Author: This is it you guys. If you only ever want to read 'fluff' between Myra and Bane, STOP NOW. This chapter is….not fluff. :/ (at least not the second half, anyway). It's going to be a rollercoaster for a few chapters here on out as tensions run high as the neutron bomb explosion countdown dwindles down. BUCKLE IN AND HOLD ON TO YOUR BUTTS.
Also, apologies for this chapter being just…so long. There was a lot of stuff I needed to cram into it. I almost felt the same urgency one feels when they know a blizzard is about to hit so they have to hurry and get to the store and stock up on milk and bread before shit happens.
Also, you guys. WOW WITH THE REVIEWS. HOLY COW. AMAZING. I AM LITERALLY SPEECHLESS. WAY TO MAKE A GIRL CRY (from happiness). I really can't express how happy I get reading your reviews. You absolutely made my day/week and definitely bolstered me into hurry up with this chapter despite my reluctance because 'shit be goin' down'. Every time I got a review, I STOPPED WHAT I WAS DOING and worked on finishing the next chapter :P I'm not lying! Your reviews helped grease the ol' engine and are extremely motivating and encouraging and make me feel 'so dang good'. PLEASE PLEASE KEEP IT UP.
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.
Warning: Domestic abuse in this chapter/possible triggering. You've been warned.
Time to Neutron Bomb Explosion: 2 Months
Myra couldn't stop thinking about the piece of paper that the prostitute gave her that indicated that Myra could help stop the bomb and save lives with the clear phone number listed below the scribbled message. While she knew, vaguely, it was Bane's plan for the neutron bomb to go off, she had pushed that fact into the back recesses of her mind. He had eased her into a sense of safety and security, going so far as to convince her that she had nothing to worry about; and she believed him. She realized how selfish that was for not fully analyzing the smooth words he fed her that convinced her that she was going to be safe and shouldn't worry or fixate on the neutron bomb detonation since it would lead her to conclude that just because 'she' was going to be safe, didn't mean than everyone else was.
She could feel part of her mind and heart tugging at her to go into action to help prevent an event that could save millions of individuals; faceless individuals that she didn't even personally. She felt like that lack of connection to these faceless citizens had helped her maintain her ignorance up to this point. She couldn't remain ignorant and naïve forever, however, and started to realize the astronomical amount of guilt that would build up and destroy her if she chose to do nothing. It wasn't just the fact that there would be millions of deaths that she could prevent; what would happen afterwards, if Bane were successful, and it was discovered that she had been in his shadow the whole time and even had just a small microscopic chance at stopping the neutron bomb detonation and she didn't? Would that make her just as bad as he was, despite the fact that she still didn't even know what his true intentions or motives were for setting the bomb off in the first place?
The things that probably scared her the most, as selfish as the thoughts were, was that she did not want to go down in history as the idiot who 'should have', but 'didn't' because she was absolutely blind from the feelings and love she had for a certain individual. And even more strikingly, Bane's inevitable disappointment when he realized what she did.
Myra concluded that she had to do something, particularly since there was such a clear call to action that fell into her lap. No one could willingly not help if they had any chance at stopping a neutron bomb from going off, as frightening as that whole notion seemed. Why…am I even in this situation? Oh yeah. Him. Why couldn't he pursue a different hobby? He's brilliant. What drove him down this path?
The real question that Myra should have been asking wasn't 'what' drove him down this path, but 'who'. Talia.
Myra decided to call. She waited until mid-afternoon, knowing Bane never usually made it up to the master suite during this time. She used her phone and dialed the number.
The phone rang several times before a deep male voice picked it up on the other end.
"Hello?" he asked politely.
Myra narrowed her eyes, detesting cold-calls and talking on the phone in general with individuals she didn't know. This particular situation made it all the more awkward; she wasn't sure what she should say, how she should introduce herself, or what to ask. She realized she should have probably prepared herself mentally before even making the call. Myra's silence as she processed these thoughts and dwelled in her silent awkwardness helped bolster the man on the other end to take action.
"You received our note?" he said in a mildly coercive way as if he wished for Myra to simply reply with an affirmation. She complied.
"Yes," Myra said simply, her voice low and mumbled.
"Good. My name is Captain Jones, Special Forces," he said simply, with a long pause. Myra's eyes wandered around, focusing on the wall in front of her.
"Then…you understand that you have the chance at doing a lot of good here, right?" Captain Jones eased out almost reluctantly, casually, Myra even detecting slight nervousness as if he may not be sure what words may trigger her into simply hanging up knowing he probably only had one chance at this conversation with her and that from his perspective millions of lives were hanging on his ability to communicate to Myra in a way that was both persuasive and convincing.
"Yes," Myra confirmed again simply, in a soft and shy voice.
She heard Captain Jones give out a constrained sigh as if he had been holding his breath. He sounded considerably more relieved.
"Good….good. I can tell that you're a caring person and wouldn't want anyone to die," he said slightly more conversationally.
Myra narrowed her eyes at his remark. She didn't like anyone making assumptions about 'knowing' her, particularly if he was probably basing his observation on the few curt responses she gave him. She shoved that annoyance down her chest, waiting for him to continue by providing him with more silence. Her silence fueled him to help fill it with more talk.
"We were informed that it was possible that you were in charge of inventory checks for storage and for supplies that made it into the city; is that correct?" Captain Jones asked.
Myra worked her lips. She felt like she was treading on uncomfortable, traitorous, ground. She also felt uncomfortable at the fact that it seemed like general common knowledge about her position under Bane. Do they know my name? Do they know I was the hostage that he took months ago? Do they think I'm dead or kidnapped again? Will they try and 'rescue' me? She worked her lips for several more moments before giving an answer.
"Yes," she replied.
"Excellent….is it possible for us to work with you to try and get a few of our Special Forces officers inside Gotham?" he asked brazenly, getting right to the point.
Myra's eyes continued to wander on the wall, concluding based on his forwardness and lack of remark about who her identity or her past experience with Bane that he didn't know who she was, truly. She then began to think about how she would actually do what it was he was asking; she knew of several secret underground routes that led out to the city, and was also aware of the slow influx of food rations that Bane allowed to enter the city for the general population. He had his men stationed on the bridges to both check and confirm that these trucks that entered the city only contained food rations and supplies to support the general population of Gotham. It wouldn't be totally out of the realm of ordinary for her to divert one of those trucks to one of their private storage facilities to 'top off' their own supplies for Bane's army, with the Special Forces operatives inside that track and bypassing the regular checks from Bane's men. Myra blinked several slow blinks, her mind racing.
