History is Made at Night
by batmanbane
"Of all the things God has made, the human heart is the one that sheds most light, and alas! most night."
― Victor Hugo, Les Miserables
Chapter 10
Bane's brow quivered in disbelief, interpreting Stella's words and the actions of her thumb until his chest began to heave with equal parts arousal and outrage.
"You are…propositioning me." He observed with quiet menace, once he found his ragged voice. "I should kill you for that." His mask wheezed unsteadily as his twitching fingers hovered ominously at her neck.
Bane was no puritan, but Stella had shocked him. There were other women he'd known who would have easily offered such an overture without blinking. But he had thought her different from them.
She wasn't the sort to blithely trade sex for favours. At least, that's how he had come to know her. Further, in his estimation she was a neglected woman in need of a skilled lover. That lover would be him, of course, but he'd always expected she would approach him willingly.
Was he nothing more to her than means to an end? He had noticed the tendency in her before after she had agreed to work for him, when it meant she could also write her ambitious Gotham piece, and sell it to a corrupt American publisher in return for fame and fortune.
But this situation was different. Sex was now in the equation, and the fact that she offered herself to him out of desperation was not only an affront to his male pride, but certainly not very flattering.
Now, he understood her reasons for the proposition. She'd been tagged as a traitor, a claim that had placed her family at risk, and now she needed to protect and reassure them of her innocence. Her reasons were further enhanced by feelings of guilt for having neglected them in the early weeks of the Occupation. And he had compounded her desperation by refusing her request for help-twice.
With this consideration in mind, he continued his interrogation of the woman who stunned him. "Have you… previously offered yourself to a man?" He demanded as he slowly rested his fingers on her neck.
"I'm not 'offering' my body to you." She insisted quietly, not surprised by how he had chosen to interpret the situation. "It's a trade. And no, I don't sleep around."
"I am glad to hear it." He rumbled condescendingly. "What makes you think I do?"
Stella couldn't stop the warm laughter that suddenly escaped from her throat. "Oh, spare me the hypocrisy, Bane." She smiled. "Your conduct toward me has always been very forward and obvious, but the minute I reciprocate, you become Mr. Virtuous!"
She thought about the first day she'd met him, when his hands had roamed her body and unfastened her hair. He'd touched her many times since then, even though she'd asked him not to. Bane was a spectacularly attractive man, and she naturally assumed he was a 'harem' type who had plenty of women. Of course she thought of him as that kind of man.
"Point taken." Bane conceded thoughtfully. "I'll admit that I have not always behaved like a perfect gentleman before you, but I have never suggested a sexual dalliance between the two of us." He was staring at her with increased fascination, cautiously removing his fingers from her neck, his angry mind alive with more questions.
"I wonder about your intentions as well as your expectations, Stella." He continued. "Assuming I agree to the trade, are you truly willing, and do you fully intend to give me your body? Or do you expect that I will be a gentleman, allow this mission to your family home and then release you-
"Look." she interrupted him, boldly attempting to bluff. "It wasn't easy coming to you about this."
"You did not let me finish, my dear." Bane cut into her words mercilessly. "…do you expect that I will be a gentleman, allow this mission to your family home, and release you from your obligation? Because, I have no intention of releasing you."
"And you didn't let me finish." she flushed angrily. "I said it wasn't easy coming to you about this…and since you're obviously uncomfortable about it, I think we'll just forget the whole thing. Forget I ever asked."
Bane gripped her arm to stop her from leaving the kitchen. He couldn't deny that his body thrilled to the anticipation of Stella's submission to him, especially as she was now, very resistant. But…his mind could not readily dismiss the disturbing reality of Stella offering her body to him like a common...
"No, we will not forget it." He said, his voice becoming low and threatening. "Perhaps I have looked upon you too idealistically for my own good. Come here."
"You let go." She ordered, still struggling, but pleased that he had apparently taken the carrot. Bane's large hands held her securely in place.
"I consider myself a gentleman." he began, peering into her eyes, "but there is something about your proposal that calls to my baser instincts, Stella. At face value, your scheme is a cynical one, trading sex for a service. As I am also a ruthless man, why shouldn't I respond in kind and accept your trade as offered?"
"You do that!" Stella baited him, refusing to be intimidated.
