Layla walked down the dark streets watching the lamps flicker as she walked. She knew her white hair and leather boots would make her stand out, clicking against the pavement. Noises of male laughter beckoned her. It surrounded her like a mist. Perhaps people would think she were crazy, indulging in her suicidalness like this but if she were honest with herself she was too much of a coward to do it herself. The city had gone to even worse shit since Bane's actions of releasing the BlackGate inmates. It was only a matter of time before she would die and if she were honest, she hadn't particularly enjoyed life for a great many years before Bane's arrival to the city. Ever since the incident that resulted in her green coloured eye, she couldn't quite feel connected to life again.

So, there she was. Walking down the streets of Gotham like an idiot, simply because she could not stand to wait to die. Patience had never been her thing. The cold wrapped her up and seeped into her bones. The sooner it was over the better. Not long later, she began to hear the snickering of a man along with muttered voices.

A group of 3 men began circling her, each holding a pistol. One of them was around her age, with tattoos covering all the skin she could see. They continued to circle her like sharks finding prey. They started to taunt at her, whistling.

"Just kill me already." Layla muttered, getting agitated and just wanting the gun to go off.

"WHAT? Mickey did you hear that? She's begging us to kill her." One of the goons started laughing, almost double over.

Layla squeezed her eyes close, needing this to be all over. The impatience started bubbling over.

"Just fucking DO IT!" She screamed at them, gritting her teeth. Tears starting forming at her eyes.

Mickey, the one with the tattoos started laughing, waving his gun around like a lunatic.

"No fucking way. The bitch wants to be killed. Surely boss would want to indulge himself?"

"Yeah man, you owe him after how you almost botched the last job up."

"Shut up. I'm taking her to him." Mickey muttered from behind her.

Within a second her vision was covered.

She began to thrash and kick, until the heels of her boot impacted something that felt like a leg. This was going all wrong. Who was their boss?

"Ow! Fucking bitch kicked me."

Layla couldn't help but smirk at that.

She could tell by the fabric there was some kind of makeshift rucksack placed over her head. After continuously thrashing and being held by at least two pairs of hands she began to give up. I guess to die from some Gotham boss was as good as any, she thought. As long as she would.

Layla was dragged off with the bag around her face for what felt like hours. Foreign smells that disgusted her slowly filled her senses. She wrinkled her nose in distaste but said nothing. She could tell they were beginning to go underground somewhere, because the lights that filtered into the bag became darker and darker. Layla began to hear some kind of rasping sound, for what she couldn't place it came from. One of the men tightened his grip around her, pulling her to a stop. Without warning, the bag was ripped off her head, low light flooding her vision.

Before her, a few feet away a man stood hunched over. He was shirtless, the broad expanse of his back was riddled with muscle, not like those Layla used to see at the gym but like the ones that participated in strong men events. Through the middle of his back a strange scar snaked. The man hadn't given any indication he heard the group arrive. It was then that Layla pinpointed where the rasping was coming from, seemingly from near this man. Slowly, the head of the man appeared as he stretched his back, still not looking their way. He was bald and the dim lights shone on him.

"Boss, she told me she wanted it." The henchmen that held her arm said.

The man tilted his head at this statement but said nothing.

"N-no I mean, she told me she wants to die. I thought you'd like to indulge her"

The man immediately spun around in a graceful fashion, something Layla didn't think was possible for such a brute of a man. His light eyes were alight with something close to curiosity. They were blue, Layla noted, not unlike one of her own. Then her eyes peered down to the contraption on his face. A terrifying mask that looked like a spider spread across the mass of a man's mouth and nose.

No.

No fucking way.

Bane.

Layla's heart pounded into her chest. The man that was on television, who had shot the scientist. The man behind Gotham's reckoning. He stood before her.

His eyes soon fixed onto hers, peering down at her like she was some kind of specimen. In two strides he was before her and he knelt down, the material of his clothing creaking as he did. He was in her face now. The mask was painfully close to her nose, the scent of something close to medicine was all she could smell. The rasping of his breathing smothered her. She had never felt more afraid in her entire life. She knew he was about to shoot her, just like Dr Pavel.

