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Art Is Never Finished
"Are is never finished, only abandoned." Leonardo da Vinci
Blinking awake Blake sat up in bed in one smooth motion, his covers pooling around his naked body as he took in his surrounding and opened his senses up to seek whatever had roused him...three hours before he would have normally woken up at. The obvious culprits were Eames or Buffy, but he was pretty sure Buffy had stayed with Eames during the night and Eames was no more a morning person than he was. There were no scratching or whining noises coming from the door...oh.
Lips curving in a smile Blake snuggled back under his covers, his eyes already closed when there was a light series of knocks on his bedroom door. Old code that let him know his twin was there and was requesting entrance. A code he now had to answer as Blake twisted around to tap out the return code on his headboard to let Arthur know that he knew he was there and was awake. Aka Arthur could enter because he was alone and not doing something his brother would rather not see him doing.
He had just enough time to lower his arm and straighten his covers before the door opened, Arthur entering without making a sound.
Even in the darkness, with the drawn black curtains keeping most of the weak morning light out, Arthur moved confidentially across the room to the other side of the bed. And pulling up the covers Blake's brother slid under them join him, shifting across the mattress until they were facing each other with Blake leaning in at the same time that Arthur did so that their foreheads touched.
It was something they'd done as long as they could remember. Slept this way. Even when they'd been old enough and had the option of having their own beds they'd often ended up sharing one anyway. Before they'd come to this home and this family they'd slept soundly only when they could feel each other's skin against theirs and the other's every breath. Reminding them that the other was alive and with them no matter how hostile their world had seemed. They were still together. They were not alone.
They'd even speculated that perhaps they'd been doing it since the womb, though there was no way to know for sure. Their mother had been dead for the majority of their lives now...and odds were she hadn't had the money to spend on doctor's visits even if the necessity of that had occurred to her.
"Got an earlier flight I see." He wasn't surprised. He was pretty sure that Eames had been texting Arthur nonstop since he'd found out about Bane. The traitor.
A sound of agreement. "I ran into a friend of Grandfather's at the airport. He offered me a ride on his jet."
Ah, that made sense. Their grandfather had many friends. And even more people who wanted to curry the man's favor by doing his family a favor.
"Shouldn't you be in my guestroom rewarding your boy toy for being a snitch?"
"He's sleeping with this bitch named Buffy currently."
Laughing, Blake patted in the vicinity of his brother's shoulder in mock sympathy. "There, there. He loves you more, you know. Heck, she loves you more."
"She does. Though Grandfather's her favorite."
"Because she lives to be contrary. And knows he's a cat person."
A low sound of amusement. Arthur was a cat person too. So was Blake, come to that. Not that they'd ever tell Buffy that. To say she'd hold it against them was a massive understatement. And she knew how to hold a grudge.
Relaxing for a minute of two Blake was thinking that maybe they were actually going to go to sleep when Arthur asked him what was going on with Bane. No bullshit.
As if he was dumb enough to think that his brother would let him get away with bullshitting him. And wouldn't keep on him until he got the answers he was looking for if Blake were stupid enough to try.
"He's under my skin. Fuck is he under my skin. It's never been like this. I could blame it on our chemistry, because fuck knows we've got that in spades...but it's more than that. More than his body, mind, the way he makes me want-no, the way he fucking compels me to just try and figure him out. To best him. It's like he knows all my buttons and keeps smacking them all at once with those damn turkey platter hands of his."
"So it's not just that you're hoping that those hands are indicative of other body parts then."
"If only."
A long, drawn out sigh indicated what Arthur thought about that. Which somehow compelled Blake to try and explain better, even though he sounded stupid to his own ears even as he said it.
"He's like a half finished work by a favorite master. You can see the big picture, all that it could have been, and you ache for what was lost by it being abandoned midway. That it was never allowed to be what it was meant to be. And even though I know, intellectually, that I can't complete it, would only ruin it if I tried...fuck if I don't want to take a shot at it. At him."
"That analogy doesn't work." Arthur, being Arthur, responded. "People aren't created by one person, but by everyone that comes into contact with them. That's why the majority of people are such fucking messes. We're all always works in progress."
"Art is never finished."
"Only abandoned." Arthur finished, Blake somehow able to hear or sense that his brother was rolling his eyes at him. "Which means if you want to have the last brush stroke on him, so to speak, you'll have to kill him directly afterwards. And you know I don't like digging in the dirt."
"You'd bury him? Seriously? Have you not seen how big he is?"
"I was being sarcastic. Of course we could come up with a hundred better ways to dispose of his body. Thousands even, depending on how long I have to come up with better disposal methods."
True. Very true. Especially if the rest of their family got involved.