"I will not only allow you to go to your family's home, but I will also accompany you myself. But we will travel there during curfew when the streets are quieter. Understand that there is no guarantee that you will find your family at home. They might have been forced out, or they might have gone into hiding. And you must also prepare yourself for the possibility of discovering their bodies."
An enormous sense of relief washed over Stella, and she was thankful for a brief moment of peace between them.
"Thank you." She said after a time. "I'm …grateful. I know there are no guarantees, but this means a lot to me, as you can probably tell." Her voice carried a distinct note of shame that Bane didn't fail to recognize.
"What is the family surname?" he asked, wheezing more calmly now.
"Palicki. Arthur and Connie Palicki. The house is on Booth St."
"Then we meet here at 0400 hours tomorrow. And I want you to arm yourself." He warned her.
"I will be armed." She promised, nodding and shifting uncomfortably. Bane had released his hold on her, and now that she'd reached the moment of truth she was unsure how to proceed.
Gotham Woman had routinely featured 'how-to' articles with titles such as 'Make him hot for you' and 'The move he wants you to make', but Stella's chaotic mind couldn't recall a single detail from any of them. In the end, she resorted to decidedly unromantic words.
"Uhh …your room or mine?"
Bane closed his eyes as his body went to war with his mind. The little sex kitten that proposed the trade only moments ago was locked up again, and it wasn't likely that Stella would allow her out to play again anytime soon.
Yes, the trade was cynical, but in practice, it didn't have to be that way, he had decided.
He would give her the awakening she so desperately needed. He would cultivate her body, pin her to the bed, prove his authority and build her passion stroke by stroke until she screamed his name. He would make her love him, and there was nothing cynical in that scenario. In fact, he looked forward to making it a reality.
Bane emerged from his reverie, his manhood pressing urgently against the zipper of his cargo pants.
your room or mine?
He opened his eyes to the vision of Stella, her skin still shower-fresh and freckled, her blonde hair still damp and free of the damned pony tail-its absence no doubt intended to be a further enticement for him. He reached out and briefly knotted his nervous fingers through a section of her hair.
The war was decided …and Bane's mask wheezed unsteadily until he found the right words.
Glancing around the kitchen he gathered an internal resolve, his fathomless pupils projecting the expression of detached annoyance that Stella found so captivating. When his eyes returned to hers, he spoke.
"You need to be well rested tomorrow. The gates of paradise will wait."
Exhausted by her confrontation with Bane, Stella slammed her office door and collapsed on the couch, sighing as she stared up at the ceiling.
The scene in the kitchen had not transpired as she planned, but at least she had achieved what she wanted. Bane was prepared to escort her to the home of her aunt and uncle tomorrow.
But, she hadn't counted on his reaction to her proposition. He was angry and confrontational, and although Stella had called him out on his hypocrisy, his disappointment in her troubled Stella deeply...
Once their argument peaked, Bane ultimately accepted the trade, but put off her obligation to him for the present time.
The gates of paradise. It was another of the corny, but slightly sweet phrases he occasionally used; the ones that sounded like they were lifted from bad romance novels. Drifting off to sleep, she wondered how long he would keep her in suspense as far as 'paradise' was concerned.
"Jackie Kent, you have ten seconds to come out of that truck!" Barsad's amplified voice echoed throughout the downtown core.
Standing on top of the tumbler with his megaphone, he sneered as he watched the opinionated reporter reluctantly peek out the back door of the truck before gingerly stepping out on to the pavement.
"What do you want?" she asked cautiously. Her hands were comically raised in the air, indicating she was unarmed.
"I have a gift from Bane." He then gestured to his men and jumped easily from the roof of the tumbler to the pavement.
On cue, two mercenaries dragged a lifeless cargo from the back of the vehicle and tossed it at the redheaded woman's high-heeled feet.
Jackie gasped in horror as she recognized the body of Larry Crowe, the photographer who first suggested the possibility of Stella Browning's disloyalty. His neck was obviously broken, and his head lay at a sickening angle away from the rest of his body.
"You people will pay for this!" she uttered sanctimoniously, ignoring her own role in Larry's demise.
"Oh. I don't know about that, ma'am!" Barsad smirked in typically low-keyed fashion.
Glancing around the area, he spotted the videographer who had likely captured the entire incident.
"You with the camera! Point that thing at me!" he ordered through his megaphone.
