~ Let's Get Coffee ~
Evelyn's legs itched to move, and her brain screamed at her to run away. This person looked like he could squash her head in his palm like a walnut, and no amount of training or skills that she had could match brute strength. But she was not a person who would run away, Evelyn hadn't run from anything since she was a child, and she would be damned if she was going to start then. In fact, so far, Bane was not actually a threat to her, he did not attack, did not call his men to grab her, her just stood there, hands on his plated vest collar, looking at her closely. So she stayed where she was, still, watching him like a wild thing ready to pounce, and reminded herself who she was. Ms. M. The Masked Lady. Murderer, thief, all around crazy bitch, and as she thought on this, as she remembered all that she'd done and who she had beaten and outlived, eventually, a smile was came to her red lips.
"At last we do..." She dragged on her voice. "Sorry, I don't have a name for you yet other than 'Huge Masked Man', and not only is that a mouthful it also seems pretty rude to keep calling you it."
"You may call me Bane, my dear." He spoke more jovially than she had expected, and his voice was unlike anything she had ever heard before, she tried to place his accent to no avail.
"And you may call me anything but 'my dear.'" She grinned, relaxing into herself.
"Does Evelyn suit you?" She saw his eyebrow quirk, and his forehead wrinkle slightly under the strap of the mask. There was a flash of annoyance in her eyes at this.
"I suppose so, there's mot much point in pretending like you don't know who I am is there?"
"And yet you've worn your mask."
"I'd prefer not to have quite everyone in the room knowing who I am, and should I be followed I think it best I keep this mask on."
"Fair enough," she was surprised by how gently he managed to speak through the mask, though his voice was naturally deep and firm, "do take a seat." He gestured to a worn looking metal table with three similarly battered chairs around it, all of different design. Evelyn walked over to the leather and wooden one, with yellow sponge seeping out of the tears in the seat and back. She kept her back straight and crossed her legs, an air of confidence around her as she watched Bane take his own seat across from her. The chair groaned under his weight, but held, and Evelyn thought of how he looked just as imposing seated as he did standing up.
"So, you're the reason that so many people went to so much trouble to find out who I am. Why?" She crossed her arms under her breasts.
"The two wounded men you sent back to me seemed to think they'd told you." He leaned his elbows on his knees, shoulders hunched slightly.
"I want to here it from you." She said, leaning forward slightly.
He considered her for a moment. Looking over her pretty face, half covered by her mask. From everything he'd heard, from the time spent watching her and her actions, and researching her past, he had expected quite as much fire from her. She was brave, of course, and Bane thought she would probably not hesitate to try and harm him now, where upon her arrival he was sure he had seen fear in her eyes. However, to face him down as she did was something rare, and he felt himself before more and more intrigued.
"Alright," he said. She wished she could see his mouth. She didn't like not being able to properly read someone's expressions, so she kept her eyes focused on his. "First and foremost finding out who you are was for the purpose of having something over you. Secondly it was to prove to you what we can do."
She quirked an eyebrow. "Why do you need to prove anything to little old me?"
"Your exploits in this city are famous." He said simply, with a slight shrug of his massive shoulders. "I think you could be very useful at the side of the League of Shadows. At my side."
"I've never heard of the 'League of Shadows' and I've tried my hand at being at the side of super criminals before, and it never turned out too well. What makes you different?"
He held out his arms, and his eyes crinkled. "I am better."
"No. You're not." She replied with sharpness, before leaning forward and putting her hands on the cold surface of the table. "You're bigger, sure. You have more men, perhaps. But Scarecrow was a genius, and when it comes to criminality, no one is better than the Joker was." She spoke in a low and silky tone. She had feared she had gone soft in not dropping Catwoman off the top of Wayne Tower... But no, Evelyn Mason did not go soft. She looked at his eyes. They were some of the darkest eyes she'd ever seen. Not necessarily in colour- but in intensity and depth. You'd get lost if you wandered into those eyes, she thought. "Your motives are different though, aren't they?" Her voice was smooth. "Scarecrow wanted money, power, and widespread fear. Joker wanted anarchy and chaos." She licked her lips. "What do you want, Bane?"