But back to what they'd been talking about before. "I think a lot of people have tried to finish or make Bane their own. And they all obviously failed miserably."
"And you've lost your mind and want to join their ranks?"
"I think I have to try."
"Why?"
"Because better I fail...then spend years being haunted by the what ifs. So we'll both compete to see who can figure the other out first while having really amazing sex. Until we both fail miserably." Blake worked up a small smile. "But at least we'll have had that really good sex first."
"It better be more than just really good given what you're risking."
"I'll do my best."
"And what if you succeed? What if you find the man behind the masks?"
To say he had a healthy ego was somewhat of an understatement. Blake knew that. And he was actually a little flattered that Arthur thought that he could do what no one else before him had done. At least as far as he knew. And...well, iit was unlikely that anyone who knew things Bane didn't want the world to know had been allowed to live very long with their knowledge.
"If I find the man...I'll have to wing it. Cause fuck if I know."
A telling silence.
"Fuck. We have the worst taste in men."
Blake nodded in absolute agreement. "Yup."
Another sigh. "I looked into the heist in Vienna. It reads like a very well-informed copycat. Too well informed for my tastes. Whoever it was knew too much that couldn't be learned from police reports or educated guesses. I'm having some contacts look in on the son."
Shit. "You think he got out."
"He's been in his latest prison for eight years. He should have figured out how to get out by now."
True. Or at least he and Arthur would have managed it long ago. But the Black Tiger had never been complimentary when it came to his only known biological child. In the master thief's books his son had never been anything but a complete and total failure to him. Which, given the man setting the bar, only meant so much. The Tiger had expected perfection every time. Or else.
"Would he take up the mantle though? The bastard left him to rot in Russian prisons for life. On top of letting him take the blame for some of his heists."
"We'll know more once Alexi gets back to me. But if it is Roman, he might come looking for us."
That was true. The question of why though...that was the real question. Neither of them knew if Roman even knew of their existence. Few had at the time, and most of them were now dead, imprisoned, or wouldn't waste their time speaking to Roman if he could even find them. But there were a few who could be bought easily, though how much they could tell the Black Tiger's son was questionable. Roman, if it was Roman, would probably come to Gotham regardless though. And would want confirmation of his father's death at the very least.
Arthur sighed again, then pulled away. "I'm going to go kick Buffy out unless you want me to stay."
"Nah. Go get your sex while you can. Who knows what tomorrow will bring, after all."
"Carpe Diem."
And on that note Arthur got off the bed and headed off towards the door to let himself out, Blake going back to snuggling under the covers even though he was pretty sure he wouldn't be getting back to sleep any time soon now. Dammit.
)
As much as one might seek to control every aspect of their life, and succeed in Bane's case, traffic was often one of those unavoidable obstacles. And irritants. Especially at times like this when they were surrounded on all sides by other vehicles, having not moved so much as an inch in the last ten minutes. It was also becoming extremely tempting to take down the license plate of the car immediately to his right. The young men within deserved to be beaten, even possibly being put to death for their taste in music alone. If one could even call the noise coming from the metal structure music. Bane certainly didn't. And really he'd be doing the world a service.
Looking over in Barsad's direction Bane was tempted to make a comment about sound pollution and how arresting someone for it had to be easy enough that even the most dimwitted of cops could complete the task, but Bane noted that his second was deep in thought and stayed quiet instead.
That he was involved with a cop who would undoubtedly take offense to slurs against his fellow officers might have also played a part in the decision, loathed as Bane was to admit it. Even in the safety of his own mind.
And thinking of his cop Bane decided to see what the other man was up to as he put his ear piece in place and then placed the call.
"Hey, Sexy."
It was disconcerting to be greeted that way...but he liked it, too.
"Robin. Are you busy?"
"Good timing on your part, actually. I'm killing time outside the courthouse at the moment. I don't think they're going to get to me today. Too bad, so sad. What are you up to?"
"Stuck in traffic. What case were you called in for?"
"It's from before you came to Gotham. The little shit's got lawyers with lawyers and so much family money a quarter of this city could choke on it. There were issues too since he tried to take advantage of his step, step father's diplomatic immunity even though the bastard's American, born and bred. But I got him cold and his family knows it. Of course the bribery charges were greatly reduced at their hearings too."
"They were foolish to try and pay you off."
"Yeah, but it's what they do. How they live. They don't know another way."
This was true. And why they should all be put down for the sake of humanity as a whole.
"So going to or coming from somewhere? I hope coming, though you denied me that pleasure last time."
Ignoring the latter Bane stated that he had been on his way to his lawyer, ironically enough, and was about to explain that it was in regards to his forged Rembrandt when his ear filled with other commentary.
