The Penguin was not a man Bane liked per say. He was shrewd, cruel, and outright mannerless despite conveying he was a gentleman of wealth. The Cobblepot name was nothing but dirt but that didn't stop Oswald from rising from the ashes to be one of the best gunrunners on the East Coast. Bane would give him points for resourcefulness but not much else.

"Ah, if it ain't my favorite mercen'ry," the smaller man said with a cigar in his mouth. "Come to take a look at my stash? I have the finest items this side of Gotham."

Bane was always a bit thrown off by the cockney accent and for a while, he didn't even believe it was a real-life accent, just something Oswald made up. It turned out Oswald's use of the accent was fake, not the other way around. The man wasn't even from Britain, only went to school there yet learned nothing but how to run a gang and sell drugs. No wonder the Cobblepot name fell through in Oswald's care.

"My men are running low on ammo. You know which kind," Bane said.

"Of course, of course. Nothing but the best for my chums." Oswald gestured for his men to get the usual. A supply of ammo fit for a small army as Bane could attest. "Whut else is on your mind? I see it in your eyes. You want somethin', don'tcha? I think I got somethin' that'll satisfy all your shoppin' needs. Follow me."

There was a brief grunt of disapproval from Bane. He didn't like when people assumed they knew him or what he wanted...even if they were right. Before he could say anything, Oswald's henchgirls, Candy and Tracey, both gently grabbed ahold of his arms and guided him to Penguin's private stockroom as they trailed the short man there.

Normally, he would have thrown anybody that dared to touch him but he could tell the women were a bit infatuated with him. He found the phenomenon of people crushing on others on sight alone amusing but it did sometimes get annoying. Still, both beauties meant well. They were basically hired trophy accountants anyway. He only had to deal with them for less than an hour so he might as well just suck it up and let the girls do whatever, not that they could do anything displeasing.

"So, handsome, where did you say you came from again?" Candy smiled as sweet as her namesake.

Bane merely raised a brow, "Santa Prisca, an island just off South America."

"Does it 'ave any beaches, love? Candy and I might take a vacation there once the Bat's cooked," Tracey said with a notably more real cockney accent. She sounded much more genuine than the Penguin.

That made the man break into a small smile. "Plenty. I myself never got to enjoy them but the sunsets are to die for."

"Maybe after all this blows over, we can meet you down there for some fun?" Winked Candy.

He stayed quiet but it was more because he was unsure of how to approach a possible offer of a few nights getting laid. Not that he didn't like sex but there was little room in his schedule for such indulgences.

"As...lovely as that would be, my dear, I am a very busy person."

Tracey seemed slightly annoyed by his response but Candy only wrapped her arms around his amused as they entered the private stockroom full of much more exotic weapons not normally sold, at least not unless the buyers had a pretty penny to part with.

"Girls," the Penguin called, "why don'tcha make yourselves useful and whip up some scotch on the rocks for our guest here?"

Tracey was quick to leave. Bane hardly saw it as a loss but watching Candy shoot him a kiss then walking off with a sway of her hips made him kind of regret turning her down. Nice, sexy lady. Maybe, just maybe, he might invite her to a vacation she definitely deserved from putting up with Penguin.

Oswald gave her a slap on the ass which quickly made Bane lose the smile he had. "Pretty things, ain't they? Candy's my brains, Tracey's my brawn, and both of them are my beauties."

He didn't want to tread on Penguin's...territory, so he merely dismissed them. "They are sufficient."

But he miscalculated just how prideful Oswald was. The man frowned and took the cigar out of his mouth, blowing smoke to the side with a judgmental expression. "Sufficient? Whut? My girls not good enough for you or somethin'?"

"I never said-"

Penguin pointed his umbrella at Bane which contained a switchblade at the tip. The larger man scowled as Oswald spoke coldly, "Neva insult my floozies. That's my job, boy."

When he thought he just didn't like the Penguin, it became quite an understatement now. He loathed this man pulling a blade on him. The only thing that prevented him from breaking Oswald's head against the many crates in the room was the fact that there was a ship-full of weapons and over a hundred plus men aboard that would be so happy to put a thousand bullets in him. He could shrug off a few shots depending where they hit but even he wasn't that inhumanely resistant.