Again, he looked at her a long moment before speaking in that mechanical tinted voice of his.
"For Gotham to have the means to collapse in on itself." His voice went through her slightly and her skin prickled.
Evelyn wasn't entirely sure what he meant by this, and a frown graced her features briefly before it was gone again. When she didn't reply, he spoke.
"And I don't have more men, Miss Mason. I have an army. The League of Shadows, the most powerful force for justice in the world."
"Are you inducting me into the League?"
Bane laughed a low, rumbling laugh that shook his chest, and made his mask hiss.
"Becoming a member of the League of Shadows is far more difficult than that?" He said. Evelyn shrugged and sat back in he chair.
"I never really was one for clubs anyway," she put her feet up on the table, crossed at the ankles, "tried Brownies as a kid. Wasn't for me." She wasn't sure if he looked amused and did not much care.
"As I said before your help would be most welcome. Your position in Gotham city as well as your reputation and obvious skills are something that cannot be denied."
She looked at him closely. "What if I refuse? How do I know you won't just leave me behind?" She questioned.
"You don't know that, you'll just have to trust me. And as for if you refuse, well, we can make the world come after you Doctor."
Evelyn shifted slightly in her chair and licked her lips. 'Gotham collapsing in on itself', it was a tempting offer no doubt. Since Scarecrow and Joker it was like she had been waiting, waiting for the next big thing. That ache in her stomach that made her want to blow something up or jump off a roof or cause mass panic had faded to something dull over the past nine years, she barely noticed it. But it was coming back. She was ready to cause some destruction.
"What would you have me do?" She asked finally. Evelyn only saw the change in his eyes, but under his mask, Bane smiled.
"We know who the Batman is." He said, and her heart leapt. This was big. They'd found something out no one else had got close to, including herself. How?
"Who is it?" She asked quickly, leaning forward again, slightly giddy.
"I cannot tell you yet." Bane replied, "until I know that you are to be trusted."
"Oooh, come on." She whined. "Pretty please." She batted her eyelashes under her mask, "pretty please with whipped cream and a cherry on top, she bit her red bottom lip.
"Not yet." He flatly replied.
"Spoil sport." She sat back again, and Bane noticed the fact that she seemed to find it difficult to keep still.
"Your high position in society can be useful," he carried on, "access to people and so forth."
"I can't go back to that life for long, I can't risk anyone else knowing who I am. I need to abandon it." She said quickly.
His eyebrows rose. "So our leverage over you is useless?"
"Not useless, but less effective than you may have hoped." She smiled and rested her hands on her stomach. "But I will help you, because watching this city eat itself just sounds like so much fun."
"Would you be sympathetic to the cause if we did not know your identity?"
"Perhaps. But then again, I would much rather the big bad guys in the city knew who I was then the good little people."
"Why is that?"
She'd said too much, and mentally scolded herself.
"My reasons are my own." She shortly replied. There was a slight quiet between them again, and Evelyn found herself not liking him to look at her so closely. She wasn't entirely sure why. She was somewhat relieved when he spoke again.
"I have many questions for you, but I shan't ask them here."
"Good, discussing dastardly plans in a sewer cistern is a first for me." She wrinkled up her nose. "Y'ever heard of Glade? Bunch of flowers?" She stood. "Might brighten the place up."
To her complete and utter surprise, Bane held is hand cross the table to her for her to shake. She wasn't used to those kind of manners from super-criminals.
"Was a pleasure. We'll be in touch." He said. Evelyn looked at his hand, her demeanor wavering slightly in her shock, before taking the offered hand. She resisted a wince at his grip. He took her hand ever so gently, but his strength still meant that his hand engulfing hers hurt somewhat. He let go, and she sent him a nod.
"Don't be too long, sweetie. I like you." Her eyebrow quirked, and she smiled, before turning on her heel toward the stairs.
