Chapter 2

Author: I want to thank Raisa for commenting on my story! I really appreciate you letting me know that there is someone out there reading and enjoying it!

Disclaimer: I do not own Batman or any of the characters within the franchise. I own the original characters of this story as well as the plot that are not directly tied to the movie.

Myra's routine was similar for another few days with little to no excitement, except for one particular encounter with the man that brought her food. The general routine was for him to bring the food in, place it down, make some level of effort to attract her attention or for her to talk to him, and then leave. However, this day he must have felt emboldened, because he didn't leave. He idled. He even picked up the cards from the fold-out card table, thumbing them around and making a mess. She wondered if he was drunk. She stayed in the corner and let him slide sluggishly around the room before he approached her. He startled her when he dropped his weight forward to slam his palm next to her head, the weight of his body now supported by his palm. This also allowed him to lean forward towards her face, inches away. She tried to smell alcohol on his breath, but didn't, and simply deemed him to be a massive idiot. She tried to focus on this thought instead of the fear that was slowly rising up her chest and gripping her spine.

As he inched forward, she tried sliding away from him, letting her eyes dart towards the door that hung open. He must have been prepared for her to make a dash, for when she bolted, he grabbed her arm and eased her back into the wall.

"Tsk tsk, not so fast sweetheart," he said.

Her eyes narrowed. She hated being called sweetheart. She hated being touched by a disgusting creep even worse.

Her unease and fear were short-lived, however. The man was leaning into her as if to either eat her face or take in her scent when a shadow suddenly consumed both of them. Bane stood just inside the doorway, the light at his back, casting his massive shadow over them like a blanket. The look Bane had on his face was one of surprise at first, seeing Myra up against the wall cringing away from the man he had tasked with bringing her food. It immediately transitioned into anger. Bane looked at Myra's eyes and saw relief that was almost palpable flood across her face as she saw him enter.

Bane stepped towards them, but the man that was intimidating Myra was already slinking away, keeping a wide berth of Bane (which was difficult considering the size of the room, and the size of Bane).

"Get out," Bane barked at the man, who hurried his steps after being given the verbal warning.

Bane watched him as he exited, and then turned back towards Myra. She let out a massive sigh from her chest, slumping back against the wall as if she just trekked up a thousand flight of stairs. She even closed her eyes and let her head fall back against the cement wall before bringing it forward again after she had regained her composure, her eyes settling on Bane with the look of relief still consuming her face. Bane inched closer to her; concern intermingled with anger on his face.

"Did he hurt you?" Bane demanded, letting his eyes roam over her as he said this.

Myra clutched her hands together awkwardly before shaking her head in earnest.

"No he didn't, thank you," she breathed out. Why are you thanking him. He's the reason you're here.

Myra allowed herself to ponder her internal thoughts for a moment before finding an answer. Because he doesn't 'need' to do anything; he could have let that creep do what he wanted with me. He didn't 'need' to intervene. He did because…because why? Myra struggled with the 'why', not expecting to find a distorted sense of chivalry and politeness in the person who held her hostage. It made her extremely confused and slightly uncomfortable to be having positive feelings associations with her captor. She was even more confused about the feeling of safety she felt when she saw Bane and was around him, knowing subconsciously that he was responsible for putting her in an unsafe situation; her mind didn't seem to care about that sordid detail.

Bane regarded her for a moment, perhaps equally surprised at hearing a 'thank you' from his hostage. Bane wasn't one to ignore politeness, however.

"You're welcome," he replied thoughtfully, letting his eyes search hers for several more moments before he moved towards the fold-out card table.

"I believe it would be fair to allow you to choose our activity this evening," Bane stated as he sat down into a chair, nearly collapsing it from his weight.

Myra was once again startled and confused, never having been given the option on what their activity would be; she was only ever grateful that there 'was' an activity. She appreciated that Bane and Barsad took the few minutes to even come down here and keep her entertained for a short period of time, knowing she could easily be perceived as 'just a hostage' without much care taken into her mental wellbeing or boredom. Myra had to think for a moment, letting her mind shift through the options in her mind.

"Can we play a board game?" she asked timidly. She hadn't played a board game with Bane yet; it was always cards. Barsad was the more adventurous laid-back of the pair who seemed to enjoy breaking up the monotony of the activities he engaged in with Myra, more so than Bane who probably had a preference for something quick and easy and could be finished at a moment's notice.

Bane looked up from the stack of cards that were already in his hand, ready to shuffle. He put them down before giving a nod.

"Which board game would you prefer? You may have to explain the rules; I don't take part in board games often," Bane said with mild reluctance.

Myra let herself smile as she hurried over to the stack of old board games that had been next to the fold-out table. She rummaged through them trying to locate one with the least number of missing pieces.

"SCRABBLE!" Myra shouted with enthusiasm, yanking the game from under a stack which resulted in a few of the old shabby board game boxes to topple over into a mess. She didn't care.

Bane observed her as she laid the game down onto the table, opening the box and taking out the tile racks and the fold-out cardboard game board. The wooden tiles were strewn recklessly in the box. She observed that there seemed to be some missing but decided it didn't really matter. She began to mix the tiles up and turn them face-down.