"How many are you trying to bring in…?" she asked her first real question.
This seemed to startle the man on the other end. He paused several moments before answering.
"We would like to get three individuals inside the city, if we can," he said.
Myra worked her lips again, her eyes narrowing as she let out a soft 'hmmm' sound.
"Alright. I have a condition though," she said.
This also seemed to startle the man on the other end.
"What is it?" he asked, his voice slightly skeptical as if he were anticipating some sort of cash negotiation to take place.
"I'm not going to help you if your intention is to come into the city and kill Bane; you are only here to help neutralize the bomb, right?" she asked, feeling uncomfortable and unsure if she should even trust the answer he was going to give her. Would he even be honest if their intentions was to kill him? How can I trust him?
Another pause.
"Of course; we aren't equipped to make any attempt on Bane's life. We would actually prefer a stealth operation of getting in and getting out as quickly as possible. Bane is also heavily guarded and surrounded; it would be difficult for us to even make an attempt," he said honestly. Myra could detect the honesty.
She also realized his words spoke some truth; it would be highly difficult for three individuals, though undoubtedly highly trained, to infiltrate and get close enough to Bane. This was all true, particularly after Bane essentially 'upped' the amount of men he had with him when out in the public sphere following the infiltration of the Gotham Police officer that almost led to Bane's death if not for Myra's interference with her graceful pen attack to the neck. Bane was a lot of things, but he was no fool; he learned from his mistakes, and his mistake had been that he couldn't and wouldn't trust anyone around him even if they were dressed as one of his own. His eyes were always searching and looking for someone making some bold attempt at his life, as were the men that followed him devotedly. Myra also doubted that the Gotham Police officer that she helped thwart was the only instance in which someone attempted to kill Bane; he probably dealt with that situation frequently enough to be appropriately reactionary if the event arose again.
Myra let out a relieved sigh.
"Fine. I'll help you then," she said, before sharing her plan.
Myra found herself needing distractions; she couldn't stop thinking about the Special Forces operation with Captain Jones. She needed to take her mind off of it, so she started delving into various hobbies. One hobby she decided to pursue was 'baking'. While Bane was highly reluctant to encourage this particular hobby of hers considering her luck with cooking (disastrous), he idled around and realized she wasn't going to burn the place down. While none of her baked goods were 'delicious' by any stretch of the imagination, he always offered to try whatever it was she baked in a mild show of polite enthusiasm and suppressed disgust.
One late afternoon she had consumed the kitchen with this task; she had a mismatched set of baking sheets covering every available surface, table and chairs. As Bane entered the kitchen and observed the display, he figured based on the number of cookies she was actually making that she was attempting to give a cookie to every man, woman, and child in Gotham.
Bane lifted his hands up to brandish a bag of carry-out food to Myra as an indicator that it was 'time to eat'. Myra was hunched in front of the oven, staring intently into it before turning her head to look at Bane and the bags he was holding.
"I'll be there in a second; these are almost done," she said, one hand on the handle that opened the oven as if physically preparing herself to fling the door open and extract the contents at a moment's notice.
Bane just watched her skeptically before moving to the kitchen dining table. He stared, his eyes roaming over the mess and the lack of real estate to both sit and eat on. He relocated a cookie sheet from one chair to another surface and pushed the contents of the table back just enough for him to put the bag of take-out on it, trying to ignore the hint of flour that seemed to coat every surface in the kitchen.
He sat down and opened up the take-out food containers and arrayed them so that they were easily accessible once he took his mask off. Myra, in the meantime, finally removed the last cookie sheet from the oven. As she stood up with it in her oven-mitted hand, she stood shocked, looking around for a proper place to put it and realized that space in the kitchen was severely limited. She managed to stack it on a few other cookie sheets before she headed over to Bane and snatched the food container that appeared to be hers, holding it to her chest while her eyes roamed the cluttered kitchen table and then finally on the kitchen chairs that were very clearly occupied with cookie sheets and flour. Her mouth fell open just slightly as her eyes fluttered back and forth, making 'uhhh' sounds, unsure what to do or where to sit, realizing there wasn't a spot since Bane appeared to be in the only viable chair in the kitchen that wasn't coated with flour and cookie sheets. She stood for several more moments before she turned around abruptly on her heals to head into the living room to eat at the small coffee table against the couch instead.
As she was headed to exit the kitchen, Bane spoke up.
"Myra," he said simply, his head turned towards her.
Myra stopped abruptly, turning to look at him with wide confused eyes with the food to her chest, her mouth still hung open just slightly. She saw his brows furrowed as if he were angry or affronted by her behavior, although she didn't know why; there was no spot to sit, and the living room seemed like a viable option. She waited for him to say or elaborate on why he looked slightly perturbed, the furrow in his brow never easing, before she saw one of his hands make a small motion. It was subtle, but she definitely understood its connotation. It was a simple, soft repetitive slap of his thigh with the tip of his fingers as he continued to watch her.
Myra's mouth closed as she took it in, her eyebrows raising in shock and then mild intrigue. She then became skeptical, her brows lowering; while she was pretty sure she knew what he was suggesting, she needed clarification just so she didn't look the fool and make assumptions.
"You want me to sit in your lap? Myra asked, sounding almost astounded.
Bane didn't reply with a verbal confirmation, nor did the furrowed-brown expression on his face ease up, but he did tap his thigh with his fingers twice more with the tip of his fingers for emphasis and a show of visual confirmation.
Myra let out a wide goofy smile as she sauntered over to him with her container of food. She stood next to him, looking down at his lap and then up at his face. He used his feet to push his chair back from the tabletop to give her a little bit more room between the surface of the table and his lap.
Myra placed her container of food on the table before resting one hand on his shoulder for leverage, feeling awkward about having to decide how to actually sit in his lap. There wasn't enough clearance for her to simply walk to the front of him and sit down like she was sitting in a chair and knew she would probably have to crawl over one of his legs and then insert her feet and legs between his to be comfortable.
She decided to just 'go for it', grabbing his shoulder tightly for support as she lifted one leg high into the air to arch over his bent knee, bringing it down between the "V" of his spread legs in front of the chair, leaning forward to put her body weight on that leg while she tried to encourage her other leg to follow suite. This, of course, wasn't quite as graceful as she imagined. Her knee jabbed into Bane's leg as she lifted it up, her hold on his shoulder wavering as she stumbled awkwardly forward onto his leg and thigh, her hand snatching at his shirt collar for support as she attempted to right herself, stretching and warping it. Bane's hands tried helping to guide her but even he knew sometimes that it was best to just let her sort and untangle herself out, which she did eventually. He also wondered how someone could appear to have such a complete lack of control over their own limbs.