It was only when she once again mounted her motorcycle that she started to properly consider her encounter with Bane. It just felt to easy. He'd divulged so much to her on their first meeting; it just didn't seem right. Although, he hadn't told her everything. She believed him when he said he'd found out who the Batman was, and he didn't let her know that. Perhaps he really did just want her help, and that he told her what he told her to ensure she was on side. Perhaps she was even more infamous than she thought herself.
She laughed to herself, 'impossible.'
A voice in the back of her mind told her it was all too good to be true, and history had taught her that when something was too good to be true, it probably wasn't.
Two and a Half Weeks Later
Evelyn moved herself back into one of the nicer neighborhoods for the brief time she had agreed to carry on with her 'normal' life. She would do what needed to be done in terms of what Bane asked if her, and tie up a few loose ends before entirely devoting herself to the cause. There was no denying that Evelyn had a penchant for chaos and destruction, as well as the people that caused chaos and destruction, and as she had said to Crane so many years ago, she wanted to watch the city burn rather than be left in the cinders.
The rain came down heavily, beating on the windows and bouncing in thick droplets of the pavement. Evelyn had always enjoyed to watch the rain from the window. Partly it was the noise and the smell it left behind, partly it was the thoroughly amusing sight of people sloshing through puddles and getting their nice trousers soaked. She was eating Cheerios at kitchen table in her most comfortable blue robe as she followed the water running down the glass, and saw the top of a tree across the road shake violently in the blustery weather. She found herself considering how it would look if someone were to walk in at that moment. So normal. Like an actual, normal human being.
"I do like Cheerios." She said out loud to herself. She took a large mouthful, and eyed the letter on the table before her. Calligraphic writing on pristine paper, her name printed on the front, grandly. It was an invitation to a charity gala she had no choice but to attend, for the purpose of refurbishing the medical wing of Arkham Asylum. It sounded hellish to her, but it would look far too odd if she didn't attend.
She unscrewed the bottle of Lamb's resting in the middle of the table beside the Tropicana and flower vase, and checked her watch, which read 11:59am in angry red lines. Evelyn sighed and rested her elbow on the table, keeping an eye her watch and tapping her table rhythmically. 54, 55, 56, 57, 58, 59. 12:00pm!
With a grin, she poured a quantity of the rum over her Cheerios, and mixed them together, before taking a mouthful.
"Mmm, like a crunchy White Russian."
She considered that this was probably a little bit less normal, and sat back in her chair, thinking out her alibi for her absence from work, and topping up her cereal when the bowl depleted too much. This was until a heavy knock on her door broke her from her reverie, and she stood and headed over to the door, absentmindedly touching the knife strapped to her thigh before opening it.
There stood a large man in motorbike helmet, and leather gear, and Evelyn knew who it was right away, thanks to the sound of the mask and his build unlike any other. Water dripped off the shining helmet and seemed to soak the leather trousers and jacket he wore.
"Good afternoon, I didn't order pizza." She stepped back and let him in. He didn't doesn't speak as he stepped passed her into her living room and removed his helmet. Evelyn didn't worry about her mask; it seemed rather irrelevant given the circumstances. Still, she couldn't help but feel slightly exposed in her nightwear and lack of her usually painstakingly applied makeup. He set his helmet down on her kitchen table, and unzipped his wet jacket.
"My apologies for dropping in on you unannounced." He said with the utmost politeness, and Evelyn couldn't tell whether or not he was joking. She wasn't sure she'd ever get used to that voice either, she couldn't decide if it was good to hear or just strange. She still couldn't place is accent.
"Not a problem at all. I'm guessing you're not her for Cheerios though." She quirked an eyebrow and took his jacket from his hands, before laying it over the back of her kitchen chair. He wore a white vest under his coat, un-plated this time, so she could see the defined and bulky muscles of his chest against the thin material. Christ, he was built like a fucking house.
Bane noticed her looking at him, and wondered if she was frightened by his presence. If she was, she didn't show it, and it was even more difficult for her to disguise her true emotions without her eye-mask. He noted her lack of makeup, just the faded grey on her eyelids and the tint of pink to the outside of her lips. She didn't look unpleasant without it, he thought.
