Chapter 14: Can I have a ride?
Inspiration images:
Selina on a joyride. imgur dot com slash q6XWW71
Bane chillin'. imgur dot com slash 5AUZznO and imgur dot com slash cHe0b6r
VVVVV
Driving the tumbler was as ridiculously fun as it looked. It might have a few new dents from some turns taken a touch too quickly, but since its exterior is already riddled with bullet holes and other damage, Selina is certain that no one will care.
Even if they do, it was worth the exhilaration. Selina enjoys the feeling of controlling beasts far more powerful than herself.
True to her word, she shows up at Bane's control room to return the tumbler's starter, two hours and fifty seven minutes later. Because she really doesn't need him to retrieve it from her personally, with all the ominous meaning that accompanies the word.
Farad is on guard duty in the control room and waves her in after she tells him that Bane is expecting her. Bane is basically a password for everything around here. As long as Selina doesn't exaggerate too much, she is certain that she could put his name to good use. Maybe she can use it to get herself some actual sushi in this MRE-infested hole…
Selina pokes around the control centre, looking for Bane. In a nook near the servers, she finds Piotr sound asleep on an old mattress. She considers kicking him awake and blasting him for destroying her condo, but thinks better of it when she sees him frown and twitch like he's having a nightmare. She'll let him stew in that instead.
There is a small offshoot passage at the very back of the control room that Selina had noted in passing before. She glances at Farad, who is leaning tiredly against the wall and not paying attention to her, and at the sleeping Piotr.
Is this the lair of the beast?
Selina advances cautiously and is rather disappointed by the pedestrian nature of the small room that lies at the end of the passage. It is lit by a battery-operated camp light valiantly pushing its weak glow into the shadows. A single bed, a camp table, a crappy foldy chair. A computer. A red motorcycle helmet. A pile of clothes overflowing from a duffle bag.
Compared to the relatively sumptuous office suite that Selina found for herself upstairs, this looks like a hovel. It surprises her, really, that Bane – the great orator, dictator, and criminal boss – makes his home down here. Why didn't he commandeer the CEO's office? Why let his men have all the best rooms with the best views and facilities? Is this kind of thing why they think he's a great leader?
It's weird. Selina drops the tumbler's starter onto the small table with a dull thunk. And there's another odd thing. There are packets of field rations stacked up beside the computer… and syringes.
Selina hears Bane's breathing behind her and just barely stops herself from jumping guiltily. She's allowed to be here, she's returning his starter. For god's sake, Selina, get a grip.
"I put it back there," says Selina, pointing to the starter without turning around. "Had a great ride."
Her ears catch the sound of water droplets hitting the floor. She turns. Bane is apparently very freshly out of the shower. A scrappy towel is wrapped around his waist.
"Oh my," says Selina with a smirk. She can't help it, it's just who she is – and besides, she really likes what she sees.
She leans against the table and crosses her arms as though waiting for a show. Hey, he hasn't asked her to leave. She's not leaving.
Bane is unfazed by her presence. His eyes move from the duly-returned starter to Selina's cat smile, then to the dufflebag of clothing on the floor. He makes his way towards the latter.
It is so strange to see him like this – more vulnerable than usual without his armour, and yet even more impressive than usual when you can see his bulk unshrouded by any clothing. He is not cut like a bodybuilder; he is solid and thick like a strongman.
Powerful.
Yummy.
"You should show this off more often," says Selina, gesturing to him. "You can be Gotham's liberator and its resident beefcake."
Bane gives her an inscrutable look and she actually giggles.
"Alright, I'll stop," says Selina. "I don't want to make you uncomfortable."
Bane rifles through the clothes. "I am not uncomfortable, Ms. Kyle."
And there goes the towel. On the floor. And Selina stares at the ceiling, because she didn't expect that at all.
"Are you certain that you are not the one who is uncomfortable?" asks Bane, obviously noticing her sudden silence. There is mockery in his tone.
Oh, that smug asshole. Selina was willing to give him privacy, but now… she gives him a frank, appraising look. She does like what she sees. He is very… proportionate.
"Perfectly certain," says Selina.
Bane turns to his clothing, apparently satisfied that he has made his point.
When he turns away from her, Selina cannot hold back the tiny gasp that escapes her: his broad back is bisected by a hideous raised scar that twists and splays its way down from his nape to his tailbone.
Selina bites her lip and turns away. No wonder Bane needs the mask. That looks like a bush-level surgical attempt and make no mistake. Selina feels a brief tingle of pity for the child born in darkness that had to endure that horrific injury...
"You have questions; I can hear them taking shape before they have even been formed by your lips," says Bane as he pulls on his customary cargo pants. "But I will entertain none on the subject of the scar."
Selina lets out a small disappointed sigh. "Fine. But can I ask about those field rations you have piled up there?"
Bane glances to where she is pointing. "...What of them?"
"Do you actually eat them?"
"No. They are merely decorative." Bane's sarcasm is thick and it verges ever so slightly on anger. Selina doesn't quite dare ask about the syringes.
Bane wraps his wide back brace around his waist and tightens it with a sharp tug and a grunt. Because of the mask, Selina cannot see the grimace that makes his eyes squint, but she can imagine it.
Selina runs a finger thoughtfully over her lower lip. "You have to wear that pretty much all the time. Like your mask. Like your wrist brace. It's like you're being held together by straps, leather, and willpower..."
"I believe I said no questions on that front," says Bane.