She eased herself up into a full standing position once she was in the center of the "V" between his legs, turning her head to look at him and then the thigh that he tapped with his fingers with, before easing herself down slowly and 'gracefully' with her chin elevated in an attempted graceful airs as if she were trying to make up for the clumsy-newborn-foal display.
She rotated herself so that the side of her body and shoulder rested against his chest so that her back wouldn't ache while she ate her food; she was not a fan of open-backed chairs. One of Bane's arm circled around her lower back and grabbed hold of the edge of the table. Myra wasn't sure if the table moved closer to them, or if he pulled them closer to the table with his strength; all she knew was that she was now considerably closer to the table surface than she had been before. Bane apparently wasn't as affected by the sound of nails screeching on chalkboard as Myra was as that particular sound ripped through the kitchen as he performed the task of pulling heavy furniture over marble floor.
Bane kept his arm at her lower back, caging her in, with his hand rested on the table to begin the ritual of eating. His other arm and hand were considerably more animated than the one that circled behind Myra's back. She could feel Bane's mask graze the side of her cheek and tap her shoulder as he moved his head around while making sure his food was arranged properly.
Myra opened her own food container and started eating the finger food tentatively, feeling like she was eating popcorn and on the verge of observing a theatrical display. This certainly was a slightly comical and a thrilling new situation, and Bane's thigh certainly felt good against her rump. She also loved the feeling of her body being somewhat dwarfed by his, almost feeling like if he just bent forward just slightly more, and brought his other arm in and around her, then he could fully encapsulate her where she would undoubtedly get lost inside of him forever.
Myra felt Bane's body still as he brought a hand up to unlatch the hardware of his mask. He took a deep breath and set it on the table. He immediately began eating.
Her body got pushed forward just slightly in unison with his whenever he leaned forward to capture the food into his mouth. She didn't seem to mind feeling her body being pushed and pressed up by his as he ate.
There was one thing Myra did mind though. Myra had traditionally loathed the sound of people eating, chewing, and swallowing. She particularly loathed it when they did it right behind her, or even worse; right next to her ear. Due to her position on Bane's lap and their proximity, his bare lips were just behind her ear with maybe an inch or two of clearance as he dug into his food and brought it up to his mouth before he began furiously consuming it. Her ear caught every little intricacy of his chomping, swallowing, gulping, and wet noises of his lips smacking together as he hurriedly ate his food. And she absolutely loved it.
In fact, she couldn't get enough of it. She loved the experience of sitting so near to him – on him - and seeing his lips performing out of the peripheral of her vision as she turned her head just so, unable to turn her head and stare fully at him due to the angle in which she sat forward in his lap. Perhaps it was the fact that he was a precise eater with manners; he didn't make unnecessary sounds while eating and she never had an opportunity to hear this band of sounds play before simply because she was never close enough to his lips while he was eating. She almost forgot about her own food, finding herself suddenly pausing and relaxing as she simply sat as if she were listening to Mozart himself play his spectacular symphony orchestra.
It took Bane several rounds of mask inhalation to help prolong his 'lifeline' before he noticed her behavior, his attention usually hyper-focused on the task of eating food as fast as he could. It was during one of these moments of 'topping off' of medicine when he noticed her stilled body. As he took a large inhale of his mask, his eyes roamed to the side of her face, seeing her eyes glazed over as if she were in a slight trance.
"Is there something unappetizing with your food?" he wheezed through the mask that he held to his face.
Myra's face startled, turning her face in an attempt to look at him quickly before turning to look down at the container of food in front of her that looked only mildly picked over. She paused, feeling suddenly awkward.
"No, it's fine…I was just…listening…" she eased out, feeling like she was being inexplicably coerced into giving that answer despite no one twisting her arm.
"Listening? Listening to what?" Bane said, sounding affronted.
Myra's mouth fell open slightly before sucking it back up.
"You," she said simply.
"Me? Am I being loud? Unappealing? Is my eating putting you off your appetite?" Bane said, his voice slowly transitioning into menace mingled with the sound of being affronted, hurt, and offended.
Myra's eyes grew wide, shaking her head quickly to quickly squash the temper and hurt she could detect in his voice.
"No, not at all. I…I think I like it. A lot. A lot," she said, emphasizing the 'a lot' to convey a wide array of meanings and suggestiveness.
Bane's eyebrows dug slightly further down into the hardware of his mask as he looked at her skeptically, but he saw the faint blush of her cheeks as well as the fact that she was being truthful; she wasn't displaying any signs of disgust. Quite the opposite, in fact.
Bane took in several more slow, deep breaths from the mask, his eyes steady and focused on her face before he put his mask back down on the table. He quickly went to work.
He moved a hand to the side of her face to turn and steady it away from his as he brought his lips closer to her ear, his air being expelled out his nostrils and directly into the small fair hairs that covered her ear, which caused them to rustle and sway to the rhythm of his breathing. This sound was amplified for Myra; having air being directly blown into an ear causes it to sound like ocean waves crashing against each other as if a massive storm hovered overhead, stimulating the waves into action. Myra closed her eyes, taking in the sound, feeling stimulated like those ocean waves.
Bane did this for a handful of seconds before he started working his lips against her ear, not being shy with the use of his tongue to add moisture, wetness, and 'slopping sounds' to the cacophony of thunder happening inside Myra's ear. Myra brought a hand down to rest against his thigh, squeezing it in unison with her clenching eyes. Her lips moved on their own; they simply upturned into a lazy, spoiled smile.
Bane did this through several cycles of wrapping his lips around her ear or lapping his tongue against her lobes and outer ear before quickly taking in a huff through his mask to repeat the process again. He felt Myra's body take on the consistency of Jell-O the longer he gave her ear his direct attention.
Then Myra startled, nearly jumping in his lap, bringing her hand up to smack or slap away his face from the sensation she just felt; him sticking the tip of his tongue directly into her ear canal. It was not pleasant and was similar to the sensation of someone sticking their finger into your belly buttonhole. She furrowed her brows, keeping her hand covered over her ear as she leaned her body far back so that she could turn her head to properly glare at him for ruining the moment. The look Bane gave her indicated he knew exactly what he did, deep crinkles lining the corners of his eyes as he re-instated his mask over his face, latching the hardware.
"Finish your food before it gets too cold. I wouldn't test whether there is an expectation for me to go and fetch you more food," Bane said with a thin veil of condescension and tease.