"I came here to ask you a question." He said, and she sat down at the kitchen table, offering him a seat with her hand, which he took. The chair creaked ominously.
"Shoot."
"Do you by any chance have access to Arkham Asylum security?" He asked, eyeing the bottle of rum beside the milk on the table.
"Some. But I'm just a Doctor, I have access to it as far as I can order security guards to open doors for me. It's all electronic you see, split up." She raised her eyebrow. She did that a lot. "Why?" She slyly asked with a smile.
"Is it possible for you to get access to all the security?" He didn't answer her question.
"It's possible... I'm almost as good a thief as I am a psychiatrist. As I'm sure you've found out already I'm pretty high up. But if I got hold to all the security codes it'd be a fucker to actually y'know, open any doors without about fifty people noticing." She picked up her bowl, and took it over to the sink.
He watched her rinse out the dregs of the bowl.
"Would it be possible to open every cell door at once?" He asked. She paused in her actions very suddenly, and put the bowl down in the sink. She turned to face him and there was no amusement or sarcasm on her face.
"You wouldn't want to open every cell at once." She said firmly, and crossed the kitchen to sit back down at the table again. "Arkham isn't just criminals. It houses some of the most mentally deranged in the world. I'm talking child rapists, Bane." She sat close to him, and leaned forward slightly as she spoke, looking him dead in the eye. "I'm talking people who would kill women and then hang their bodies in their houses for days, people who would pin down a person and physically eat them alive- people like that need to be locked up. They don't have allegiances, or goals, they don't think for themselves." She licked her lips, and did not break eye contact. When Bane didn't reply she spoke again. "If I'm going to help you out I need you to listen to my advice when I know more about something than you."
Eventually, he nodded in consent.
"Alright," He said, "that seems fair."
"Good." She replied, and leaned back again. "Now, was that all you wanted?"
Her demeanor changed very quickly, she was once again much more easy and relaxed, as if they were two friends having a conversation over breakfast, although this was so far from being the case.
"I believe so yes," he stood, and the chair seemed to sigh with relief, "is there anything you feel I should know?" He picked up his coat and shook it slightly.
"Just that I've got this charity gala in a few weeks," she shrugged, "fancy being my date? I'd bet you look great in a tux." She smirked, and he found himself slightly amused.
"I will be seeing you soon." He sent her a polite nod again, before letting himself out of the house.
He left the smell of leather in Evelyn's nose.
Evelyn walked the aisles of the boutique, running her hand over the different materials and eyeing the various dresses and outfits carefully. She'd never been too interested in expensive clothes, but a beautiful dress could catch her eye and make her swoon, so she didn't limit herself to only the most fancy of places. However, any clothes shop was ridiculously tedious. There was always some patronizing girl barely out of her teen years to come and try to 'help' her out and the music was an assault on the ears. She found a lovely black fitted dress that would cap her shoulders and meet her knees. The next purchase was a pair of high, shining black shoes, and finally she found herself in lingerie, looking for a nice pair of stockings.
She happened to glance up in that moment, at saw across from her a girl she hadn't seen in years. Natasha Brown. Quite possibly the biggest fucker Evelyn had ever met, and that was saying something.
Several Years Ago
Lisa Locke tucked her hands firmly in her pocket and kept her eyes trained on the floor of the hallway as she walked by a large group of girls and boys. Her unkempt mousy brown hair bounced slightly round her ears, and she rubbed her hands together in the pocket of the deliberately oversized hoodie she wore to cover her chunky body, it was faded and grey, and she sort of hoped it would camouflage her. She focused on the squeak of her sneakers, started to count the trodden down gum she stepped over. 3, 4...
"Heeey, Lisa." It didn't work. Apparently pretending that you're invisible does not actually make it so. Natasha stood in her path, giggling friends at her side, boys leaning against the lockers and sniggering. She had a good half a foot of height on Lisa, and was pristine from her perfect hair to her fashionable and spotless shoes. She wore far too much makeup, but her face was undoubtedly pretty, and she looked much older than her young age of sixteen. Lisa looked a bit younger than her age, both because of her frame and her youthful face.
