David Makeshield, correct."
Slowly she nodded, back semi straight showing she was brought up with etiquette. I'm guessing she found no reason to deny it.
My heart clinched seeing her so scared and small, all the men in the room giving her hungry looks as they took in her torn shirt, but I could do nothing for her.
And it made me angry.
"The same David Makeshield that owned Makeshield Industry." Again a nod.
Recognition hit me. Her wedding was all over the news a few years back. She was a daughter of another prominent family in some other city. David Makeshield was at least twenty years her senior but the companies wanted a union.
King of Desk, with a flurry of papers, leaned forward menacingly.
"Mrs. Makeshield, you are charged with living off the blood and sweat of people less powerful than you. How do you plea?"
Her mouth fell open.
"Tha-that was my husband. I had nothing to do-"
"You married him, correct?" King Desk talked over her. Her eyes growing wider.
"It was an arranged mar-"
"Your choices are death or exile, Mrs. Makeshield. How do you plea?" Making a show of scanning the crowd. "Unless someone will defend her."
She sputtered for a bit, looking every which way. As I drew closer to the door she entered from, all the air seemed to leave her, her body slouching in the chair. No one coming to her rescue.
"Exile." She finally sobbed and my heart dropped.
"Exile it is." King Desk raised a mallet, but paused, looking around the crowd.
What is he waiting on?
"I'll give two cans of beans and peroxide for her!" A man yelled, stepping forward. The crowd cheered and King Desk smiled, lowering the mallet.
My breath caught, pulling my jacket closer around me, eyes landing on the desk by the door.
…No…
The poor girl huddled in her chair, even more terrified than before.
"Another bid?" King Desk looked around.
"A bag of flour and three cans of beans!" Another man stepped forward, eyeing the one he challenged.
"Add a slab of bacon." The first said. The second mans eye twitched as he considered his options. Finally he waved his arm in dismissal and stepped back. The first man smiled and King Desk slammed his mallet on the desk.
"Sold! Leave your goods on the desk as you leave." The winner hefted a bag up, plucked the woman from the chair, and made his way out.
Fight! Fight him! Dam it, Fight HIM!
She seemed to be in shock. I swore under my breath, glancing every which way.
I had to get them out of here now.
The man whistle beside me, and I froze.
"Dam. She was a pretty one." He hit the man beside him. "Let's see what else they got back there."
"Bring me, Larry Smithsen!" King Desk yelled.
Quietly I fallowed the two men to the door and Mr. Smithsen was dragged in by two men. The poor guy looked to be about seventy and barely alive as it is. Squashing the images that flashed of Mason and James, I continued through the door behind the men. Their steps were heavy but excited as they made their way.
My eyes scanning every which way, taking in every piece that could be used as a weapon and window that could be an escape.
Finally we reached a door guarded by one of the mercenaries. Keeping close to the other two men, the mercenary took me and the two men in with one glance then went back to his board stance.
I stepped in, away from the noise of the court room and my heart clinched. All furniture was gone, probably fed to King Desks tower, groups of people littered the floor. Soft whimpers or sobs sounding here and there. Some in pajamas while others in evening gowns but all seemed like they were once part of the high class of the city. To the right of the door another man sat, flipping through a binder with pictures and scribbled all over each page. Some even looked like tabloid articles.
Then I recognized him.
Malcom Jeffreys, the paparazzi King of Gotham.
I was using that word a lot. But it seemed everyone who didn't make anything of themselves before the attack have a King Complex now.
That is how they know who these people are.
I myself had to duck away from him a few times, trying to make a few thousand dollars at my expense. Especially when I first met Mason.
I scanned the room as the two men I tailed in here went straight to a group of women huddled by a wall, whimpering and scooting away as far as they could.
Then I saw them, back right.
Slowly I made my way around the scattered bodies, looking as if I was looking at the different products offered, until I reached them. They were both worn and dirty. Masons once silver hair was caked with mud and debre as well as his clothes. His once favorite green button down was ruined with the mud…
Blood?
As I got closer, I saw it was not mud. James was the same way. Being just shy of sixty, his hair wasn't fully taken over by white hair like his uncle, but he seemed to age ten years in the two days since last I saw him. Sporting a gash across his upper arm that had bled down. Part of his shirt had been ripped to make some kind of make shift bandage.
My blood boiled.
James was half holding Mason, giving the much older man some of his strength as they waited for their fate. I didn't give them time to look at me before I kneeled down and grasped James face, hindering him from speaking.