"Have you played Scrabble?" Myra asked with mild enthusiasm.

Bane was watching her as she set the game up with curiosity, shaking his head at her question.

"No," he said simply.

Myra finished turning the tiles face-down, putting one of the tile racks in front of him.

"It's pretty simple; you form words with your word tiles and count up the points. A double or triple letter word or word space will give you more points. The person with the most points at the end wins!" Myra exclaimed, excited to be playing Scrabble with someone who hadn't played before. She picked out seven tiles for herself and seven for Bane, indicating for him to put them in his tile rack. "You get to pick up new tiles after you use up the ones on that rack there," Myra continued.

Bane simply nodded, absorbing the information he gave her.

"I'll start," Myra finished, placing the first word on the board.

It wasn't long before the game was eventually over. It is safe to say that Bane absolutely destroyed her.

Myra fancied herself a formidable Scrabble player. That was, until she played with Bane. He was coming up with words she hadn't even heard of.

"What? Brux? What the heck is brux? Is that even a word? You're making it up. You can't play it unless you actually know what it means," Myra argued, clearly annoyed.

"It certainly is," Bane's voice said with slight inflection as he defended himself. "It means to clench and grind the teeth," he explained, making (what Myra assumed) were chomping and grinding motions with his teeth for emphasis. All she heard was the sound; she couldn't actually see him perform these actions since his mask obscured his face.

Myra stared at him with an unimpressed expression.

"…you are making me clench and grind my teeth," she mumbled.

Bane simply stared at her, his eyebrows rising as if he were waiting for her to come up with more arbitrary rules.

"You should only be allowed to play words that I know," Myra quipped.

"Then I would hardly be able to play any words," Bane teased.

"That's rude," Myra said, although she had a hard time restraining herself from smiling at his well-played insult. Before she knew it, she started laughing for several seconds before stopping herself. It started so abruptly, it startled her. She realized that was also the first time in days, weeks, since she genuinely smiled or laughed at something. Perhaps even well before she was even taken hostage.

"That was funny," she finally confessed.

"What was?" Bane asked curiously.

"Your joke," Myra said, a smile still on her face.

"I told a joke?" Bane asked seriously.

Myra's smile faltered as she slammed her hands on the table and lifted her eyes to give him a huge stink eye. Her eyes softened considerably when she saw something she hadn't seen before on his face; deep crinkles at the corners of his eyes. She realized he must be smiling under the mask. She couldn't see his face since it was deeply obscured by the contraption that covered it, but the crow's feet and scrunching of skin on either corner of his eyes were unmistakably human characteristics of a smile. It was contagious, because she started smiling again.

"Didn't you grow up in a prison? Shouldn't you be a little more….?" Myra started to question; she wasn't sure how to finish the sentence but let her eyes narrow at the implications of her question. Dense, stupid, she thought inwardly. She felt emboldened and retaliatory over the tease he delivered her.

Bane replied without missing a beat.

"The options in prison were either reading or fighting. Besides, didn't you grow up in a privileged household with proper education? Shouldn't you be a little bit more…..?" Bane retorted.

Myra stared back at Bane with an air of being offended, but in reality, she was impressed.

"Touché," she finally replied.

Myra started to wonder where his well of knowledge was coming from. She let her eyes roam from his eyes up his forehead and finally to his bald head as if she were staring directly into his brain and seeing rows and rows of 'knowledge'.

"Alright. I concede, you win," Myra finally said after tallying up the score. She didn't want to show Bane the score; his score was almost triple what hers was.

"Let's play Scrabble again; that game was admittedly quite enjoyable," Bane mused, surprising Myra by willingly prolonging his stay.

She nodded with a smile, taking the tiles off of the board and reshuffling them. She already knew he was going to win even before she started distributing the tiles.

The second time around, he went easy on her and only beat her by twice her score. She also had a sneaking suspicion that he was internally keeping track of the score without the use of the piece of paper and chubby pencil nub she was using that came with the contents of the game box.

"How long have you been following Bane?" Myra asked Barsad the following day.

Barsad lifted his eyes up at her from the deck of cards in his hand. He simply stared at her, making it obvious he wasn't in the mood to divulge personal information.

Myra sighed dramatically and stretched herself chest-down on the table, blocking him from distributing the cards. "Come on, you and Bane are the only people I get to talk to. It's not like I'm asking you to tell me your social security number".

Barsad continued to stare at her as he held the deck of cards in his hand before he gave a sigh.

"Years," was his answer.

"Did you grow up in a prison too?" Myra asked.

Barsad looked up at her, a mild look of startlement crossing his face. Clearly he was surprised she knew 'that bit' of information about Bane. He stared at her skeptically before responding simply.

"No," he said.

"Then where did you grow up?" Myra asked.

"You wouldn't have heard of it," Barsad replied.

"Ooookay….what about Bane? Where does he come from? His accent is very peculiar. I don't think I've ever heard it before."

Again, more staring.

"Why are you even down here if you aren't going to talk? At least Bane talks," Myra whined.