Myra kept her eyes narrowed, diverting down to her food and then back up to him. She rubbed her ear, removing the excess moisture and saliva that coated it from Bane's mouth. She had to push down the swell of curiosity in discovering whether he would, in fact, get her more food if the food got to a temperature that wasn't to her liking. Bane eyed her, knowing exactly what she was thinking and prowling along the edge of testing her limits and the limits of the things he most certainly would do for her. Bane bounced the leg she was sitting on once to get her attention, her whole body shifting on his leg which caused her mild surprise.
"If you don't finish that food quickly…then you may miss the opportunity to discover what my lips feel like on other regions of your body…" Bane teased, his voice thick with suggestiveness and grit, his hand squeezing and rubbing at her lower back.
Bane was hoping his words would have some sort of reaction from her, possibly get her to reluctantly start eating or maybe even simply begin eating it at a normal pace. He wasn't expecting her reaction, however; Myra brought the container of food up high above her head and just started pouring it against her face, shoveling and chomping it like a trash compactor as she made a frenzied attempt at making the food disappear as quickly as humanly possible.
Bane brought a hand up to shield his face from the frenzy of food being pilfered into her mouth. After she was done, he gave her an annoyed look, his eyes roaming the mess coating her face.
"We need to work on your table manners," he eased out with an annoyed sigh, the charm and sexiness very clearly absent from his voice as he pushed their chair away from the table abruptly before giving Myra an equally firm push off of his lap, very clearly dismissing her.
Myra woke up much earlier than usual one morning, turning her head and reaching out towards the side of the bed that Bane usually inhabited and noticed he was out of bed already. She gave a loud yawn, deciding to go use the restroom quick before making an attempt at going back to bed.
As she was entering the bathroom, she stopped abruptly, startled. She was presented with Bane very clearly using cleaning products to disinfect and clean the bathroom sink and other surfaces. She looked around and noticed the toilet had the fresh blue liquid in it indicating it was also freshly cleaned. She turned her attention back to him, his attention unwavering from his cleaning task despite her added presence.
"Are you…are you cleaning?" Myra asked, genuinely surprised.
Bane stopped scrubbing the sink to raise his head up to give her a glare.
"Yes. Who else do you think has been doing the chore? You? This place would be abominable if you were tasked with cleanliness and sanitation," Bane said, sounding irritated.
Myra then started reflecting on the fact that since the months they've been living here, she never stopped to think about why the place always seemed clean. It never dawned on her that someone (Bane) was actually making a habit of cleaning it. If they had simply 'lived' in the penthouse master suite without either of them lifting a finger to clean, this place would be absolutely disgusting by now because she most certainly wouldn't have found the motivation to start cleaning.
She felt somewhat neglectful and embarrassed for not having noticed his effort to keep their living space clean. She also embarrassingly realized that the baking messes she had been making were also mysteriously cleaned up after she left the kitchen like a tornado disaster, seemingly too self-involved with her own devices to realize that someone took the time to clean it up after her. She began to strongly associate to the story with the woman who had elves visit her house and do the work for her while she slept and disappeared before she woke up and never suspecting a thing. She had trouble imagining Bane as an elf, however.
Myra continued to think about this as she awkwardly made her way to the toilet, lowering her pajamas and underwear down to sit and urinate into the fresh blue cleaner bowl liquid while staring at Bane's back as he resumed his scrubbing of the sink. She started grinning.
"You know, you look kind of like Mr. Clean," Myra mused.
Bane stopped scrubbing to give her his attention.
"Who?" he asked, affronted by the name.
Myra's eyes grew large with excitement, having to control and stop herself from simply flying off the toilet to go grab her computer to pull up an image of Mr. Clean to show him. She quickly wiped herself, flushed the toilet, and ran out of the room. She came back practically bouncing on her feet to present him of the image of Mr. Clean.
Bane was remarkably unimpressed by the comparison.
He also made Myra stay up with him and take over some of the things he had planned cleaning due to her need to establish an unflattering comparison between him and Mr. Clean. Despite her obvious desire to simply go back to sleep, Myra thought the punishment was worth it.
Bane decided that part of Myra's offensive training should address the use of firearms. When he broached the subject, he was absolutely astounded that she had never actually held a gun let alone used one. He decided to remedy that, despite the extreme reluctance and trepidation expressed by Myra.
They used the bottom level of the penthouse building in the underground garage where John Daggett had kept his armada of luxury vehicles. They used one of the cement walls as target practice, where Bane outlined arbitrary shapes with chalk to help guide her. Myra particularly amused by one specific shape on the wall as she went up to it and pointed at it.
"Hey! This one looks kind of like Batman!" Myra said, amused, looking over the crude shape of a caped figure with points over the head. She grinned, letting her fingers run along the chalked outline before stepping away from it.
"You know, I always thought he was kind of cute…" Myra said jokingly, giving one last glance to the outline before bodily turning towards Bane.
She stilled and silenced herself when she saw the seething anger he was radiating. He was not amused by her words for a wide array of reasons that Myra couldn't possibly have fathomed since she didn't know the extent of Bane and Batman's interactions up to that point. Myra honestly thought Batman was still 'retired' after years of inactivity and not being seen in the public sphere. Bane started breathing angrily through his mask.
"Geesh. Fine. He's not cute…" Myra said dismissively stepping further away from the chalk drawing to stand next to him, directing her eyes to the pistol he was holding.
Myra waited patiently while Bane let his breath calm down before he held up the pistol towards her to begin showing her the components of the gun. Jesus. I wonder what he'd do if I accidentally 'checked someone out' in public. Jealous much?
Myra brought a hand up to her lips to cover a smile that started forming at her internal dialogue. Bane, of course, was not jealous of Batman. He was simply upset at the show of admiration Myra seemed to show towards a man that Bane absolutely loathed and despised. It was highly doubtful that he would give two shits if Myra 'checked someone out' in public. He would probably find the display amusing due to Myra's naturally shy and bashful nature. She usually kept her eyes down to look at the ground when she walked so that she didn't have to make eye contact; for her to look up and even suggestively let her eyes roam over another male body was something that would be entirely shocking and titillating for Bane to see. Bane liked being titillated. Bane also possessed an enormous amount of self-confidence; the concept of jealousy was an alien and foreign feeling for him. When he needed or wanted something, he simply took it.
"Number one rule. NEVER point the muzzle towards anyone unless you plan on killing them," Bane said, using the tip of his finger to indicate the tip of the gun as the muzzle.
Myra's face fell, her brows furrowing as she gave him a 'look'.