Suddenly, his gloved hand came to stroke down the side of her face, right by her eye that was a vibrant green.

"You wish to die?" His voice hissed through the mask, a foreign lilt to it, almost as if he were teasing her. The voice was painfully familiar from his speech to Gotham. Layla wanted to pinch herself awake, but this was no dream.

Layla considered his words carefully. Although she hadn't quite imagined her end coming from Bane himself, she supposed it was what she set out to do. Her eyes penetrated his with unwavering confirmation despite her body shaking from the terror she was feeling.

"Yes." Layla's voice was barely a whisper, perhaps only enough for Bane himself to hear.

He tilted his head then, the fire of curiosity burning brighter. Oh shit, Layla thought. That was not what she wanted to see from this man. After a moment of gazing into her soul, he spoke.

"Hmm. I will not indulge this. You shall die with the rest of Gotham. You and your city shall die and I shall see your end."

Without a second for Layla to process these words, Bane's hand shot out to one of his crew that had brought her here and grabbed a pistol from his hand. Layla instinctively attempted to skirt backwards, her survival instincts fighting with her will to die. The grip of the man who held her only tightened, keeping her steady for Bane.

Bane turned to look at her, the corners of his eyes crinkled, much like hers did when she smiled. He was amused. It sent red hot anger down her body. What was amusing about this?

"Don't worry little one, I'm not giving you what you want, not yet." The 'yet' came out as a snarl as the butt of the gun came in contact with her head. Layla didn't even feel the pain as the world went black.

Pain was the first thing she felt as she woke. It was a kind of dull, pounding ache that was coming from the side of her head. Her eyes shot open and she was met with total darkness. Not the kind of darkness that met her at night but the kind that was pure black, unseeable. Her heart started pounding as the memories came flooding in. She sat up, which proved to be an awful mistake as the pounding became unbearable. She let out a soft cry and moved her fingers to where the pain was coming from, her brows furrowing as she felt what seemed like stitches. Was she in a hospital? Why couldn't she see? A dreadful panic set in as she wondered if she was somehow blind. Where was she?

"You required 3 stitches. They shall dissolve in due time."

The sound of Bane's voice caused her to jump and push herself backward until she was pressed into a cold concrete wall. She could tell she was on some kind of uncomfortable bed. She could not see anything in front of her, only the pitch black. Her heart was in her throat which caused the pounding on her head to throb achingly. Layla's body began to shake as the sound of the rasp of his mask was slowly recognised. How could she have missed it?

Suddenly, it became closer and closer. Layla squeezed her eyes shut, like she did when she watched horror movies sometimes. Jumpscares weren't quite as fun in real life. The rasping was so close now that she was sure she could feel his presence around her.

"P-please-"

"AH, she speaks. For a moment I thought you had gone mute."

Suddenly blaring white lights lit up the room. The blinding of them caused Layla to squint her eyes. In front of her, the mass of a man sat in an old armchair. He was still shirtless, his arms lay lazily against both armrests. His biceps bulged as much as his back had, ripped with muscle and capable of killing her. The expanse of his chest rose and fell with each rasping breath he took beneath his mask. He was staring at her with a blank expression now.

"Don't rape me." Layla blurted out, squeezing her legs together as if to protect herself. Even she herself knew it was futile. This man could force her to do anything with his strength.

Bane only laid his head back slightly, squinting his eyes as if in judgement to her statement. He continued to stare at her for a moment too long until he spoke.

"You mistake me for an ordinary man. That will be your downfall."

At this, Layla furrowed her brows in confusion. Looking down at his hands she noticed dried blood around them. Had he touched her? Bane followed her gaze curiously.

"You bled quite a lot for such a small injury. I would like to know your name." Bane stated, as if they were two strangers who had just met at a coffee shop.

Layla couldn't contain the trill of laughter at the absurdity of it. The laughter only caused her to wince as her head began to throb again. Out of the corner of her eye she could see her white hair had been stained with her own blood.

"What is so funny, girl?" his tone was menacing and it sobered her up quick.

"My name is Layla."