The terrified videographer took one look at the intimidating rifle and artillery adorning Barsad, and quickly adjusted his field of vision from the body of Larry Crowe to Bane's lieutenant.
"I'm going to make a speech now." Barsad grinned, positioning himself so that the bodies hanging in Gotham Square could be seen directly behind him. "You ready?" he asked the videographer, who nodded obediently.
"People of Gotham! Or should I say, Gentlemen of Gotham! You should know that Bane doesn't approve of men who violate women! So, any man caught in the act won't be sent to Crane's Court!"
With a sweeping gesture Barsad revealed the bodies behind him, pausing for dramatic effect as they swung back and forth in the breeze. He smirked lazily before finishing his speech.
"No …they'll go straight to the hangman …because that is Bane's punishment for rape." He finished.
Facing the camera once again, he passed his index finger in a quick, horizontal gesture across his neck, signaling to cut. The videographer eagerly showed Barsad the playback, just to make sure he was satisfied.
"Now." Barsad said calmly, returning his attention to Jackie Kent. "I want you to broadcast that piece, including the part where I indicate 'cut', every six minutes. If it isn't on air in the next fifteen minutes, I'll send the masked man down here to find out why." He threatened quietly.
Early the next morning, Bane and Stella arrived at their destination in a battered vehicle, parking a block away from the home of Stella's aunt and uncle.
Bane was all business, and to Stella's relief he made no mention of the trade she had suggested the previous day. He was wearing his full armour, bullet-proof vest and shearling coat, and carrying a rifle. Stella wore one of the khaki uniforms Barsad had given her, sturdy boots and a red scarf hiding her hair. As promised, she carried a pistol in her pocket.
The sun was about to rise as they approached the home on foot, and Bane turned to address her.
"Listen to me, now." He said sternly. "I will have none of your stubbornness and backtalk here, or your feminist heroics. I am in charge onsite, and you will do exactly as I say while we are here. Is that understood, Stella?"
Stella had often read that relationships couldn't survive without give and take, but it wasn't advice that she'd ever truly taken to heart. She always did what she could to get her own way, but there was always a first time. Allowing Bane to take her hand, she simply said, "Lead the way. Upstairs and to your left."
"The house is unstable." He observed as they stopped in the doorway. "Damaged in the explosions."
Stella made to rush past him into the house, but Bane would not release her hand. "Stay with me…" he ordered, " …at all times."
As they entered the home's tiny vestibule, they heard the approach of a vehicle in need of a new exhaust pipe, along with a chorus of aggressive male voices.
"Cocksuckers!" the voices shouted as a large rock crashed through one of the windows.
"And stay away from the windows." Bane added, without further comment.
Entering the main living area, Stella was stunned by the sight of two bruised addicts, naked and slumped against one another on the couch, muttering incoherently. There was drug paraphernalia all over the room.
Bane took two giant steps towards them, needles and spoons crunching beneath his feet. He lifted the first addict by his skinny arm, thrusting him violently to the floor. Shocked, the man rose up on his knees in protest, but Bane grabbed his head and twisted it savagely, until Stella heard a sickening crack.
She forced herself to look away again as the mercenary turned his attention to the second addict, who had fallen to the floor to aid his companion. There came an ominous muffling and sounds of struggle, followed by silence. Bane had suffocated the second man with his hand.
"Do not look away, Stella." He ordered. "Never forget why I have come to Gotham."
Though she was shaken by Bane's cruelty, she again took his hand and they both looked into closets and under beds. There had been other vandalism throughout, but the house hadn't been completely trashed. They checked the basement, the attic, the tiny garden and garage out back, but there was no sign of Arthur or Connie, or their remains.
Back in the main room, Bane checked the fireplace, squatting at the hearth to have a look inside the flue. "I'm afraid it is time for us to leave." He decided. "It seems your family might have left in a hurry, since their luggage remains. It is difficult to determine whether or not there was a struggle when they left."
He rose from the fireplace hearth just as an unearthly rumble sounded, and Stella felt herself thrown across the room.
"Wha … what happened?" she coughed. She was on the floor, covered in heavy dust, and she immediately rolled over to locate Bane.
It was then she realized the fireplace was gone, including the wall that had supported it, replaced by the new morning sun pouring through the empty space, and a mountain of bricks and mortar staring her in the face.
"Bane?" Stella called, looking around the room fearfully. "Where are you?"