"Well, I don't plan on killing anyone, EVER, so does that just mean I never point the muzzle at anyone? If that's the case, then what's the point of learning about gun safety if I probably should just never hold a gun?" Myra breathed out with slight annoyance.
Bane gave her a critical look, knowing she was on the verge of being sassy and simply argumentative as she let her morals drive her frustration.
"Even if you never anticipate killing anyone, you should still learn about basic gun safety. Now, the quicker we get through this the quicker you can go do whatever asinine activity you have planned after this," Bane said, annoyed.
Myra's eyes grew large at his rare bout of impatience directed towards her; usually it took a considerably more amount of sass out of her mouth to get him this riled up so soon. He was probably still upset about her quip about Batman. She let a snicker form on her lips.
"Oh? Is that right? I can go do whatever 'asinine activity' I had planned after this? Well, if you were curious to know…" Myra eased out in her best impression of a seductive voice as she reached out with her hand and grabbed him at his crotch.
Bane accidentally discharged the pistol.
Both Myra and Bane jumped, Myra more so than Bane, with Myra screaming. Myra brought her hands to ears to deafen the sound of the gunshot, her eyes closing at the acute and unexpected noise. Bane was furious.
"DON'T DO THAT WHEN I'M HOLDING A LOADED WEAPON," he said, raging.
Myra slowly eased her eyes open to glare at him, removing her hands from her ears, bodily leaning away from his booming shout directed at her. After her nerves settled, she huffed out a sigh.
"I WON'T. GOSH. It apparently leads to an asinine activity anyway, so…." Myra eased out, stopping herself when she saw the look from Bane. It was obvious he was nearing his patience threshold. She decided to ease back on her sass. She let out a sigh, wiping her face of any sass into a more serious and focused one. Bane proceeded after seeing her demeanor shift, holding the weapon back up for her to see.
"This leads into the firearm safety button…" Bane said, using his large meaty finger to tap a small section on the weapon where a little red dot occupied it.
"If you see this little red dot, it means your firearm safety is off. It's ready to engage. Red means dead. Got it?" Bane asked, eyeing her and waiting for a confirmation.
"Red means dead. Got it," she said, fighting back the urge to revert back into an argumentative tone to remind him that she had no intention of using the weapon to kill or hurt anyone and that his little rhyme might not be a suitable reminder.
Bane nodded when he saw he had her full attention.
"Now, don't always rely on that safety trigger. Don't assume you can still point the muzzle at someone just because your safety is on. Always assume it's off," he said, before turning the pistol over and removing the magazine clip.
"You should also know about the mechanical and handling characteristics of the firearm fully before you use it, but I'll settle with you simply being able to re-insert this magazine back into the weapon…" he said, handing the unloaded pistol with the magazine to her.
Myra gave him a look as if he were asking her to count to '3'. Easy. She made an attempt at reloading the weapon with the magazine, however, and found it surprisingly difficult. She eventually figured it out after Bane brought his hands out and helped guide her in the activity. He then showed her the button to remove the magazine and motioned for her to give it a try without his guidance. She had slightly less difficulty the second time around but was still by no means an expert. Bane made her try it a dozen or so more times until she was able to perform it in a somewhat fluid motion.
"Good. Let's try some target practice, shall we?" Bane said, standing behind her to aim her shoulders towards the arbitrary chalk drawings. She decided to focus on an amorphous blob shape.
Bane brought his hands up and guided her into a proper stance, raising her arms up and pointed at the sight on the barrel of the gun for her to use for precision.
"Use that to aim. Squeeze the trigger," he ordered, taking a step back behind her.
Myra eyed him, then the gun, then the target she was aiming at. She looked down the sight, closing one eye, mentally preparing herself for a loud 'bang' as she slowly squeezed her finger on the trigger. The anticipation of the loud noise and shot was nerve-racking; however, as she fully squeezed the trigger, she opened both of her eyes and moved her head back to look at the gun, dumbfounded, when it didn't fire.
"…it's broken," she said, perplexed.
Bane gave her an annoyed look.
"Your safety is on," he reminded her in a patronizing tone.
Myra gave him a critical look, furrowing her brows, switching the safety off before resuming her stance. She slowly eased the trigger and eventually both heard and felt the gun unload a bullet straight towards the target. It didn't land anywhere near the center, but at least it made it on the same wall that the chalk drawing inhabited. Myra relaxed her body somewhat but could feel her body shaking from the adrenaline and the nerves that overtook her when she shot the weapon. Bane nodded at her.
"Good. Keep at it until you unload the magazine," he said, standing behind her to watch.
Myra found it considerably less unnerving to use it following the first round, finding herself a bit more comfortable using it. When she ran out of bullets, Bane handed her a new magazine and watched her as she removed her spent magazine and replaced it with the new one. She then proceeded with her target practice.
Myra didn't hear the footsteps approaching from behind as she was spending the magazine into the wall. Between rounds she did pick up on Barsad's voice as he was mumbling something to Bane. His presence was both surprising and welcome, so she immediately turned her body towards him to give him a quick greeting.
"Hey Barsa-" Myra started to say, but was interrupted by a massive hand pushing down her arms and yanking the pistol out of her hand.
She looked up to see a pair of very wide eyes from both Barsad and Bane looking at her. Bane's were considerably more angry than shocked as he adjusted the pistol in his hand, holstering it in his belt. She was at first confused by their uncharacteristic display of shock, but soon realized she had bodily turned herself towards them with the muzzle of the weapon sweeping past Bane and right towards Barsad. Redness overtook her face at her mistake.
"Go upstairs. We're done for today before you decide to kill someone," Bane fumed at her in a dismissive tone.
Myra furrowed her brows at him, crossing her arms over her chest as the redness continued to creep over her face.
"I thought that was the point," Myra said sassily, annoyed by his condescension and blatant dismissiveness and anger.
Barsad watched as Bane and Myra locked in a staring match for several moments until Bane brought a hand up to flick towards her in a further show of dismissiveness as if to say, "Move along now. You're dismissed".
She huffed and seethed at him for several moments, not immediately moving, but finally dropped her arms to her sides and began sauntering away.
"…. fine. I have asinine activities to attend to anyway," she fumed, strolling towards the elevators. Halfway there, she turned around, pointing a finger at Bane and made another comment that interrupted the conversation that Bane and Barsad seemed to be immersed in.
"I may even ask for volunteers to join in with my asinine activities. Who knows," she continued, fueled by a mild sense of embarrassment and not caring for the dismissive display exhibited by Bane.