"You seem to do enough talking for the both of us," Barsad finally sniped.

Myra let herself smile then at the vague insult Barsad directed at her.

"Perhaps I'm talking because I have to compensate since you are clearly too afraid to talk to me?"

Myra was surprised at how easily Barsad took her bait.

"I'm not afraid to talk to you," he scowled, giving her a look as if measuring her up by her physical prowess.

"You fooled me," Myra said.

Barsad narrowed his eyes at her, his lips working into a line.

"What are you guys anyway? Terrorists? What's your plan?" Myra asked.

Barsad eyed her. "While I'm sure some would think so, we are mercenaries."

Myra rose her brows.

"Oh. I feel like that implies someone is paying you then. Paying you for what? Who's paying you? Who's in charge?" Myra rattled off.

This was too much for Barsad. He decided to shut down and keep his lips shut tight.

"Okay, fine. If you can't tell me who you work for, what your goal is, where you're from, then maybe tell me a little bit more about you personally. I'm curious to know what kind of life a mercenary leads. Do you have a wife? Kids?" Myra inquired.

Myra was startled with Barsad's response.

"Yes," he said.

Myra jumped at the small bit of information being fed to her.

"Yes to what? You have a wife? Kids?" she asked in a rush.

Barsad kept his expression passive. "I have a wife."

"You do?! Where is she? Why doesn't she stay with you here?" Myra asked, her curiosity piqued.

"Because it's not safe here," Barsad replied with just the faintest note of sadness in his voice.

That answer took her by surprise. Not safe 'here'? With Bane's men? She could understand that, considering the militaristic nature of the men she saw. Or here in Gotham? The thought of it not being safe in Gotham seemed ridiculous, considering how well Commissioner Gordan did with cleaning up the streets and reducing the general crime rate.

Her next question flew out of her mouth before she could stop herself, her curiosity making her anxious to know the answer, not even sure why she wanted to know the answer.

"Does Bane have a wife too?" she asked somewhat cautiously.

Barsad lifted his eyes at her, letting his eyes roam her face as if he were trying to determine if there was a hidden agenda to her question before answering. Myra didn't realize she was experiencing a moderate level of anticipation for the answer.

"No," Barsad said simply.

Myra let out a sigh, though immediately corrected herself and gave Barsad a look as if she were caught walking on wet cement. Barsad was eyeing her coyly before he put a card down on the table to take a new one from the top of the stack, their game continuing with no further discussion about their personal lives.

When Bane came back again for his scheduled visit, he was eager to play Scrabble again. He even grabbed the box from the pile of games before she even indicated what her preference for an activity was.

"I don't want to play with you. You're no fun to play with. You always win,", Myra confessed.

Bane looked up from the box in his hands, analyzing her for a moment before speaking.

"I'll give you a handicap; you may double your score at the end of the game," he compromised.

Myra sighed; she couldn't bring herself to say no, enjoying the enthusiasm he was demonstrating at playing a game with her. However, he won by so much that it wasn't challenging or fun for her. He was always ready to play a word and acted and responded as if he had his next 10 words all ready to go (which Myra knew was impossible. Was it though?). When she sat at her chair looking at her tiles and thinking of words to play, Bane always stared at her as if he were impatient for her to make a move. She decided she needed to take drastic measures. She 'accidentally' stepped on and spilled water over the board the next morning she knew it would be Bane's turn to visit her.

When Bane entered the room and was presented with the ruined box, he stared at it for several moments as if unable to vocalize the grief he felt. Myra felt her chest clench at his saddened expression. He exited the room quickly then without saying another word. He came back approximately an hour later with a brand-new Scrabble board, fresh in plastic packaging with no missing pieces.

"Great," Myra said. She created a monster.

Another week passed by, though Myra was starting to feel the foul effects of hygiene. During a titillating round of 'Go Fish' with Bane which Myra was able to convince Bane into playing to give their Scrabble fix a break, she decided it would be appropriate to ask for either a shower or a change of clothes considering she had turned her clothes inside out at least twice to avoid the stink of sweat and body odor. Bane appeared as if he hadn't even considered she may have a need for these things but agreed to them albeit reluctantly.

The following day Bane provided her with several fresh pairs of baggy sweat pants, a tank top, women's underwear of various sizes (it was obvious whoever picked them had no clue how to gauge a women's size), and several shirts she could use. He also arranged to have her follow him to the underground water reflow system where he and his men resided. He had her blind-folded when this was done so that she wasn't going to be able to relay information to the police concerning the location of their whereabouts, though Myra doubted the utility of the blindfold considering it seemed pretty obvious they were entering a manhole. She did get lost, however, during their trek down the long echoing tunnels below ground, the sound of water dripping from the ceiling slightly masking their steps.

Bane brought her to a room with a shower, mirror, and pedestal sink with generic shampoo, soap, and a tattered brown towel. He led her inside and provided her privacy by shutting the door and making sure no one entered while she was showering.

"You have 5 minutes," Bane said to her as the door clicked.