On the 60th floor of the Daggett Building, Talia al Ghul angrily stared down Barsad in the kitchen of Bane's townhouse.
"It seems Bane forgot about our meeting this morning." She hissed, confronting the well-armed sharpshooter as though the missed appointment had been his fault. Talia was dressed in her expensive Miranda Tait gear, accompanied by the lingering scent of a rare perfume. "Where is he?"
"I really don't know, ma'am." Barsad fibbed. He loathed Talia, resented having to take orders from her, and worried obsessively about her hold on Bane. Barsad had not known her the way Bane so often defended her, as the innocent child warped by prison experience. Unmoved by the tragedy of her past, what mattered to him was that she had become a destroyer of men, a feat she had achieved by negotiating the Gotham social network bed by bed, becoming one of the most influential business figures in the city.
"Urgent matters, that's all he said." He shrugged.
Talia was silent for a moment as she began circling the kitchen, inspecting every inch of it before looking up to the ceiling.
"There is a woman here." She announced in an unforgiving tone. "Now I understand the cause of his distraction."
"There's no woman here." Barsad claimed, not untruthfully. He was well aware that Stella had left with Bane earlier to go to her family's house.
Talia smirked and strolled lazily toward the unwilling lieutenant.
"Nothing is more attractive than a man who is a skilled liar." She whispered, nipping at Barsad's left earlobe as her right hand reached down to squeeze his right buttock. "In my experience they are very good in bed. Shall we find a room upstairs, John?"
Barsad coughed. He was revolted by her unwelcome sexual overture, and his body froze.
Whatever plans Talia had for him upstairs were thwarted by the sound of the elevator door and the arrival of a startled Abraham into the kitchen.
Talia frowned at the intrusion but reluctantly conceded defeat.
"Oh …I'm afraid I must say goodbye for now, Barsad." She said grinning in her sweet Miranda Tait way. "When Bane returns, would you remind him of our missed meeting?"
"I'll do that, ma'am." Barsad said, unable to disguise his relief at the prospect of her departure.
As soon as the elevator door sounded, and Talia disappeared, Barsad collapsed against the kitchen counter for emotional support.
"Shit!" he swore. "Thank you, Brother! You just saved my life."
"Oh, c-come on, Barsad!" Abraham scoffed. "D-don't tell me you d-didn't enjoy it!"
"Tell you what." the sweating Barsad said. "Next time you can take my place. Her perfume is all over me, and if Bane smells it, I'm a dead man. I gotta hit the showers."
"Hold on!" Stella shouted as she attempted to jam the fireplace's broken flue pipe into the pile of rubble that trapped Bane. "I'm giving you an air passage. Just tell me you're still alive!" she begged." She didn't want to tell him that the one and only cell phone they carried was in his pocket.
As soon as she heard a faint groan, her emotions overcame her and she panicked. Abandoning the pipe, she tore downstairs and out of the house, instantly spotting a very large man who was limping down the street.
"Help me, mister! You've got to help me!" she shrieked as she hurried to catch up with him.
"Huh?" he answered gruffly. He turned his head angrily, and Stella was greeted with the pock-marked visage of Monk, the Blackgate inmate that Bane had sexually disabled in front of news cameras.
"Sure I'll help you, Blondie!" he replied, promptly recognizing Stella and gripping her in a forceful headlock. "But I'm gonna need payment in advance." He cackled viciously as Stella struggled in vain to release herself from his grip. "By the way, I hear you're a traitor now, so welcome to La Famiglia." He jeered as he gripped her even tighter.
Stella coughed, gasping for breath as she struggled in his hold.
"Your boyfriend did me a favour when he smashed my dick." He breathed into her ear, and she gagged at the rancid odor of his breath. " 'Cause I got this for a replacement." He shoved a broken broom handle stained with dried blood into her face and added, "It works even better, and I get just as much pleasure out of it."
Unable to scream, she struggled to remember long ago self-defense lessons and waved her legs frantically in hopes of disabling a shin or foot with her heel. After several attempts, she felt her heel sink into the small of his foot, and her fury provided the adrenalin needed to crush his foot as forcefully as she could manage.
Monk roared, writhing in pain and unintentionally releasing her from his headlock. The next few seconds played out as a dream. Stella sprang from his grasp, reached into her right pocket for her pistol and swung her body violently in a half circle to the left, sinking the butt of her gun into the temple of the violent inmate.