She watched as Bane's eyebrows furrowed deeply over his eyes as he analyzed her and the hidden subtleties of her words. Bane doubted very much Myra would follow-through with her ridiculous threat. She usually kept her eyes averted to the ground to avoid looking at people. He also knew she generally detested and avoided being touched; it was remarkable to witness her body turn into a fluidic-like ninja shape as she actively avoided being accidentally nudged or touched by someone. He also knew that if he hadn't been the one to initiate a first physical encounter with her, then she most certainly wouldn't have. It had taken her a considerable amount of time to even be fully comfortable with touching Bane without any form of hesitation or thought and not simply be reciprocating but actually be the instigator with her physical affections.
Bane, on the other hand, was significantly more comfortable with the use of touch as a communication tool than Myra was. In fact, Bane loved touching people. Bane would be severely hampered if he was suddenly unable to do so. Bane wasn't shy. If he wanted to make a point, he had no problem poking someone in the chest for emphasis, intimidating someone by resting a hand on their shoulder or stroking their cheek threateningly, shoving someone, or even the more elegant art form of punching and choking. When he walked somewhere and someone didn't move out of his way, he just plowed through like a steam-powered train. This also extended to his affectionate displays, too. If the relationship called for it, he had no issue with holding or touching someone to comfort them, even when in public; he would do these sorts of things with Myra more frequently too if she weren't so shy and awkward about PDA. The truth was that Bane simply didn't have many relationships in his life that called for affection, so this unfortunately led to the use of the predominantly aggressive variety of touch as a communication tool.
Despite Myra's extreme preference towards keeping her hands to herself and the unlikely event that she would actually follow-through with her threat to approach a random stranger to engage in some 'asinine activity', her words definitely made his hackles rise.
Barsad watched with curiosity as Bane immediately stormed after her, shocked that such a simple statement could induce such a reaction out of Bane. He watched as Myra seemed to visibly startle, probably equally shocked that her comment had gotten that much of a rise out of Bane, before she turned tail and ran towards the elevators. Barsad continued to watch as Bane caught up with her, snatched her off the ground where she began writhing, screaming and laughing, and approached one of the luxury vehicles. He readjusted Myra over his shoulder like a sack of meat, opening one of the driver doors to the vehicle and bent down to activate the switch to pop the trunk open. He then moved around the vehicle and dropped Myra into the trunk and closed it before she could scramble out of it. Bane marched back towards Barsad to the sounds of Myra thumping against the interior of the trunk and shouting for someone to let her out mixed with her confessions that she wasn't actually going to ask anyone to participate in an asinine activity with her. When Bane finally made it back to Barsad, he let out a huff out of his mask as if he had just completed a great chore and was ready to resume business.
After they were done discussing business, Bane and Barsad made their way back towards the elevators. Barsad's eyes kept darting towards the trunk that he knew Myra was in, despite her silence after it was apparent she had screamed her voice dry. Bane picked up on the questioning flicker of his eyes.
"It will do her good to stay in there a bit longer to cool off," Bane eased out, rubbing his chest idly with his fingers. Barsad stared at Bane, wondering if it was Bane himself who actually needed 'cooling off'. Barsad kept his thoughts to himself.
Bane did eventually come back down and fetch her roughly an hour later. He opened the trunk and saw that she had resorted to simply taking a nap. He had to rub her shoulder to rouse her from sleep. She opened her eyes groggily, turned to look at him with a lazy expression before easing herself up in a sitting position. She rubbed her eyes with the back of her hand before climbing out of the trunk. Bane gave her a quick affectionate part on the top of the head as she was climbing out and helped stabilize her as she fumbled and stumbled out of the trunk like the graceful creature that he knew her to be.
They didn't say anything to each other as they made their way to the elevator, waited for it to open, and entered it before making their way up. They didn't need to; they let their touch do their communicating for them as Myra held on to one of his large fingers loosely in her hand as they made their way up.
While they were riding the elevator, Bane's hand found the back of Myra's head where he began playing, smoothing, and fidgeting with her disheveled hair caused from the manhandling and impromptu nap in the trunk of the car. A lazy smile formed on Myra's lips as she stood, thoroughly enjoying the casual grooming gesture.
She didn't know what compelled her, but she reached for his free hand lazily, grabbed it, and brought it up to her mouth where she kissed each of his fingertips gingerly before releasing his hand and tucked herself under his arm in a sideways embrace, wrapping her arms around his middle. Bane wrapped his arm loosely around her shoulder, giving her an affectionate squeeze as he looked down at the top of her head nestled under his arm before they both exited the elevator to make it back to their living quarters.
Several days later, Bane strolled into the master suite later in the evening and found Myra lounging casually on the couch. He gave her a curt nod as he passed, but stopped, and immediately backpeddled. His eyes stared and fixated at the contents displayed on her shirt. Myra saw him enter, and immediately noticed his fixation. She gave a mischievous smile, craning her head down to press her chin against her chest so she could look at the front of her shirt. She rubbed her hand over her chest as well as the very distinct image of the "Bat" signal affectionately.
"Do you like it? I'm wearing my boyfriend's company logo. What do you think?" Myra said. Her voice absolutely dripped with tease.
Bane's eyes slowly narrowed, his fist clenching to keep his fingers from twitching. Myra picked up on his subtle physical queues immediately, jumping up from the couch immediately and ran towards the bedroom laughing her brains out in the process as she scurried away. Bane followed after her in a huff. He rounded into the bedroom to see Myra absolutely giddy, even jumping on the bed in a rare taunting display. It was obvious she was absolutely living for this display of jealousy exhibited by Bane. She of course still didn't know about the complicated array of other reasons why Bane might not care to see her wearing anything to do with "Batman" on her body. In the meantime, she simply interpreted any of his anger as seething jealousy and she loved it. It made her giddy and fueled her as she continued to lightly jump on the bed in anticipation for Bane's next move.
Bane charged to the edge of the bed, leaning forward to snatch at her leg, but Myra simply bounced to the far end of the bed while giving him taunting laughs. Bane rounded to the other side, only for Myra to repeat the process. He looked up at her with furrowed brows before he used his large hands to grab hold of the edge of the mattress and gave a strong tug. This, of course, caused Myra to lose her balance and topple over at the sensation of a rug being suddenly pulled right from under her feet. Bane took this opportunity to circle around the mattress and snatch at Myra's wrist so she wouldn't get away. Before she could even react, Bane grabbed a handful of Myra's shirt and simply ripped it off of her in one clean swipe.