"Hi, Natasha." She said quietly, and straightened her glasses on her nose uncomfortably.
"I was just uh- wondering Lisa," she sent glances at her laughing friends with a smirk, "if you'd ever considered like, braces?" Her friends giggled uncontrollably, and there were choruses of, 'you can' say that!' and 'you're so bad!' Lisa felt herself blush with embarrassment and anger, and self-consciously closed her lips over her front teeth which were a little too big for her mouth and stuck out slightly. "I don't wanna sound like a bitch like, but, y'know, it could make a big difference."
Lisa looked at the floor, "fuck off Natasha." The boys 'ooh'd' and Lisa went to walk passed, but the girls closed in, not allowing her to continue down the hallway.
"Hey, you can't talk to me like that you little fucking weirdo," Natasha let down her guise of mock kindness now.
Lisa tried to push herself through the blockade of girls weakly, but they stopped her, and laughed hysterically, as did the boys. Lisa felt herself become slightly upset, but would not cry. She stepped back.
"Just let me pass, please?" Her upset was evident in her voice.
"Aww, gonna cry?" Natasha stuck out her bottom lip in mocking. "Jail-bird's kid." Her voice was venomous, and her friends 'ooh'd' again like she'd made some terribly witty remark. Lisa's eyes darkened and she looked up at Natasha. "No reply? I thought you were meant to be smart, huh?" She shoved her shoulder slightly. "Not quite as tough as your daddy, huh?"
It happened so quickly no one knew what was happening. Lisa had hold of the front of Natasha's shirt, and with strength she herself didn't know she had, she shoved her back against the locker with a loud bang that echoed through the hallway. Lisa didn't really control her actions much for the next five minutes or so.
Lisa barely heard the berating she received from the headmaster, she barely heard her mother crying as he recounted what had happened. She just looked at her cracked knuckles, and the blood drying there and listened to the ticking of the clock. She wasn't sure at what point she'd stopped repeatedly punching Natasha in the face, but she knew that when she'd finally been dragged off her by her friends, Natasha's face was barely recognizable.
Part of her thought after that day things might get a bit better. That maybe, somehow, being considered a psycho would make people more likely to leave her alone. Of course this was not the case. Being considered a psycho meant that it was everyone's daily mission to see if they could push her to the brink of cracking again. It also became Natasha and her friends goal in life to make her as miserable as possible. Be that leaving road kill in her locker or leaving chewing gum on her chair before she sat down.
Lisa Locke hated school.
Evelyn shook off the memory of her previous self as she found herself gripping the stockings in her hands tightly. She could kill Natasha now, and get away with it. She could start abandoning her life early and choke her with a pair of tights or just flat out beat her to death. She could, but that did not mean that she would.
So, Evelyn picked up the stockings, turned her back on Natasha, and took them to the counter, biting back her rage and smiling serenely at the girl on the counter. Torso-Man was going to get it bad when she got home.
Evelyn hated little flashes of her past on the rare occasions that they showed up in her life. There was a time when it hurt, but as time went on it just made her angry. It made her angry to remember how weak she once was, how she let people walk all over her for so long before realizing that she was worth so much more than that. She recalled when she started to bleach her hair, and put on makeup, and her teeth didn't look quite so big for her mouth anymore. Her body evened out, she got breasts, she got a waist, her skin cleared up, she started wearing contacts. People were nice to her. But by that point it was too late. Everybody likes a pretty face and Evelyn did not have time for people who only liked a pretty face. As she beat the face of Torso-Man that night, she didn't allow herself to think about Lisa Locke, because she was Evelyn Mason.