When Myra was done showering, changed into a fresh pair of sweat pants, underwear, and a t-shirt with seconds to spare, she paused outside of the door and gave Bane a look to indicate she was ready. Bane grabbed the blind fold that covered her face from his pocket. As he was bringing it down over her eyes to secure it in place, Myra saw across the hall the man that use to bring her food but had since had his services discontinued. He was speaking to several other men and pointed in her general direction, and all three pair of eyes turned in unison to stare at her. Blackness covered her vision as the blindfold was secured over her eyes and she was led back up to her utility closet room in the underground parking garage by Bane, who guided her by holding her upper arm and steering her. Myra didn't feel particularly well after that from the looks the men gave her, despite wearing fresh clothes and her hygiene considerably improved.

Barsad had been watching the exchange idly from a seated position, polishing a gun just outside the door. His astute senses had picked up on the behavior of the three men almost immediately and noted their body language and the insinuations in their gestures. Barsad kept his face passive and disinterested but made a mental note.

"Can I go for a walk around the garage? Or a run?" Myra asked Barsad, hoping he would be slightly more lenient than Bane. "My legs are getting cramps and I feel like I need to run or something."

Barsad looked at her as if he were strongly considering it before giving a flat "No" for an answer. Myra let her demeanor slump as she settled into the fold-out chair as Barsad set up a checker board, knowing she didn't have the mental capacity to argue her case.

The following day, however, when it was Bane's turn to keep her company, she thought she would try her luck with him anyway.

"Can I go for a walk, jog, or run around the parking garage? My legs are getting cramps," Myra stated mildly, not wanting to sound like she was complaining but merely stating a fact.

Bane gave her a look before his eyes fell to her legs as if he were able to see the cramps pop up through her baggy pants. He looked back up at her. Myra could tell he was internally working things out. He pulled out a phone then, using the text feature to send a message. Myra continued to wait for some type of response, wondering if he got distracted by some other business with his phone.

She got her answer, however, when he stepped away from the entrance to the utility closet and motioned for her with an arm for her to proceed outside. Myra had to withhold herself from jumping up in excitement. As she stepped outside, she saw Barsad rounding the corner and giving her the most unimpressed look she had ever seen on an individual.

"Barsad here will make sure you don't stray too far outside the perimeter I set for you," Bane stated. As he said this, he moved to Myra and grabbed her upper arm to get her attention before raising a hand and pointing it into the far corners of the garage, right before they transitioned into a ramp leading up.

"Don't go past those points. Barsad has my permission to use whatever force necessary to stop you from proceeding to the upper levels of the garage. I wouldn't test him if I were you," Bane said with a slight hint of humor, though Myra couldn't find anything humorous about it.

Myra looked over at Barsad. He wasn't necessarily "seething", but she could tell he wasn't too happy at her successful attempt at convincing Bane to let her outside to have a run and jog, particularly when she had asked Barsad first and he had already said no. On top of that, Barsad was given the extra task of keeping up with her or run after her if she decided to make a run for it or got too close to the perimeter that Bane established.

Myra smiled teasingly at Barsad. If one parent says no, who says you can't ask the other one?

"Well, I hope Barsad can keep up with me. They used to call me 'Mad-Dash Myra' back in my track and field days," Myra claimed. No one ever called her that. She was never in track and field. Ever.

Bane and Barsad just stared at her, letting her get her grand proclamations off of her chest. She started to stretch dramatically, making sure she wasn't too tense to properly 'run'. Without another word, she started sprinting away from the pair. She tried sprinting as fast as she could, but it came off more as a slow jog before she finally stopped and starting heaving. She looked to the side and saw Barsad walking alongside her. She wasn't sure if he had followed her into a sprint, or if she was so slow that he simply walked up to her since she hadn't made much clearance in her distance. She straightened her back, resting her hands on her hips and giving a groan.

"Ahhhh….be lucky I'm not as fast as I usually am," Myra sighed. She finally slumped down onto the floor from the mild exertion she experienced, lying face down into the cement in a dramatic gesture.

Barsad simply stared at her antics before his eyes rose up to Bane, who was observing the ordeal with a moderate level of amusement. He started walking towards them, stopping right next to Myra, the toes of his boot inches from her nose.

"What's this? I thought you wanted to have a jog?" Bane teased.

Myra simply groaned, bringing a hand up to rest against her cheek and to use it as a pillow between the cement ground and her skin.

"Being stuck in a closet all day and all night for weeks doesn't necessarily foster cardio development," Myra confessed.

Bane looked down at her, crossing his arms over his chest.

"You aren't going back into the closet room until you do 50 solid laps around. If you take a break between those 50 laps, you start over."

Myra rolled her head to the side and gave him an expression that indicated she wished a plague upon him and his family. When she didn't move or get up, Bane bent one knee to get closer to her head.

"Do you wish for us to be here all evening?" Bane inquired.

"Yes," Myra confessed.

"If you don't complete the task I have given you in the next 20 minutes, then neither Barsad or I will visit you the following day, or the day after. It's your choice."

With that, Bane stood up and gazed down at her with his arms crossed over his chest.

"The clock is ticking," he said.