"OW. HEY. YOU DON'T HAVE TO RUIN IT. WHAT WILL MY BOYFRIEND THINK?" Myra said in a combination of shouts, screams, and giggles.
Myra watched as Bane stood and continued to rip the shirt up as if he were shredding a piece of paper; he wanted to make sure there was no possible way for her to salvage the piece of clothing.
"I'm pretty sure your 'boyfriend' would appreciate your clarity as it pertains to fashion and never have to worry about you wearing such an abomination out in public - or private - ever again," Bane snarked, tossing the shredded fabric into the trash and stalking away.
Myra's eyes narrowed at him, unsure if Bane was playing along with her fantasy of Batman being her boyfriend or if Bane was very clearly claiming the role of 'boyfriend' for himself. She let out a big goofy grin, regardless.
Bane entered the master suite to the sound of a faint 'buzzing' sound. He furrowed his brows, straining his ears trying to detect the location of the buzzing noise. He followed the sound and made his way to the large luxury kitchen. As he rounded the corner and entered the room, he was greeted by a very startled looking Myra and an equally startled looking Barsad.
Myra, in one of her hands, had a hair buzzer which she was very clearly using to clean up Barsad's hairline around the back of his neck and ears. Barsad was sitting down in a kitchen chair with a make-shift apron over his body to keep the hair off of his clothing. Bane stood still, staring at them, waiting for some sort of explanation despite it being obvious what they were doing. The look he gave Myra very clearly indicated he still didn't like anyone else – even Barsad – inside their personal living space. Barsad looked down bashfully, ignoring the uncomfortable look Bane was giving Myra.
Myra stared him down, matching his furrowed brows.
"I'm just cutting his hair. I offered to do it for him," Myra explained.
Bane's eyebrows shot up his head, wondering how the prospect of Myra offering to cut his hair even came up. He decided to ignore it and just walked past them into the kitchen to rummage around for some food.
Myra began smirking.
"I can cut your hair too after I'm done with him if you want," Myra goaded, snickering loudly. She began elbowing Barsad playfully at the jest concerned with Bane's baldness. Barsad just sat there awkwardly, not daring to laugh but Myra did see his lips softly curl up at the corners subtly.
Bane seemed to ignore her joke as he rummaged for food, but when he resurfaced with a handful of food items and placed them on the corner, he looked at her.
"That sounds lovely. Perhaps I can reciprocate the favor for you also? I'll even be a gentleman and do it when you're in your most comfortable state; when you're sleeping," Bane said seriously.
Myra was not amused. She shot him a glare before returning her focus back on Barsad. She saw that Barsad's subtle upturn of the lips had turned into a full-blown grin at Bane's words. That made her even more mad. She yanked Barsad's head aggressively between her hands and re-positioned it.
"Stop moving or I'll accidentally cut your ear off," she snapped at him.
Barsad's eyes were wandering around awkwardly at the tense interaction, though he remained silent through the ordeal.
"Are you planning on visiting your wife soon?" Myra asked conversationally, as if picking up a conversation they were in the middle of before Bane barged in.
"Yes. I'll be visiting her tomorrow," Barsad half mumbled, half whispered.
Myra gasped in excitement, taking a step back at him to give him an excited look.
"AHHH. It's all coming together now. That's why you wanted a haircut; so you don't look like a shaggy werewolf for your wife. Got it. The stakes are a bit higher now; I better not mess up anymore," Myra eased out.
Barsad started turning his head towards her, concern on his face.
"….any more?" he asked with concern, bringing a hand up to the back of his head and sweeping his hand over his hair to detect and large missing patches of hair.
"Shh shhh. I'm joking. Stay still," Myra said quickly. She wasn't joking; she accidentally cut a portion of his hair a bit short behind his ear. She doubted he would notice since it would be difficult for him to see it in a mirror. His wife may notice, though.
"When was the last time you've seen her? Are you excited?" Myra continued.
Barsad sat in his chair, concentration coating his features.
"It's been…6 months," Barsad determined.
Myra chopped off a bit more of his hair.
"Wow! That's so long ago! What's the special occasion for this visit? Aside from the fact you haven't seen her in 6 months….?" Myra eased out.
Barsad sat silent. Uncomfortably silent. He obviously wasn't going to tell her he had the intent of visiting his wife 'one last time' before the neutron bomb went off. He knew Myra didn't know.
Myra continued to wait for an answer.
"Anniversary…? Birthday?" Myra pressed for an answer.
Bane interrupted them, having obviously overhead the conversation and not caring for the prospect of Barsad being put in the uncomfortable situation of compromising their situation as it pertained to the neutron bomb explosion.
"I'm preparing our meal for dinner; you want Indian food, right?" Bane asked.
Myra's face distorted at the prospect of super spicy Indian food, becoming distracted and her attention immediately diverted from her questioning.
"NOoooooo Indian food. Why would you even ask me that?" Myra whined, knowing Bane should already know that she didn't like Indian food.
Bane made a show of rummaging around their kitchen to see what other ingredients they had.
"Alright. Get on with it then. You had better get in here then and help figure out what it is you'd like otherwise I suppose it's going to be Indian food," Bane said as if he could care less whether they ate Indian food or not.
Myra's stomach growled; she didn't need to be told to hurry. She only had a small section at the crown of Barsad's head before she was done.
"All done!" she said, whisking away his apron, causing hair shavings to litter the floor, clearly forgetting about her inquiries directed towards Barsad and her only thought now was on food. Bane eyed the hair littering the floor with an annoyed grunt, knowing perfectly well who was going to end up cleaning them off of the floor.
Barsad moved his hand up to his head to feel the fresh cut, nodding in appreciation.
"Thank you," he said quietly.
Bane practically lifted and shoved Barsad up and out the door without a word, even before Barsad had properly roamed his hand fully over his head. Myra was astounded and appalled.
"What? That's your 'goodbye'? You aren't going to see him for a while – don't you want to ask him to eat with us?" Myra asked, aghast.
"Missed opportunity, I fear," Bane said, already halfway back to the kitchen. Bane, of course, wanted to remove Barsad so he wasn't forced with the unfortunate task of answering Myra's unintentionally uncomfortable questions. He also simply didn't like anyone else – yes, even Barsad – in their shared living quarters.
"…so rude," Myra mumbled before turning her attention back to food preparation in the kitchen.
After they had chosen, prepared, and cooked the meal, they both moved to the kitchen counter to begin eating. Myra began eating her food, but then suddenly got distracted by Bane's mask as he set it down on the table in front of her. She was curious; she hadn't even held it before. Without asking permission, she reached for it and grabbed it. Bane's eyes snapped up just as she was bringing it up to peer into it before bringing it flush to her nose and mouth.