Monk's facial expression changed in slow motion from anger to surprise, and she watched grimly as his eyes rolled into the back of his head and his body fell backwards to the ground. With no time to spare she hovered over his body to retrieve her gun, just as a feminine voice called out to her.
"I was going to help you out, sister, but you were doing just fine!" Stella turned to see a dark-haired beauty about her age, with expressive eyes, dressed in a smart winter jacket.
"Help me!" Stella insisted. "A wall collapsed inside, and there's a man trapped in the rubble. You've got to help me get him out!" she urged, grabbing the woman's hand and pulling her up the exterior stairs of the damaged brick home.
"Wait just a minute!" the other woman balked. "If a wall collapsed, is it safe to go in there?"
"It's safe enough, don't worry, I've already been up there." Stella persisted. "Now hurry! My name is Stella."
"Selina." The dark haired woman responded flatly, reluctantly following Stella up the stairs.
Inside, they began moving bricks and mortar as quickly as they could manage. But by now, Stella was so distraught and so afraid for Bane that she made a fatal error.
"Bane!" she called over the rubble. "Can you hear me? We're digging you out, you're going to be okay!"
Like a shot, Selina was back on her feet.
"Bane is under there?" She demanded, backing away in fear. "Sorry, honey, but I can't help you. And if you're smart, you'll let him die here."
"But he needs our help!" Stella pleaded. "He - he can't breathe under there!"
"Look... I worked for him. And when he had no further use for me, he sent his men to kill me." Selina told her. "I watched him beat a friend to death, and I've been on the run from him ever since. "
"Can't you at least go to Barsad and tell him I need help?" The journalist pleaded.
"No." she shook her head patronizingly. "Barsad will kill me, honey. The minute he lays eyes on me. Don't you get it? You need to run now, before it happens to you, too. One day you'll be of no further use to him and he'll have you killed."
"Just go, then!" Stella screamed hysterically. "You heartless, murdering bitch! Get out of my sight, I'll dig him out myself!" She chased the fast-retreating Selina down the stairs, her hands raw and bloodied from trying to free Bane.
"Somebody please help me?" she appealed to the empty street, her voice weak with grief and hopelessness. She wiped the encroaching tears away with bleeding hands, and when she opened her eyes, an agitated 11-year old boy stood before her.
"I'll help you, Stella." Ahmed said, clearly perturbed by her tears. "Don't cry."
They were the longest fifteen minutes Stella had ever endured. After sending Ahmed on a mission to bring Barsad, Stella continued to dig out Bane.
"I almost have you out!" she called, needing to comfort him even though she had no idea if he could hear her. "Don't you worry." she puffed as she continued to push piles of brick and mortar away. "Barsad is coming. I'm here, and. I've almost got you, and everything is going to be okay." She babbled. "Can you hear me, Bane?"
"Damn you!" she choked during the ensuing silence. "Why don't you talk to me? Give me a sign …Bane! ...anything!"
There was still no answer beneath the rubble and Stella would have given in to her despair had she not spotted the mercenary's thumb under a broken brick. Digging out his hand, she felt for a pulse.
"You're alive!" she laughed through wet eyes. "See? I told you I'd get you out!"
In the next few minutes she'd completely uncovered him, and brushed the dust and dirt away from his mask so he could breathe easier. She never let go of his hand or stopped talking to him, even though he didn't respond. The mask was damaged, and Bane was out cold.
The familiar roar of tumblers tore into the silent street, followed by the sounds of men's voices, and the sight of Barsad brushing past her to get to Bane. Exhausted, Stella felt herself being lifted by her arms, carried out of the house, and tossed into the back of a tumbler. As the vehicle accelerated, she was vaguely aware of another unearthly rumble and haze of dust...
Author's Note: Aww... so sorry to leave you at this point. I've got the next scene written but 4500 words is a bit over my comfort zone for a chapter, so I didn't want to introduce anything further here. The good news is that I'm pretty well midway through the story, and now I'm now drafting plots, characters and tone for the next 11+ chapters. Please don't be shy about writing thoughtful reviews. I love to read them... :D ;)
* Btw, I hope you all remember that Ahmed is from St. Swithins, and is one of the boys who delivers Stella's tabloid around the city...