Over the coming days, Bane's visits to Evelyn's home became more and more often, to the point where she knew that if she heard that heavy clunking knock on the door that it would be him. At times, their conversations would stray outside work, and both were surprised by the other continually. Evelyn came to notice how very well read and intelligent he seemed to be, and wondered when he'd had time to study anything. Equally, from Evelyn Bane had expected intelligence of course, but when she wasn't joking or mocking flirtatiousness, she spoke like no one else he had ever met before. She articulated herself like a scholar at times, and Bane in turn wondered when she'd had the time to educate herself outside the science of the psyche. The mask became less and less strange until it did not faze her at all, and his voice became softer on the ear. Still couldn't work out his accent, but she found herself enjoying it. She also became better at reading mood by his eyes, a handy skill to have, she thought, when the man was capable of squashing her.
Evelyn returned to work to much sympathy and many taps on the shoulder, but was somewhat glad to return to her patients and get back into her work. That about her was not fake- her study of the human mind and her curiosity for madness and criminality was entirely true. It was one of the few things that she would miss, but she somehow got the feeling that she would be spending plenty more time around criminals as Bane's plans progressed.
Evelyn never sought out Bane, it was always him that dropped in on her, but over the past days she had been looking into the security at Arkham. The flaws, the strengths, the people who knew the codes and the people who knew nothing, so she decided it was time for her to take a trip down underground again. She did not know exactly which of men knew her identity and which did, but still she assumed her black attire and mask. She received no trouble from the guards of course, and eventually arrived at the gated base of Bane's operation. However, upon arrival, she spotted a very unwelcome visitor.
On the bridge stood Selina Kyle, of course in her Catwoman apparel, hands behind her back and speaking to the henchman Evelyn recognized a Barsad. He was the only one she knew by name, as Bane spoke often of him.
Evelyn opened the gate, and did not mince words.
"What's this bitch doing here?" She asked, crossing her arms. Catwoman eyed Evelyn closely as she stepped forward, and Evelyn saw the flicker of fear in her eyes, and noted the not quite healed cup above her lip that she had tried to cover with makeup. Catwoman stood steadfast, and crossed her arms also.
"She is gathering very important information for us," Barsad explained, voice calm and even, hand resting delicately on his weapon.
"We're on the same side." Catwoman's voice was smooth and feigned confidence, but she had an edge of beseeching, as if she were trying to appeal to Evelyn's sense of 'unity.'
Evelyn gave a cruel laugh that shook her chest. "You're not on a side Cat. Don't try to fucking act like you are, you're not that good an actress." She stepped forward a few paces, her boots clunking, so she were only a few feet from Catwoman, who did not shy away, but whose throat moved as she swallowed. Evelyn leaned closer, as if she were going to kiss the Cat. "Just remember what I said to you the last time we met. And know that the same applies for betraying my associates." The tone of her voice had lowered, and was silken.
"I'm not afraid of you." Catwoman replied, looking Evelyn dead in the eye bravely. Evelyn chuckled, and flicked open her blade, watching the Cat a she flinched at the sound of the scraping metal. She had not noticed that Evelyn even had the knife in her hand. Evelyn laughed manically, waving the knife around.
"I thought you weren't afraid of me!" She exclaimed, jumping slightly on the spot. Catwoman looked angry, but did not move. "Or is it this you're afraid of?" She waved the sparkling pocketknife in front of her face. "Afraid I'll hurt that pretty face of yours?" She spoke with poison, and her face flickered between utter amusement and deadly seriousness.
"The Joker really rubbed off on you."
Catwoman's fist flew toward her gut, but Evelyn saw the blow coming, and stopped her fist shy of her stomach by gripping her wrist tightly, her superior strength better that Cat's reflexes.
"Now now," Evelyn pulled her forward, hand still firmly holding her wrist bruisingly, and bringing it to her side so that Selina was pressed against her and Evelyn's blade was at her neck, "no need to lose your temper now, sweetie. And yeah, the Joker did rub off on me. Wanna see a few tricks?" Catwoman tore away her hand, and Evelyn allowed the other woman to step back, smiling, and flipping her knife closed. "Let's get coffee sometime."
Catwoman looked at her venomously, before stepping round Evelyn and making her way out. Evelyn watched her leave, before making her way up the stairs. She had not noticed until she almost ran into the brick wall of a man at the top that Bane had watched the whole thing unfold.
