Chapter Nine: Questions that Remain Unanswered
Bane smiled behind his mask. "We'll address your fear later Miss Mourn, for now, it's time to get you to the stage."
As Talia was driven to an abandoned strip mall at the edge of the city, condemned due to a chemical leak, back at Wayne Enterprises, Bane directed Barsad to follow behind him in a similar SUV with the rest of the armed men in a fleet of sturdy vehicles.
Bane directed Gwendolyn to the passenger side of the SUV, keeping his hold on her firm as he opened the heavy door.
Gwendolyn shifted on the passenger seat as Bane navigated the large vehicle out of the Wayne Enterprises parking garage.
She glanced at the dashboard when her voice resumed spilling from the speakers.
"Can you please turn that off?" Gwendolyn asked when the topic of the show again turned towards Bane and her expert sexual psychologist began to disarticulate his masculinity, abilities, and limitations.
Bane ignored her and adjusted the volume a touch higher.
"Please turn it off," Gwendolyn stated, embarrassment beginning to rise inside her when her expert guest began to discuss her perceptions of Bane's ability to perform sexually, his understanding of basic anatomy and inferred he was impotent.
Bane continued to remain wordless but increased the volume until the speakers shuddered from the bass.
"Goddammit, turn it off," she snapped and reached for the radio dial.
Bane's hand snapped out with reptilian speed and caught her small wrist before she could touch the round dial and cut her own words off.
Gwendolyn cried out at his sudden, hot grasp; his strong fingers closing around the fine bones in her wrist.
Her expression made Bane nearly drive into a ditch, so much fear, hurt and something else.
Gwendolyn felt like Atlas holding the weight of the world, which in turn was supporting the entirety of the galaxy and every bit of the known and unknown universe.
His eyes flicked briefly to the road and then to where he held her wrist in his, never enough force to harm. Bane had the strength and capacity to the end world within his grasp but the fine control to help a monarch butterfly unfold its wet wings and live.
Bane could feel both their pulses under the scarred pad of his thumb, birds beating their wings inside a cage too small.
Bane's eyes danced in between the road through the dirty windshield and her trapped wrist. Gwendolyn held her breath as Bane dragged the rough pad of his thumb across the top of her hand, the capillary bed bruising in the wake of his touch, the smooth skin instantly reddening.
He let go at once as though her skin had scorched him and spun the dial counterclockwise, extinguishing all sound in the SUV, save for both of their combined breathing rates.
The rest of the car ride was seventy-five miles of silence.
As they drew closer to the dilapidated mall that was once a thriving tourist hotspot, Talia was even closer to the football field-sized parking lot, overrun with sunny yellow dandelions pushing through the cracked asphalt.
Talia was escorted inside the abandoned mall, once packed with customers, flashing neon signs and a carbohydrate rich food court.
Talia marched to an electronic store that had been transformed into a news set, a large flatscreen monitor was hung on the wall behind a short desk and black office chair.
She nodded in satisfaction at a couple of the armed men she had poached from special forces that had technical skills. They'd explained how they were going to break into the airwaves and take over all of the viewing for Gotham City.
Talia left the handful of men to their work and went to a small room that used to be the employee lounge, a broken refrigerator and coffee pot missing its glass carafe remained as well as a few chairs and an overturned oval table.
As Talia returned to the impromptu news studio, outside on the frontage road that led to the strip mall, Gwendolyn's heartbeat had just about resumed a normal rhythm when her fear spiked again as he pulled the sturdy vehicle to a stop in the abandoned loading zone of one of the large, former bustling department stores.
Gwendolyn's mouth went dry, and her eyes darted around the empty buildings and no parking spots.
She pressed her lips together as Bane cut the engine and jumped out of the SUV, careful to not look at her, still rattled from what he saw staring back at him from her cerulean blue orbs that pulsed with fear and something else he couldn't identify, but it was enticing.
Gwendolyn was nearly rendered deaf by sound of her blood rushing through her body as she kicked off her shoes, pushed the automatic door lock button and dove across the seat, clawing for the handle that would open the heavy driver's side door.
She had read Bane wrong, misinterpreted his bulk and size as equating to that of a slow, land mammal. Gwendolyn had no idea that she was the gazelle standing amongst the green grass of the Savannah, under the watchful eyes of an apex predator.
Bane licked his lips behind his mask, salivating at the anticipation of the hunt as Gwendolyn got herself out of the tall SUV, her bare feet hitting the uneven, patchy asphalt as she made a beeline back down the frontage road, thinking of the one, solitary car she'd seen as she was driven to the mall, where she was still uncertain would be where she would die.
Gwendolyn's bare feet slapped against the parking lot, pumping her arms as Bane took off after her, expending a quarter of the energy she did as he began to close the distance between them.
Gwendolyn shouted but no one heard except Bane as he drew closer and a couple circling carrion birds that were waiting for their feast to ripen further, anxious for the first beak full of rotten, necrotic flesh.
"No, no, noooooooooo," Gwendolyn howled, screaming to the sunny, cloudless sky as Bane's arms were suddenly around her, wrapping her up like a hungry spider, brute strength instead of silk.
Bane growled as he captured Gwendolyn in his muscular arms, his whole-body tingling from the adrenaline dump and deep inhales he took of his aerosolized Venom, dilating his vessels, bringing more oxygen to expand his lungs inside his massive chest cavity.
"Let me go, stop," Gwendolyn screeched as Bane manipulated his hold on her until he had her pulled so tight to the front of his body that a shaft of sunlight couldn't even slip between them.
Bane shifted his large hands on her lithe frame, ignoring the way her flesh felt behind her designer clothes and covered her mouth with one hand and lifted her off her feet.