Myra hustled to her feet, and without further fuss began jogging around the perimeter. She did pause to catch her breath once, to which she heard Bane shout "Your laps have been reset!" to Myra's dismay. She decided to complete the task at a slower and more moderate pace in hopes of completing it time.

When she finally counted to '50', her body was practically spent and screaming at her to lay down. She complied by dropping to her knees and easing herself forward onto her chest on the ground, her chest rising and falling with the huge breaths that she was taking to accommodate the lack of oxygen her blood felt from the exertion she experienced from the sudden exercise she put it through.

Bane sauntered up to her as she lay prone on ground.

"Feel better?" he asked with a mild hint of humor laced in his voice. Myra didn't respond, not even sure she could respond given how heavy her breathing was. Bane watched her for several more moments, waiting for her to catch her breath and regain her energy.

Several more moments went by as Bane waited for her to get up. Myra was perfectly content resting and possibly even sleeping on the cement.

"Can I just sleep here? I can't get up. I don't think I can feel my legs," Myra begged.

"No," Bane said. Before Myra could respond, she felt a strong hand grab her arm and roll her onto her back roughly. She stared up at Bane, who was crouched down over her and giving her a stern look. Before she could question his motives or exclaim that she needed more time on the ground to recover, he shimmied his arms underneath her knees and under her shoulders and lifted her up off of the ground. Myra gasped at the abruptness of his actions before wrapping an arm casually around his neck for support. She knew he was strong just by looking at him, but feeling his arms supporting her made her hyper aware of how much strength he actually possessed. She felt his muscles pressed against her body, and they were considerably solid. She wanted to describe them as feeling like 'rocks'; but rocks don't feel good against the skin. His 'rocks' did. Her eyes focused on his mask and the faint breathing that came through it. Myra found it extremely soothing and relaxing. She wanted to touch it.

Before she could help herself, she reached out and let her fingertips touch the tip of it. She startled herself at her boldness, her eyebrows raising as if she slapped herself in the face. Bane turned his eyes to look at her, though his eyes didn't indicate any warning that she crossed a boundary she shouldn't cross and should immediately cease her idle hands from touching his mask. They only regarded her with equal curiosity.

Bane brought her back to the utility closet with ease, bending down into the corner where the nest of sleeping bags was before depositing her gently onto them. Myra felt herself become inexplicably disappointed when he set her down. He stood up after completing his task, giving her a nod of approval.

"Your legs will be sore tomorrow. Don't forget to stretch them, or you won't be able to walk for a few days." Before she could reply, he turned and exited the room. Barsad moved to the entrance of the room then, giving her a stern look before he let his lips upturn into a faint smile as if to say, "Serves you right for trying to bypass my authority."

Myra simply glared at him back, though it was superficial. She didn't feel any animosity towards anyone or anything at that moment, her mind idly thinking about 'rocks'.

The following day as Barsad was methodically polishing another rifle with a toothpick in his mouth, he saw the three men he had observed from the other day that had been focused on Myra. They were huddled together in what seemed like a personal exchange before they sauntered off down the hallway that would eventually lead to a manhole exit. This hallway wasn't commonly used, however, since it only had one manhole to choose from. It was also a manhole that was used to access the underground parking garage. Barsad gave a sigh, spitting his toothpick out and carefully leaning the rifle against the cement wall before standing and making his way to search for Bane.

Meanwhile, Myra was idly sifting through the pages of a book she had already read, forgetting to ask Bane for a fresh new stack of books the last time she saw him. The door to the utility closet opened slowly. She looked up casually, expecting to see either Barsad or Bane, but instead she saw three men, two of whom she didn't know or recognize. She knew who the other one was, and fear ran up her spine, making her numb. It was the man who use to bring her food, until Bane removed his responsibilities as food deliverer due to his inappropriate advances. She immediately got up off the bed and retreated into the corner, looking around the room for anything that she could use as a shield or a weapon in case the need arose. Finding nothing, she planted her palms back against the wall, ready to propel herself away at any moment if need be.

The men sauntered in, the one who she knew as the blatant asshole with a death wish giving her a sneer.

"See? I told you guys. All alone down here," he said to the other two individuals.

Myra shifted her eyes to the two other occupants, both of them looking considerably paler and more uncomfortable than Mr. Asshole. They looked as if they may not have believed his word and had asked him to prove evidence for his claim, and now that he had, they realized they were in an uncomfortable situation.

"Alright, I believe you…I'm pretty sure Bane wouldn't be too happy finding us down here though…" one of them stammered out.

The other one chimed in, agreeing with him.

"Yeah, Jay, we shouldn't be here". So Mr. Assholes name was "Jay", Myra thought. Noted.

Jay wrote them off with a wave of his hand.

"Quit being so scared. Bane or Barsad won't be down here for hours. I know their schedule, remember?" he said with unfounded confidence.

Myra stared the entire time during this exchange, back and forth between the men, hoping – wishing, their conclusion would be to her favor. When one of the men reached behind his head to scratch idly as if juggling the pros and cons of the situation internally, he finally sighed as if in agreement. Myra's heart sank.

Jay turned to look at Myra, fear clearly written on her face.