"Oh, hi." She said brightly, and he did not reply. She couldn't tell if he was angry or not, he just turned and stepped away so she could get to the makeshift office space. "You can't trust her, you know."
Evelyn didn't know why she noticed what he was wearing every time she saw him. She supposed it was because it always surprised her that he could get clothes to fit him properly, but guessed that there were men much larger than him through fat and not muscle. On this particular day, he wore his usually cargo trousers and a very fitted long sleeved black shirt, every muscle defined as if he were just wearing a vest again.
She decided not to sit down.
"I know that I cannot trust her. That's why she knows very little." His eyes crinkled at the corners. "You are still my number one lady." He said zestfully. Evelyn loudly laughed at this.
"Oh, I like it when you have a sense of humour," she grinned.
"Now, I must admit my surprise at your show of loyalty when speaking to the Cat Lady." He sat himself down at the table, and continued to write something in a language Evelyn couldn't recognize from where she stood. He didn't hold his pen properly, but his writing came out beautifully.
She snorted, and leaned on the table in front of him. He looked up at her questioningly.
"Don't mistake me respecting your cause for loyalty. Don't forget that I've had little choice in this. But yes, I'm a woman of my word, I defend who I'm working with, but if you gave me reason to let you get hurt, I'd let you get hurt." She smirked, and looked him up and down. "Although seeing someone try to hurt you could be pretty funny."
He seemed to examine her a moment after she spoke.
"What was it you came here for?"
"Ah, of course," she stood, "I have some information about Arkham Security."
Soon enough, the day of the charity gala arrived, and Evelyn found herself observing her reflection in the full length mirror, with a cloud of blue-grey cigar smoke making it's way from the ashtray on her dresser, and her third scotch sitting beside it. As she turned to observe herself from all angles, she thought that she would much rather face a hundred armed goons than undergo a night with the rich and elite of Gotham. Although, she did believe she rather shone with her outfit choice. The modest black dress that reached her knees and clung to her curves, accenting her hips, waist and breasts, and smoothing out any unwanted lump, although they had decreased of late thanks to her upping the intensity of her training. She wore the lovely delicate stockings she had purchased with a classy seam up the backs of the legs, and on her feet placed the shining heels, pristine and perfect. Evelyn was not usually one to wear her hair up, but on this night she did, pinning the unruly blonde curls onto the back of her head so that they formed a high and messy bun.
Evelyn Mason looked good.
Her night was spent schmoozing, and flirting, and smiling through her teeth at exactly the kind of people that she would petrol bomb. But on this night, she shook their hands, asked about their children, pretended like she was one of them, and did a very good job of it. She sat at the table she was sharing with a few other people, legs crossed, champagne in her fingers as she vaguely listened to the conversation around her. They were talking about Bruce Wayne. Fucking Bruce Wayne.
"Well I heard that he suffered an accident and his face was horribly disfigured, doesn't want to be seen in public anymore." The woman speaking was only a little older than Evelyn but spoke as if she were a much older woman, with an extremely affected high-class accent.
"That's just a silly rumour, Maven." The man sitting beside her replied, in that equally irritating accent. "The man simply got tired of his celebrity and became a recluse."
Evelyn fought back a laugh, and decided that she would have at least some form of fun.
"Actually, neither of you are right," they looked surprised that she was finally contributing to conversation. "My a friend of a friend used to work in his kitchen, told me exactly what happened." She spoke as if she were telling some great secret, smirk on her lips, and leaning forward on one elbow. They leaned forward eagerly.
"Well, what was it?" One of the men urged. Evelyn bit the inside of her mouth.
"Keep this under your hats," she spoke quietly, "but he was involved in some, ahem, questionable activity when it came to his," she lowered a voice to a whisper, "sexual preferences." Their faces looked a mixture of shocked, disgusted and fiendishly delighted. "Apparently he was 'cause pleasuring himself and uh..." She did the motion of wrapping something around her neck in the air, and they gasped. "From what I heard, he started to practice these illicit activities at certain places in the Narrows," she looked at their stupid, incredulous faces, and wondered how far she could push it, "got caught paying a nineteen year old Filipino boy to hit him with a riding crop," she held up her hands, "allegedly."