"Now, I'll be kind and pardon you for the insult just this once. Feel free to choose somethin' you like, but don't think I won't be watchin' you," the Penguin grumbled, hobbling to his makeshift throne.

Of course, the man would have a throne. He idolized himself far too much. But...pot to kettle? No, Bane wasn't that delusional, or maybe he was when he first arrived but that seemed like such a long time ago. Gotham had changed him that fast, and the thought of it was starting to scare Bane on the inside. That led to an inward turmoil that maybe he was already insane to begin with, Gotham just reflected it in his face. Now wasn't the time to think about it though.

Taking Penguin's word to heart, he wandered the room examining each weapon. Grenade launchers were a thing and he was impressed by how much they were in comparison to many other items. Definitely a bucket list buy in the future. He needed something faster though, something guaranteed to fly and destroy in a second. It had to be, in any sense, unstoppable.

There was one weapon he had to backtrack to as he missed it while in thought. It was an RPG, modified it seemed. Now that was the weapon of utmost destruction. A bit more expensive than half the stockroom's supply but well worth it.

It was exactly what he needed to blow up a building or get rid of a Bat if all else fails, maybe both...or he could destroy Joker once they were done as business partners. The wheels in his head were turning like the well-oiled machine it was. Kill the Joker and Gotham was ripe for the taking with no Bat and no madmen to stop him.

He paused and blinked. That wasn't a rational thought. That was not even close to what he would have thought about doing before. But that was before and this was now. Now it made sense, did it not?

"Oi, you alright there? Don't tell me you're losin' your marbles now. Who'da think? Bane, the ultimate mercen'ry, is just a looney like the rest of Gotham's blokes. A pity."

Embarrassed wasn't even close to describing what he felt. His head was hurting. He wasn't even sure what he was becoming with more unnatural thoughts growing each night like he belonged in an insane asylum. That wasn't him, was it?

"It's nothing, just some bad memories," he argued calmly.

Then he heard the most outrageous, rude cackle a human could produce. "You think I'm blind? There's somethin' not right with you. You may believe that you are alright, but I can see as clear as day that you ain't. You're a crazy without a doubt."

Bane wanted out of the hell that was this vessel. Even if there was a shred of truth of what that sick, little man said, he would rather just buy something and leave. He wasn't going to come back in person ever again, that was for sure.

"I will take the RPG," he grunted.

Penguin took another smoke from his cigar and nodded, "Excellent choice."

Bane contacted one of his men to bring money and waited for them, ignoring most of what the Penguin said. When they arrived, he took the briefcase and handed it to Oswald as his soldier packed up the weapon and left. As soon as Oswald held the case, Bane turned to leave quickly. He froze when the handle of the umbrella caught his hand and turned to see the man smirking at him.

"Between you and I, Bane, understand that if you lose your mind in Gotham, there's no gettin' it back. This city has claimed more lives than you know and most of them are still walkin' around like zombies. Just be careful out there. Gotham is dangerous when you no longer know who's lookin' back in the mirror."

Bane said nothing but glared at the audacity of this man. As he left the Final Offer, his memory of those words replayed in his head over and over.

No, he didn't know who was in the mirror anymore and that scared him deep down. This wasn't the Bane that went over seven thousand miles to kill a man plaguing his dreams. This was a madman in the mirror and he was ashamed. Every stretching day closer to Christmas Eve was becoming harder to bear because there didn't seem to be anything left of himself. When he killed the Bat, what was there going to be left anyway?

Those haunting questions tore at him and his purpose was slowly becoming foreign in his own thoughts. That wasn't right. None of this should have been right. But in the end, all he could do was at least achieve what he initially came to Gotham to do and sort out himself later. It was his only choice now.

AN: Compare this reading of Bane to the very first chapter with Joker and tell me he's the same. Something about Gotham hurts people and it consumes them like a plague. Writing Bane's downfall is oh so fun though.