"Hey honey, don't worry. We won't hurt you. We only want a touch. It gets pretty lonely down here, don't you want to do us a favor?" Myra swallowed nervously, not sure if he was being rhetorical or genuine with his question. She decided he was being genuine.

"No," she stammered out.

Jay pretended to be hurt by her answer, bringing up a hand to his heart as if feigning his heart being crushed.

"Oh…that hurts, doll. You should make it up to me," he said as he slowly advanced towards her. Myra reacted by sliding herself against the wall in the opposite direction but was eventually impeded by the severe lack of square footage in the room.

Jay finally made his way to her, standing a foot directly in front of her. She could smell his stink, deciding it was his personality she was smelling and not just his body odor. He lifted a hand to touch her face. She flinched away from the unwelcome touch. Jay responded by grabbing her chin forcibly, letting one of his dirty thumbs slide along her bottom lip. Myra paused, before she chomped down on it suddenly, drawing blood.

"OWAHHH! DAMN IT. GOD….damn. BITCH!" Jay shouted, bringing a hand up and punching her right in the eye, causing her to lurch sideways against the wall. She brought her hand up to cover her injured eye, and as she did so she felt Jay roughly swing her around so that her chest was pressed against the wall.

"Damn bitch…gah that hurts. Guys, help me hold her so she doesn't try to bite me again," Jay ordered.

The two men reluctantly moved forward and stood on either side of Myra, each taking one of her arms and holding and forcing it against the wall to keep her body in place. Jay, with his hands now free, reached down and scraped his nails along her hips before moving them back up to work at the front of his pants suggestively.

"We have to do this quick so that we each have a turn," he said through impatient breaths.

Myra's ears were ringing. She couldn't believe what was happening. She started to scream and struggle against the two men holding her. This only made Jay mad, who slapped the side of her face with an open palm.

"Stop it or we'll tape your mouth," he barked at the back of her head. Myra cringed at the shock of the hand making contact with the side of her face, closing her eyes hoping that if she couldn't see anything then nothing bad would happen to her. She wasn't ready for this. Of course, no one is ready for a situation like this. Her ears started ringing again.

The men were too busy to notice the massive figure that took up most of the space in the door frame. As Jay worked to zip his pants down, he saw the expression of one of the men. He was looking straight at the door, and he looked like he was about to wet himself. Jay looked down after hearing the sound of water dripping and saw that there was indeed a urine trail from his crotch all the way down to his foot where it drizzled on the floor. Jay snapped his head back to see what gave this man so much terror, quickly zipping his pants back up. He had barely turned before a giant hand encased his face and another one reached for and started crushing his wind pipe. Bane squeezed harder to hear neck bone snapping, discarding the body to the floor. The other two men looked down at Jay's dead body, knowing their only chance of survival was through the use of offensive fighting against Bane, but both of them seemed too scared or shocked to make a move. Bane took advantage of their hesitancy, lifting one of them up full-body to be thrown at the other, both of their bodies landing on the floor. Bane stepped towards them before they could right themselves and stand up from their tangled-limbed mess.

Bane let his weight drop down on one of them knee-first on the skull, his knee straining against their head before a crunch and a 'pop' was heard, skull cracking from the friction of Bane's knee against bone. Bane stayed kneeling while he reached over and dealt with the other man who had the misfortune of being stuck under the man with the crushed skull. Bane went easy on him by finishing him off like Jay by crunching his throat like popcorn.

Once Bane was done with his chore, he gave a deep sigh and looked around at the carnage. His demeanor quickly transitioned from one of raging chaos back to composed tactician with two deep breaths. After he calmed himself, he let his eyes lift to Myra, who stood petrified in the corner with her face and body still planted against the wall, her hands now covering her face. He wasn't quite sure what she had seen but decided it would be a good idea to remove her from the room as quickly as possible so that a clean-up could be performed to remove any evidence of blood and urine. Bane stood up with a grunt, turning towards Barsad who had stood idly at the door the whole time and had an expression of boredom on his face.

"Arrange to have this mess cleaned up," Bane told Barsad. Barsad nodded and turned away to locate the proper tools and supplies to carry out the deed.

Bane turned back to give his attention to Myra. He stepped over the bodies and organic matter on the floor with care, not wanting to draw attention to the carnage on the floor. Myra kept her face covered with her hands as Bane approached her and she felt a soft grip take hold of her upper arm and gently turn and ease her away from the wall. Myra compiled due to the gentleness of the grip but kept her hands in place to cover her face. Bane decided it was probably best for her to keep her eyes covered, so he led her from the room, taking care to make sure she didn't step on any bodies.

Once outside of the room, Bane reached up and coaxed her hands from her face. Bane's eyes immediately shifted towards Myra's eye that was starting to swell from being struck.

"Come. Let's get you fixed up," Bane said as if he were proposing they bake cookies together.

Myra complied readily to being guided away from the room that smelled like urine and blood. She didn't physically see Bane attacking the men, but the noises that were made – like the stomach-churching crunches, splitting, snapping, organic matter spilling, oozing – was fuel for her imagination and nightmares. He killed his own men…She thought, worry spreading across her face. Why did he do that? Was it because they disobeyed his orders? Was it because of his mother and his personal feelings about rape? Or…was it because they were touching me – hurting me?