"Don't react." I hissed in his native tongue. His eyes widened in recognition but it was the only thing he did.
"Not much time." I mumbled as Mason slowly turned his head towards me. He looked so old and tired. Beginning to slowly turn James face every which way, as if I was studying his face, I looked them over as I spoke.
"Act afraid." I hissed again. James pulled Mason closer and to the side, as if he was shielding him from me. I smiled, could always count on James.
"Remember when you found me in the sewers?" Mason nodded, carefully slipping him a razor blade, looking like I was inspecting his hand, which he tucked away in a sleeve. "There will be scuba gear waiting for you. Follow the pipe. Two lefts, then a right and go to the end. It will take you to the river. Use the scuba gear to get across but go a little downstream. There is a fire escape ladder outside the east window. Leave as soon as the guard is distracted. Do not wait for me."
Masons eyes widened, his mouth opening.
"Do. Not. Wait for me." I said again, no room for argument. Seeing James eyes flick behind me, I tensed up.
"I love you." I mouthed at Mason before shoving James away.
"I hope you burn in hell you monsters." I snarled with all the anger I felt. James and Mason stumbled back, real fear on their face when I caught them off guard, and I whipped around. A guard stood there.
I ignored him and continued on. He grabbed my arm and I whirled on him.
"What!" I snapped, but it didn't faze him, keeping my voice low enough so Malcolm didn't hear. "Not allowed to manhandle the accused?"
"What is your name?" He barked, it took everything I had not to go Kung Fu on his ass. It had been years since I did it but I am sure it would come back, like riding a bike.
"Daisy Fucking Duke! Get your dam hands off me!" I turned to yank my arm out of his hands so I wasn't prepared for him to reach up and yank my hood off. Causing me to hiss when he caught a few strands of hair in his grasp.
"Malcom! You recognize her?" My heart dropped as the Paparazzi Kings head shot up, eyes squinting. Then a small smile spread across his face.
"That is Lily O'Tanner, daughter of Mason O'Tanner, owner of Gunggung food chain." He gave me a wink as another guard latched onto my other side. "Nice to see you again Lily."
Who would have thought, a somewhat smart guard.
"Malcom, you son of a-"
"Should have let me take those nude picks like I asked." He winked again before turning back to his book, scribbling on the pages.
"So we have another high and mighty who has been snooping around." The guard snarled darkly. "I am sure Judge Crane will love a little change of pace."
I started to struggle against them when they secured my hands with a tie wrap. About to pull out my Kung Fu bag, when an idea formed. I glanced one last time at Mason as the guards tied my hands together with a tie rap and started dragging me away with my pretend struggles.
"Be ready." I said in their language to Mason and James, letting them think it was all part of the plan, in a mock desperate voice. Which I was about to make it be.
"Stop that." The guard hissed, smacking the back of my head.
Another one with a God Complex.
I struggled halfheartedly as they pulled me through the room. The prisoners too scared to look but the potential buyers giving me elevator eyes before falling in step with the guards. The average pace and the fake struggles gave me time to think, though the guards probably thought I was this weak rich girl but they were going to get the surprise of their lives.
I smiled at the thought.
We paused only for a moment to pick up a scratch paper from Malcolm. Who gave a cheeky grin and a smooch before I was totter out of the room.
The noise from the court room flooded back as soon as we were in the hall. The two men pulled me in the big room just as Crane, which is what the guard called him, called for another prisoner.
His eyes fell on us as they dragged me to the chair.
"That is not Garret Humffries, Mr. Allen."
"I realize that Judge Crane." The first man yelled, throwing me in the chair, with a grunt on my part, after jerking my jacket off. He walked to the desk tower to hand over the slip of paper Malcolm gave him, tucking my jacket under his arm. "Forgive me, but I do not think you would mind a change of pace."
I shrunk back as they walked away, disguising my search of the room with scared desperate eyes. I heard a few snickers so I guess I was doing a good job. Theater finally came in handy. The two men from earlier were back, guessing I was more appealing than anything they saw in the other room and then my eyes landed on…
He stood against a pillar towards the back.
Absently playing, though that is not really a word I would use in talking about anything to do with him, with a string.
Not good.
My heart skipped a beat.
Bane.
Why here! All at once they were all here!
Why now!
This was turning into my worst nightmare.
But for Mason… I would do anything.