"It wasn't a question," says Selina cooly. "It was an observation."
Bane pauses when she responds, then blows loudly through the mask, as though Selina is a fatiguing child who is actually right. He pulls on his black long-sleeved shirt, then his armoured vest. "A fair point, and a fair observation. May I make an observation of my own?"
Selina raises an eyebrow. "Shoot."
"You are an extraordinary creature."
"Don't try to compliment me," smiles Selina. "You'll only hurt yourself."
"An extraordinarily... tiresome creature."
Selina's laughter lights up her eyes with mischief. "That's it? I've been called so much worse."
She moves to a cross-legged position on Bane's table, contemplating him as he dresses. "So we know that you're held together by buckles and force of will. But what is it that keeps you going?"
Bane narrows his eyes at her. Selina smiles charmingly back. "It wasn't a question about your back."
He looks at her with a degree of irritation. Selina does not know if it is directed at herself, her question, or his own inability to provide an immediate answer.
"Making a better world," says Bane at length. The answer is grandiose and typical and utterly meaningless.
Selina gives him a cynical look. "I wanted your real answer, not your public relations answer."
"Should there be a difference?"
"Your men might take you at face-value. So might Gotham's people, they've been swallowing propaganda in various forms for years... but I don't buy that bullshit."
He looks hard at her. "There are moments when I do not remember why I keep you around, Ms. Kyle."
This is a warning. Selina feels that she may have pushed him too far, may have been too straightforward. After all, Bane is used to his men rolling over on command, to people never daring to challenge him. But Selina dares. Perhaps it is draining when you aren't accustomed to it.
"If you wanted a yes-man, I could've had Farad deliver the starter."
"You could have," says Bane. There is a pause. "But then we wouldn't have had this… interesting conversation. It would have been a great pity."
Bane must have just smiled a small smile to himself, the tiniest crinkle at the edges of his eyes tells Selina that.
He fastens his wrist brace, the last part of his armour, and Selina is faced once again with the Bane that Gotham knows, the one who is not so much a man as a despot, zealot, and physical brute.
"I guess the show's over," says Selina with exaggerated disappointment. "No more beefcake."
Bane looks down at her. "I do hate to disappoint you, Ms. Kyle. Would you like an encore?"
Oh, holy crap, Bane is so definitely flirting with her, and it is making her so very nervous. He's not supposed to flirt back, he's supposed to remain cold and hardass. This is unknown territory, dangerous territory.
Yeah, it's time to blow this popsicle stand.
Selina is not stupid enough to allow her discomfort to show on her face. That would mean losing the game. Instead, she rakes her eyes down Bane's body and smiles a coy smile.
"A tempting proposition… but I'm afraid I have to go," she says.
"Must you?" asks Bane. "Why?"
He has hooked his hands comfortably into his vest now and appears to be ready to engage in a pleasant session of teasing banter on the issue. Selina is not really in the mood herself; she wants to dance along the line, not cross it, but the line has become kind of blurry as of late...
"It's past my bedtime," says Selina.
"A very good reason," says Bane. "Only... you do not have a bedtime."
"And you would know that how, exactly?"
"I make it my business to know."
"Creep," says Selina.
"Habits are a useful bit of intelligence," says Bane. "Patterns, behaviours. You know this as well as anyone."
Selina knows that he is right in saying this, but he's still a creep.
"So I ask again," says Bane. "Why are you leaving?"
Because she's anxious and uncomfortable and he's being unusually pushy and making her nervous.
"I'm hungry," says Selina. It's kind of true.
"Ah," says Bane. "Another good reason."
He makes his way towards the table where Selina is still perched. She desperately wants to lean away from him when he approaches, but pride makes her hold fast. It is a good thing, too, because all he does is reach for one of the field ration packets stacked up beside her and drop it onto her lap.
"So eat," says Bane.
Fucker. Selina does not like how he has called her bluffs twice in a row now. If this was a poker game, she would not be doing very well.
Selina picks at the packet and pulls out a dryish poppyseed cake. She rips bite-sized pieces off and eats them moodily. Bane watches her in attentive silence.
"Now I suppose you must leave because you are thirsty," says Bane.
Before Selina can answer, he annoys her tremendously by tossing her a small bottle of water.
Selina gives him a dark look as she opens the water and takes a long swig.
He notices her black glare. "What's the matter, Ms. Kyle?"
"I don't enjoy being preempted," says Selina.
"Then do not be predictable," says Bane.
He is so smirking at her behind the mask. She would punch him, except she doesn't want to die.
"So," says Bane, standing before Selina, hands hooked into his vest. "Sleep, hunger, thirst… any other baser urges you need satisfied?"
Selina has had quite enough of this for one night. She's the one who plays with her prey, not the other way around. Bane has been amusing himself far too much at her expense in the last five minutes. If he was any other man, she'd have him on that bed, begging for her touch right now, for daring to attempt to tease her. But she doesn't dare go there with Bane; he is too powerful, too ruthless, too everything… normally, sex is one of her weapons, but not when this dangerous man is involved.
And so she must retreat. But retreat with style.
Selina jumps off the table and walks to Bane with her slinkiest walk and her smirkiest smirk. She reaches for his mask and, with a light touch on either side, tilts his head down toward her.
She stands on tiptoe to whisper in his ear. "Cheeky. But no – none that you could satisfy, anyway."
She leaves without looking back, feeling the weight of his eyes on her all the way down the hall.
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