"Layla. You are an interesting thing. Tell me, your heterochromia. Were you born with it, or did you acquire it?"

"I don't see how that's any of your business." Layla quipped, knowing it was wrong before she even said it. Still, the bulky man's arrogance and inquisition into her life irritated her like nothing other.

"I wish to kill you for your insolence but that would only indulge your wishes. Instead, I will break you." He stood then, staring down at her. Somehow appearing even bigger than he had.

"Come." The word demanded her to do as he said. His eyes shone with pure power as he watched her.

Layla considered her options, mulling over what she should do. Her head was so painful she didn't think she could take another hit. Slowly, she uncurled herself and planted her feet on the ground. The cold concrete sent a tingle up her spine.

Where were her boots? Had he taken them off? These questions ran through her mind and she couldn't figure out why he would do so if he hadn't planned to rape her.

Without peering at her again the man set afoot, opening the creaky door to the room. When she stepped out to follow him, she was met with a corridor that was poorly lit. The lights began to flash dully just like the ones on the streets had.

She trailed behind the massive man. The muscles of his back were illuminated each time the lights flickered. He overshadowed her very existence. The way he walked was with purpose, as if nothing could stop him, and she supposed that was true.

They came to another dingy room with fluorescent lighting. It had a small white table that looked like it could've been stolen from a garage sale. There was a small kitchenette and opened boxes of what looked like food rations.

On the table, there was a plate of what appeared to be scrambled eggs and toast. A knife and fork were positioned beside the plate. Layla raised her brow at this, the last thing she had expected to see.

"Eat. You will not get the chance to do so for many hours." Bane stated, his arms folding across his chest.

Gulping, Layla decided it was probably in her best interest to do as he said. Compared to what she imagined awaited her outside that room, this was a godsend. Timidly she sat down onto the plastic seat below her, facing the plate of food. Grabbing the plastic knife, she pierced the scrambled eggs and plopped some into her mouth. She chewed and swallowed, somewhat savouring the salty taste. Layla had been living on what was left in her apartment, mostly cans of beans and noodles if she felt like being fancy.

She dragged her eyes up as Bane stood opposite her, the flimsy table being the only thing standing between them.

"Is it not to your liking?" Bane asked, amusement shining in his light eyes.

"I-it's… good actually." She muttered, not sure on how to engage in conversation with a dangerous man who had just clobbered her unconscious with a gun.

"Hmm. Now tell me, why do you wish to die?"

Bane was met with silence from her. This man was too nosy for his own good. Layla was mulling over how much trouble her silence could possibly get her into.

At her lack of a reply, Bane tilted his head back and in one second was seated opposite her. His eyes blazed at her with a kind of warning. Don't repeat the same mistake, it said.

"I can tell you feel quite a lot. There is much pain behind your eyes. I wonder who caused it?"

Before the weight of the words and the anger at his enquiry could fully hit her, the sound of tapping on the door made her glance over her shoulder.

An average-looking brunette man with tired eyes stood at the doorway. His arms were now folded over his chest. Layla couldn't help comparing how differently sized Bane and this man were. It was as if Bane was on another level himself. The man remained silent, and Layla turned to look at Bane to find he was still staring right at her. His eyes ablaze. Then, he glanced at the man at the door, his gaze breaking and began to speak.

"This is Barsard. He will be watching over you while I attend to more important matters. See to it that she returns to her room once she finishes eating, Barsard, under no circumstances is she allowed to leave it." Bane rasped, standing up abruptly.

"Yeah, boss. You got it."

Bane made his way out of the room, but not before placing his hand on Layla's shoulder with an almost bone-crushing weight. Layla whimpered at the pain. His blue eyes pierced her as she looked up.

"You will do well to do as you're told, little one." The weight of his hand released and she felt herself physically slump forward a little. With that, he was off. The sound of his boots hitting the cement with a thunderous sound was all that she could hear until it faded.

"You really got the lottery on picking who to kill ya, didn't ya kid?" The voice of the man, Barsard, behind her said. His voice was more kind and much more human than his boss.

Staring at the plate of eggs below her, Layla suddenly wasn't so hungry anymore.