They all looked thoroughly surprised and acted as if they were thoroughly repulsed by the information and not, as they in fact were, irreverently excited by the idea that Bruce Wayne was in fact some sort of sexual deviant. Evelyn had to excuse herself for the bathroom so she could let out her laughter thoroughly before returning. She was asked to dance a few times, and accepted a couple, and eventually, finally, it was time for her to leave. She practically ran across the grand hall of the hotel, but thought it would be near impossible in the shoes she wore.
It was raining again when she stepped outside, and she took the first cab that came her way. Not bothering to shield her hair from the pouring water as she waited for it to pull up and slipped in the bag.
"34 Castle Way, please." She crossed her legs, and saw the driver's green take a good look at her thigh in the rearview mirror. She could teach him a few manners, but the copious glasses of champagne on top of her pre-battle scotches meant that home was a much more attractive prospect at that time. She leaned her head on the glass and watched the street roll by outside, that dull ache forming behind her eyes that said she had probably had one too many, and that it was beddy-byes time for this super villain. She noticed that the driver was driving the long way to her house rather than the quicker as they began to enter the Narrows. The houses got more shoddy, the shops got a lot cheaper, and the streetlights were more often broken than not.
She lifted her head from the glass to look at the driver.
"Can you do a U-turn here man? I just wanna get home quick." The driver didn't reply, and as her suspicion intensified and she went to sit forward, her quickly turned the wheel so that the car swerved, and her head smacked into the window painfully, rendering her dazed and in pain.
Evelyn felt her hand grab the leather of the drivers seat for support, but could only vaguely see the white of her flesh and the back of the seat through her blurred vision, the pain shooting through her head like someone were shoving a hot poker in her ear. She was dragged from the car, she felt the hands under her armpits, and her knees scrape the pavement, stockings ripped, skin grazed. The the fresh air helped her to slightly regain her senses, but before she could make any action to move, she felt the unmistakable sensation of a needle sticking into the side of her neck, and the cold of whatever was inside it flowing through her veins, obscuring her vision once more and making each of her limbs feel heavy.
"Sorry, Miss M." The next form of pain came hard and vast, a blade sunk in below her ribs, and was pulled out again, leaving her to cry out in straggled pain and reach blindly around to try and strike her attacker, her weak fist finding only the back of a leg, and making no difference.
She scratched around on the pavement, lifting her head she was sure was turning to cement and trying her best to look around. All she knew was that she was in the Narrows, but any monument or marker to her location melted away. She felt a little drool on her chin, humiliatingly, and did her best to wipe it away.
No. Blackness. Arms won't move. So tired. Sleep.
Bane lifted the woman easily in his arms. She was heavier than he had expected, built far more solidly, her womanly curves masking the muscle underneath, but still it took no effort to hold her head in the crook of his arm and her legs behind the knees. He knew it was bound to happen eventually that she would be caught unprepared and harmed, but he did not think it would be quite so soon. It was odd to see this woman, who, granted, he had only known for a short space of time, looking so very helpless. She'd turned onto her stomach, and her body was stretched from wasted effort. One of the men he'd had keeping an eye her that night had reported to him that she had been stabbed, and he had acted quickly.
Her head was bruised where it had suffered some trauma, and her limbs were somewhat paralyzed from the after effects of the drug still, but of course the biggest problem was the wound below her ribs, the blood from which now soaking the dress she wore.
He'd never seen her look so peaceful, than in that moment in his arms, head lolled back, neck exposed, eyes closed gently, and her arms not ready to grab a weapon or throw a punch. But the lack of colour from her already pale face did concern him somewhat, her lips were now close to grey and seemed thinner, and from what he had noticed on a few occasions, they were usually rather pink and plump.
Eventually, they were back at base, where he set his men to work on removing her dress and attending to her wound, while he watched from behind, arms crossed while she whinced in a drug induced sleep.
This is probably the longest chapter, I hope it doesn't jump around too much for you. Thanks for reading.
- L.S