Bane lead her to the entrance of the underground reflow base, knowing she wasn't wearing a blindfold but knew, since she was smart, that she had guessed where the entrance already was. He did request she cover her eyes once they made their way to the damp underground, however. "Cover your eyes with your hands, please", Bane said politely, as if he hadn't just totally decimated three grown men under his charge.

Myra did as she was told, though her injured eye was starting to sting from being touched. Bane guided them as they walked for minutes until they reached a main component of where he and his men set up camp. He led her to an area that looked as if it was where meals were prepared and served. He led her to a chair and eased her down into it.

"Wait here," he said, before turning around and rummaging around in a refrigerator box.

Myra simply watched him from the chair, her hands clutching and twisting together at the new and unusual situation she was in. She saw Bane come back clutching a large piece of processed meat before slapping it up against her wounded eye roughly, causing her to jump and flinch. One of his hands reached down to grab and guide hers to the piece of meat covering her eye while his other held the back of her head to keep her head in place while he held the cold meat over her eye.

"Keep that there for an hour. It will still be black but at least it won't swell further," Bane said as he leaned back and appraised her, removing his hands. Myra looked back at him with one eye, feeling like a pirate, but grateful for the care he provided her.

"Don't you have ice? Wouldn't that be better? Is this sterile? Am I going to get…bacteria on my face?" Myra asked hesitantly, knowing some of her concerns were impossible if not down-right stupid.

Bane ignored her concerns.

"Did he injure you anywhere else?" Bane asked almost reluctantly, looking her over with his eyes, trying to detect red blotches on her clothes to indicate further injuries. Myra shook her head, readjusting the grip she had on the cold meat.

"No…no they didn't," she said with a hint of gratitude.

Bane nodded at her words, seemingly satisfied.

"I'll come back here in an hour to fetch you," Bane said, before giving her one final look and stalking off.

Myra's eyes wandered around awkwardly. She looked at the knives on the kitchen table, at the meat tenderizer, and the forks…she swallowed, wondering what state of mind Bane would be in to let one of his hostages sit in his mess hall for an hour unsupervised. While the notion of grabbing a knife, a fork, or even the meat tenderizer seemed appealing, she hadn't felt the need to protect herself from physical harm – until today, that is. She also had the sneaking suspicion that after today, no one else was going to bother her – or even look at her. That knowledge in itself was the best sort of defense mechanism that she could hope for. What she wanted from this mess hall, however, was something else. Her eyes wandered to the bushels and storage of food. She slowly rose from her chair.

Bane came back almost exactly an hour later to find Myra not in her seat. He huffed out an irritated sigh, knowing if she tried to escape she would undoubtedly get lost in the maze of the outflow system. It would only be a headache on his part because he would have to dispatch men that had better things to do than to go on a hunt for a missing hostage. His eyes caught movement near one of the food storage containers, however, and he saw Myra staring straight back at him with a large mouthful of pecans sticking out of her mouth. She looked as if she were being caught red-handed in a jewel heist.

Bane sauntered over to her.

"What do you think you're doing?" he asked sternly. Myra simply stared back, deploying the mechanism of holding very still in hopes that he wouldn't be able to see her. Bane rose his brow when she didn't answer, letting his face drop forward a bit to indicate he was waiting for a reply.

Myra finally resumed chewing her food, enough so that she could swallow and speak intelligibly to him. She was savoring the taste of something new after weeks of monotony.

"Eating," she said through a mouthful of pecans. Bane eyed her again, his eyes traveling from the hand that covered the piece of cold meat over her wounded eye to the other hand that was already dipped into the bag of pecans, and then back up to the single eye staring straight back at him.

Bane reached out and grabbed the piece of cold meat that she clung to her eye socket as well as the pecan bag that she had snuck her hand into. He threw the piece of meat into a trash receptacle and placed the pecan bag on the counter, out of her reach. As he did so, his eyes roamed the knives, forks, and various tools used to serve food strewn across the tables easy for the taking. Her eyes were following his as he did this to see where his attention was focused, and when he turned back to her, she returned his gaze innocently. He eyed her suspiciously, knowing the arsenal of weapons she had the potential of taking and concealing from the dining area.

"Did you take anything else? This will be the only time I ask you, and you had better answer truthfully," Bane asked in almost a sing-song voice like he was scolding and threatening a child.

Myra simply responded to him by giving him a deadpan face and lowering her brows, looking insulted.

"No, of course I didn't," she said with mild irritation. Bane looked at her face, knowing she was more than likely telling the truth. He regarded that fact for a moment, contemplating why he instinctually thought that, realizing then that she had been a model hostage up to that point. She was polite, hadn't tried to escape, and had done what she was told (to some extent). He even marveled at her composure; any other person would probably be in a crying fit after being nearly raped. Myra seemed to just take it in stride.

Bane wasn't alive today by making assumptions, however.

"Spread your legs," Bane ordered gruffly.

