Author's Note: Two chapters in one day, check that out :D Anyway, hoped you enjoyed last chapter; just trying to convey that although Bane's a bad villain to those who are actually 'good', he can be a good teacher...so to speak.

City in Pieces

Chapter Seven: Leaving the Room

All that Chance had seen was a glimpse of the actual 'pit'. When Chance took up the crutches, she swung forward to find that although her knee caps were broken, she found some strength to stand on the stronger of the two. She gripped the hilt of wooden stilts, her right hand knuckles whitened at her strong grip. Bane stood at the door to see if she could rise to her feet, just in case that if she did fall, he could, assumed Chance, help her to her feet to try again. Chance quivered at the sudden leave from her mattress, then glanced at it to see the blood curdling where her bloody hand rested when she rested. Bane opened the door and held it toward the wall with one hand, waiting for her to move. When she continued to shake on her clutches, Bane said,

"Have you ever been on these before, or is it hard for you to stand?"

He sounded a tad insincere. Chance shook her head.

"I haven't stood up in three days."

"Perhaps I'm trying you?" he said in that voice again.

"You're patronizing me." Chance said in a low tone.

"A bit." Bane gestured for her to attempt a few steps. She moved; like the last time, she stood on her stronger leg, and hobbled toward him. Bane watched her approach him. He stood, now that she could actually look at him, about a half a foot taller. She was happy that her neck wasn't broken. She had to look directly up, so close to him.

"Good?" asked Bane.

"I'm fine." Chance answered.

"Then ladies first."

Chance passed him out of the door. As she exited the room, her eyes grew wide, impressed, as she gazed around.

Bane called it a pit, but what she saw was an...industry. Underground. Chance's mouth fell open as she stared up at the ceiling to see that the hole was actually a huge, fucking opening to the outskirts of Gotham, though if one peered through it, it would just be one long way to go. The levels into sewer grates had railings, ladders, ropes, and there were people hanging from everywhere, drilling and hammering away. The sewer water rushed through spills and gutters, flew through a machine that was most likely meant to purify it to become drinking water. Chance leaned forward to watch the waterfall; it pooled below in a massive hole to start the process over again. Chance saw several cells like hers, except they were much tighter together and smaller.

Bane touched her shoulder.

"What is this...place...?" said Chance breathlessly, fascinated. She glanced over her shoulder.

"This is headquarters," he said, gazing at the surroundings.

"Headquarters..." Chance muttered. "It's beautiful."

"Mm." Bane agreed quietly. "That's not what I would call it..."

A pause.

Chance smirked at the silence. He patted her shoulder.

"Follow."

"How will I get up the stairs, Bane?"

"You won't have to go up the stairs. Where we're going, you're not going to have walk up."

"So just down?" replied Chance. Bane had turned to her momentarily at her sarcastic response.

She shrugged.

Bane crossed a long bridge, which hovered over the falling rush below. The light hit his shoulders, arms, and back. Chance bit her lower lip as her eyes consumed his retreating figure. She felt her fingers tighten and become sweaty. She cleared her throat and followed him nevertheless. Where they were going, he was right. Across a bridge, through a door, and then they were in an empty room, a medieval architecture that had...

"Why do you have swords and axes against the wall?" questioned Chance, indicating with a sweaty finger.

"It's part of the future. When the fire rises," he said, leading her into the room, "the League of the Shadows will be ready for anything." Bane turned to her. "This is where we regroup once missions have been accomplished. And practice."

"This is what you want me to learn?" Chance said, smiling, hobbling toward the swords.

Her eyes fell on one of the swords that caught her attention. There was a Katana on the very right; the glint of the blade peeked just above the sheathing holster. She smirked. Bane appeared on her left.

"I was taught by a very good teacher," Bane said. He took the Katana off the weapon rack and withdrew the sword. "I've seen it myself; you are very evasive when you fight, and despite your efforts"—he smirked—"I was still able to flatten you."

Chance gave him a look.

"In any event," Bane continued, "you will learn how to use this. Actually, two."

"Two." Chance repeated curiously.

"Duel threat." Bane stated.

Chance nodded.

"But first, before I put a sword in your hands," said Bane, replacing the sword on the rack, "you have to confront your fears."

Chance's spine shivered.

"Now?"

"No." Bane said apathetically. "You can barely stand. Training will come, as I said, in a month; though with your healing process, I'd say in less than three weeks. I'll have the prisoners clean your—"

"Wait, what?" Chance stopped him. "Prisoners? There are prisoners."

"In the cells." Bane indicated the tighter cells outside the room. "Those who try to stand against us...deserve a punishment far more severe than death."

Chance shrugged.

"I'm not above holding prisoners; I was curious why you did have prisoners." Chance smiled.

Bane shook his head, though a chuckle left him as he gestured to follow.

Huh, what do you know. The man actually laughs.