Gwendolyn immediately began to kick and thrash as much as his unbreakable hold would allow.
Bane gave a guttural bellow as Gwendolyn bit hard into his scarred hand that covered her lips, her sharp canines piercing his skin.
Bane kept one muscular arm around Gwendolyn's mid-section as fat droplets of blood began to pour from his hand, dripping wetly onto the cracked asphalt.
As soon as Bane's large hand fell away from her face, Gwendolyn threw back her head and shouted up to the sky, her war cry penetrating the stratosphere.
Bane grunted as Gwendolyn kicked her feet erratically, catching the front of his thigh a couple times with her bare heels.
A strangled wheeze came through the front of his mask when Gwendolyn flailed her free arm, managing to catch one of the titanium coils. Her glossy, manicured nails caused the narrow channel which fed his aerosolized Venom to shift, creating a breach.
Gwendolyn cried out as his arm fell away from her and she dropped heavily to the oil-stained ground. Her knees and shins began to bleed from multiple cuts from the impact, small bits of soil and stone jammed themselves into the smooth skin on the top of her feet.
She struggled to her feet as Bane dropped to his knees, the scarred pads of his fingers scrabbling at the titanium coil.
Gwendolyn pivoted sharply and took off running hard, her gait uneven from the tiny lacerations after her abrupt fall.
Bane gasped, his heart threatening to burst through the opaque pericardial sac surrounding it as he fumbled to reattach the tubing. He took a large inhale as the aerosolized Venom filled his spasming lungs, his eyes rapidly dilated in his pulsing orbs as his vision cleared.
He blinked at her retreating form, finding a few moments to admire the way her body moved, the muscles moving under her supple skin as her feet slapped on the asphalt, her arms pumping as she broke out in a fine layer of sweat.
Bane was soon up and on his feet, laser-focused on Gwendolyn as she made a beeline towards an abandoned, chain pizza restaurant.
Gwendolyn spared a glanced back at Bane as he steadily closed the distance between them. She pressed her lips together and forced herself to run faster, refusing to give up even though she was already locked in the jaws of a predator, critical arteries already bisected.
Bane was transfixed by her long locks of hair that swirled around her in liquid, silken waves as he was nearly upon her.
Gwendolyn gave a strangled cry as Bane swept her up in his arms.
From a distance, someone might've thought they were two long-lost lovers that had been separated by drifting continents and had just been reunited, that was not the case.
Gwendolyn practically turned inside out as Bane's large hands roughly spun her around and lifted her in one fluid motion, throwing her over his broad shoulder.
She kicked with the last bit of energy she could muster as Bane growled and kicked open the glass door of the pizza restaurant that still held the barest hint of pepperoni detectable to his enhanced sense of smell.
Gwendolyn continued to howl with rage, clawing at his back, not causing any harm through his reinforced vest.
Her breath left her body when he quickly flipped her the other direction, suddenly finding herself sitting on a dusty, chipped Formica table, the burgundy booth surrounding the table had been gnawed on by critters looking to reinforce the places they laid their rodent heads with the stuffing from the bench seat.
Gwendolyn darted her eyes around the empty restaurant, napkins still in the stainless-steel holder and plastic bottles of ketchup and mustard perched on the tables, the contents long spoiled, the bottles bloated from the contained rot.
Bane remained within arm's length in case she decided to bolt again, he knew that she was tired, trying to hide it as she avoided meeting his eyes.
In the space of time when Bane flicked his eyes to the restaurant's door with the faded logo, Gwendolyn leapt off the table and swung her fist in the direction of his chin.
A small smile flitted over his lips behind his mask as he took a small step back.
All of Gwendolyn's momentum caused her to move past him. Bane gave her a gentle nudge, encouraging her to stumble to the floor. She cried out as her wrist throbbed with the sharp impact.
"Where is it you're trying to go Miss Mourn?" Bane asked as she tried to get to her feet and move towards the pair of swinging doors.
Gwendolyn ignored him and as soon as she rose to her feet, Bane shot his hand out and caught her upper arm, yanking her off balance. Once again, he had to dodge her free hand swinging towards him as she tried to shake off his hold.
"Miss Mourn, stop running, you're not going to be able to hurt me."
"No," Gwendolyn spit, "I'm never going to try to stop getting away," she added and again tried for a close-fisted jab to the center of his masked face.
Bane caught her fist in his large hand, her smooth skin in diametric opposition to his.
"Enough," he roared and swept her up and over his shoulder again, swinging her with more force so that the rounded cap of his shoulder drove the air from her lungs.
As Bane marched back to the SUV and tossed her in the rear row seating, the pop-up news studio his final destination, back at the OWL Newsgroup skyscraper, Gwendolyn's father, Robert Ales, poured another glass of barrel-aged bourbon before he settled behind his sturdy desk.
He took a burning swallow from his glass, the potent booze burning a path down his throat and spreading warmth throughout his chest and belly as his eyes dropped to the cluster of framed photos on his desk's gleaming surface.
Robert's eyes softened when they fell on the photo of his late wife, in the ground for more than a decade. His gaze moved to a picture of Gwendolyn when she was eight, holding a rifle while wearing oversized, fluffy earmuffs.
He'd taken the picture on a camping trip, capturing Gwendolyn when he passed her a rifle for the first time, his heart had swelled as he'd snapped the photo.
He didn't allow himself to slip into a memory or anything that reeked of nostalgia or sentimentality as he dialed his secretary to bring him the footage that had continued to record in the newsroom when it was overtaken by the masked terrorist and armed entourage.
Robert would view the video after he made his secretary lift up her skirt, thinking she was even more beautiful when she cried.