Myra simply stared at him as if he were asking her to sprout wings and fly away. When she didn't initially respond, but instead stood there in shock giving him a look of mild disbelief, Bane raised his eyebrow at her to indicate he wasn't in the mood to reissue the order. Myra complied, sighing as if she were being terribly inconvenienced, but also felt a mild sting against her chest. She felt she had developed a moderate level of trust with her captor, and for him to not believe her now was a little disheartening. She took one of her feet and jumped out to the side so that she looked like she was doing a frozen jumping jack, even going so far as to raise her arms as if she were being screened in an airport TSA screening terminal for explosive devices.

Bane moved to stand behind her as he started patting her down, letting his hands roughly press into any crevice on her body that had even the slightest capability of concealing a weapon. His hands were firm and were thorough in their search with no hints of being squeamish, hesitant, or modest. Myra looked off to the side, letting her eyes roam as he performed this task so that her mind could focus on something other than his large hands touching her body, leaving a trail of tingling sensations where they swept over it. She tried not to think about how those hands just moments earlier killed three grown men effortlessly as if they were toothpicks; all he would have to do was twitch or sneeze and he would probably fracture something. Steering her mind away from negative thoughts actually had the inadvertent effect of causing her to focus on the positive side of the situation. Although his hands were firm and even a bit rough, the feeling wasn't unpleasant. Actually, Myra realized, it was quite the opposite. Redness speckled her cheeks as she began to blush. She also had an inkling that he had an ulterior motive aside from just searching her for weapons, though she assumed that he would never admit to or hint at anything unchivalrous in his actions as his hands roamed over her body.

Bane performed the task quickly as if he'd patted down thousands of individuals – which he probably had. She heard him lower himself into a crouching position so he could sweep his hands along her legs and up into her inner thigh. She jumped when she felt his hand brush a particularly sensitive region, causing her to turn a more ferocious color of red, though Bane didn't seem to notice or just regarded her behavior as ridiculous. He stood up after completing the task, seeming pacified after finding no hidden weapons. Ignoring her red face, he reached out and grabbed the bag of pecans that he left on the counter and grabbed her upper arm to steer her out of the eating hall. Myra tried forcing her mind away from the sensations she felt from the brief physical encounter, forcing her mind to focus on the pecan bag that he grabbed off the counter. She hoped it indicated that he meant to let her have them. She ached for something to eat other than the potatoes, carrots, and bruised apples and cheese sandwiches she ate every day. Redness continued to stain her cheeks, however, despite her attempts at creating a new string of thought as Bane lead her out of the eating hall.

Bane led her further into the location of the underground base where he and his men resided, Myra noting the smell of dampness and filth wafting around as well as the periodic sound of running water indicating they were walking over running water and large pipes. He eventually led her to a makeshift canopy that protected an array of electrical equipment from dripping water from the condensation and leaks caused by the water outflow system. A cot with a disheveled blanket and pillow abutted the electrical equipment. The electrical equipment included a matrix of monitors and screens. Whoever slept here obviously enjoyed being close to the tactical information and displays. Myra let her eyes wander to a small fire pit not far from the cot with a tea kettle and an old tin cup next to it.

"This will be your room for now until we clean up the mess," Bane said as he turned her away from the electrical equipment and led her into a door that was directly next to one of the canopy posts. Bane led her inside and gave her a few moments to take in her surroundings.

Myra noted that it was the same room that she took a shower in not too long ago. The room was roughly twice the size of Myra's utility closet confines. The room had some added features which included an old pedestal sink against one wall with a mirror hinged over a medicine cabinet as well as a small door next to the sink that opened to a toilet and a shower that was simply a showerhead sticking out from the side of the wall, old subway tile lining the walls and the floor that lead to the shower drain on the floor next to the toilet. Myra pondered why a room with these kinds of amenities even existed underground in the sewers but didn't ponder too long about it. There was also a mountain of books in one corner, the notion of a bookshelf seemingly abandoned. There was a military cot with a military blanket in the room too which looked relatively unused. She turned back towards the cot in the corner and then back to him.

"Who's room is this?" Myra asked which was the first question that popped into her mind.

Bane eyed her briefly before responding.

"Mine, but I don't sleep here often. I sleep directly outside primarily. I do enjoy the use of water and other amenities in here, though, so there will be some compromise on your end. I hope that won't be an issue?" Bane asked as if she were an overnight guest who had a legitimate voice in the matter.

She stared back at him humorlessly before nodding.

"Does anyone else use the stuff in here?" she asked.

"No, I'm the only one allowed in here," Bane said before sweeping his eyes around the room.

He spotted an ammo bag with a pistol on top of it and went to retrieve it, considering it most definitely an inappropriate item to let her have while she occupied the room. He did a second sweep in case he forgot something else, satisfied when he didn't see anything. He looked back at her and gave her a look indicating now was the time for any additional questions or requests before she was going to be left alone for an unspecified amount of time. She simply stared back as if engaging in a staring contest but conceded when she let her eyes drop and roam to the cot. Bane nodded at this, sensing no further questions or concerns, before exiting the room to shut and lock the door. But not before he placed the bag of pecans on the cot.