"Are you fucking kidding me?! Right in front of the fucking courthouse you stupid, idiotic, disgrace to thieves everywhere? That purse can't possibly hold anything worth this, just look at her clothes, you fucking asshat! Don't you even think about-FUCK!"
The sound of pounding feet filled Bane's ears, followed by shouts, a couple screams, and Bane's cop stating that he was a police officer and to freeze.
Judging from the cursing, orders for people to get out of his way, and the feet hitting pavement Bane assumed that the purse snatcher, while stupid enough to go hunting in a place often filled with law enforcement, had enough sense to realize that his one hope was that Robin was a typical cop. Out of shape and prone to giving up easily.
Bane's little bird was nothing of the sort.
"Stop running, you stupid, Fuckhead! You really think you can outrun me? I'd be able to catch you even if you had a fucking city block lead. Dumbass!"
Amused, Bane spoke and hoped he'd be heard over the sounds of traffic and the pedestrians he'd imagine Robin and the thief were running through like a living obstacle course. "You swear too much, My Robin."
"Get fucking used to it!"
"Robin-"
"Oh come on! Ma'am, are you all right? Yeah? Good. I'll be right back. You sonofabitch! She's like seventy!"
"I'm only sixty three!"
"Sorry! And pardon my language!"
"So to her you apologize."
"She's old. And probably someone's grandmother. You don't curse around grandmothers. You-fuck I shouldn't have gone to that buffet for lunch. Fuck it."
He was about to ask when kind of buffet, somehow he doubted salad or other remotely nutritious offerings had been available, when Robin made a sound of victory followed by the thud and smack of human bodies colliding.
"Gotcha, Assehole. Run front me, Fucker. You are so under a fucking arrest."
Bane listened to his Robin chew the thief out in between reading him his rights and handing the 'little fucker' over to some uniformed cops since he needed to head back to the courthouse in case he was called. He'd fill out the paperwork later. And he fucking hated paperwork.
Content to listen, Bane waited until Robin was on his way back to the courthouse before speaking.
"I assume you are uninjured?"
"A little road rash. Nothing worth mentioning."
"Road rash?"
"Yeah, you know...the few layers of skin you lose when you slide on concrete."
"Clean your wounds well."
"Yes, Mummy."
"Don't call me that."
"You would prefer Daddy? Cause I gotta tell you, that's not one of my kinks."
"Nor mine."
"Excellent." There was a definite smile in his Robin's voice with his next words. "I should probably warn you that my twin is in the city and he isn't inclined to like you. He's also inclined to make out with Eames, so keep that in mind too. He's the one with the longer hair."
"I have seen pictures. And even without, I wouldn't mistake him for you."
A sound of amusement. "This is when you're supposed to say that I'm the better looking one."
Bane smiled. "You're the one I want."
"Not bad. Half the point anyway."
"I would rather stroke you than your ego."
"Now that's better. And of course you would say that as I'm approaching the little old lady that bastard all but threw at me to try and slow me down. Fucker. Gotta go. Have fun on your 'business' trip you were telling me about. Don't fuck anyone else or I'll fuck you up when you get back. Remember I'm as diabolical as my dimples."
"As your dimples?" Bane repeated, amused.
"Do you have any idea how much shit I've gotten away with because of these babies? Your head would explode. Now kiss you later. Bye."
The call was ended before Bane could respond.
)
Meanwhile in Vienna
He did nothing to call attention to himself as he waited in a corner for his plane to begin boarding. He didn't need to try to attract attention though. For as much as man's evolution had resulted in the loss of the animal awareness that had once allowed mankind to survive in their hostile world, some of those instincts did still remain in man's basest of self. And there was something about this man that chilled the blood and raised the hair on the backs of necks.
Physically he was not imposing. Despite the expensive clothes and haircut, the quality of his hand luggage, he looked drawn, even underfed. To the more discerning eyes he had the look of someone who'd once been handsome and fit, only to lose his looks thanks to a hard life filled with suffering. His and others.
And of course he was aware of their reactions. Even those who hid it well. One's most basic, animalistic instincts were well honed in prisons. Especially the sort he'd been imprisoned in. Caged in, like an animal. Treated worse than an animal. But no more. Now he was the predator. No longer prey. No longer captive, but free.
To say he'd dreamed of these days would be an understatement. Planning out his life and revenge once he was free had kept him as sane as he'd ever been. Though the plans he'd made in the beginning had all been derailed when his father's letters had stopped being smuggled into him.
At first he'd thought his father had simply grown tired of mocking him. Then he'd heard the whispers of the old man's death in Gotham. That infamous American city across the sea.
He looked forward to seeing it with his own eyes.