"Look, I'm yo-" she started to say as she brought the mask to her face, but immediately passed out, falling out of her chair and onto the floor like a limp sack of potatoes.
Bane had started to bring his hand up and snatch it from her, but he was too late; she had already taken in a breath of heavy dose of his medicine. He watched as she fell unconscious to the floor, dropping the mask with limp fingers. Bane continued chewing his food in an almost bored display, swallowed, and then leaned down to check her pulse to ensure she was fine. He picked his mask up from the floor next to her and put it back on the table, giving her unconscious body an annoyed and unimpressed glare knowing she was going to be passed out for hours. He continued eating his food.
When Myra finally did wake up groggily in the comfort of their bed, it took her a few hours to notice the crude markered drawing on her face that looked vaguely like a child's rendition of Bane's mask. She was not pleased by the haze, quickly checking to see if he buzzed any of her hair off too. She let out a huge sigh of relief when she realized Bane spared his hazing ritual on her hair.
Time to Neutron Bomb Explosion: 1 Month
Myra had coordinated for the Special Forces captain and his men to load onto and hide in one of the ration supplies trucks that routinely made its way into the city. While she knew that their hiding attempts would be discovered during the roadblock check, her job now was to ensure there was no roadblock check. She waited with a heavy winter coat with Bane's men at the bridge barricade as the truck made its slow progression to the bridge. Myra could see her breath huffing out in front of her, feeling cold and frigid, and a little bit scared, as she watched the truck make a stop for Bane's men to check the truck at the roadblock. Before they fully made their way to the back of the truck to check the supplies, Myra ambled over to it quickly and simply pointed at it, hoping what little authority she had over inventory supply 'checker', and probably the more impactful position as simply being "Bane's", would cause them to stop and listen to her and follow her instruction.
"Bane wants this one to be diverted to our storage facility on 1st Avenue," Myra said simply in a huff, waving at them before they could go and check the back of it.
They of course eyed her; her behavior was somewhat suspicious. She also usually wasn't the one who did grunt work like this. However, it was also not impossible that Bane told her to run her buns over there and make sure no one opened the back of that truck because there could be other things aside from 'rations' in it. Things that Bane didn't want the National Guard, Army, and misplaced Gotham Police on the other side of the bridge seeing as they watched and stared as Bane's men did their vehicle checks. It was like two countries engaged in a stand-off and staring contest at their nation's borderline; the trucks entered in a way where when Bane's men did their inventory checks, it exposed the back of the truck back across the bridge from whence it came which was obviously where the National Guard, Gotham Police, and Army were stationed. They had a front-row seat to these standard vehicle checks. They most certainly would react if they saw something 'interesting' in the back of those trucks, like more bombs, explosives, or weapons. They took Myra's hint, figuring this was the likely scenario for her odd behavior.
Bane's men backed away from the truck and waved it through, turning their attention back towards the other side of the bridge as they continued their 'stand-off'.
Myra rendezvoused with the truck, opening the back to reveal three casually dressed men sitting on rows of rations. She stared. They stared back. She backed away from the back of the truck in a show that it was okay for them to get out. They complied.
"I need to leave. I got you in. Remember our deal," Myra said simply in a rush of cold breath, not wanting to be seen here with them. She eyed the individual she perceived as the leader since he walked up to her first and seemed to have a distinct presence.
He nodded, adjusting the gloves on his hands to better warm himself up in the frigid cold.
"Certainly. Thank you for your bravery. Your actions will help save innocent lives. Don't forget that," he said with sincerity, patting her lightly on the shoulder before he flagged his two men to follow him around the truck and out of her sight. Myra fidgeted for several moments before she, too, left to go back to the penthouse building.
Bane received an unexpected call from Talia.
"I have a surprise for you," she said as if she were sharing a gift with him in front of a Christmas tree.
"Yes?" Bane said simply.
"A little bird told me that there were three Special Forces operatives smuggled into the city in an attempt to neutralize the bomb," Talia continued to ease out in a sing-song almost playful voice.
"Interesting. Did your 'little bird' indicate their current whereabouts?" Bane inquired politely, seemingly unperturbed by the news despite the connotations.
"Yes…they're making their way to the Wayne Enterprise building…" she says.
"Perfect. I'll make sure they are provided with an appropriate reception," Bane said in an almost jovial tone; it had been a while since he had an opportunity to uniformly squash a small band of individuals attempting to overthrow him or neutralize the bomb.
"That's not all…" Talia said; it was obvious that her excitement was building up, and the thing that she was about to tell him was the thing she truly wanted to spill out and had a hard time doing otherwise.
"Yes?" Bane asked.
"A little bird also indicated that a certain someone helped these Special Forces operatives get into the city," Talia said teasingly.
Bane simply waited with a slight nod as he held the phone to his ear.
"Yes? Who?" he asked questioningly.
"Your pet," Talia let out, dripping with satisfaction.
Bane was silent.
"Take care of her," Talia said, in a complete voice shift; there was no tease or playfulness in the order she gave him.
Bane heard the beep indicating the phone conversation ended as Talia very clearly hung up.
Bane kept the phone against his ear for several moments, despite knowing that the phone conversation had ended, as he stared at the wall across from him as his chest slowly began building in pressure like a fire keg about to explode.
The Special Forces captain and his men eventually rendezvoused with Commissioner Gordon, Foley, Blake, and a contingent of men. As Special Forces Captain Jones and his men approached the gathering, Foley stepped forward to stop them from getting too close to the gathering.
"You got ID?" Foley asked them.
"Of course not," Captain Jones said.
"Well, how can we trust you?" Foley asked, concern on his face.
"We don't have any choice," Gordon spoke up, pushing through several of the men in the room to stand to greet Special Forces Captain Jones and his men.
"Commissioner Gordon. Captain Jones, Special Forces," Jones says, reaching forward to shake Gordon's hand, relief overtaking his face at a sensible body present in the room.
"Captain. Glad to have you here," Gordon says.
"It's our job, sir. Now, uh, how many of you are there?" Jones says.
"Well, there's dozens. I'd rather not say exactly…but the men trapped underground number almost 3,000," Gordon says.
"What kind of condition are they in?" Jones asks.
"They've been getting food and water," Gordon confirms.
"Can we break them out?" Jones asks curiously.
"Yes, sir," Blake says, finally speaking up.
"Take out the mercenaries guarding the outflow south of Ackerman Park. Blow the rubble, we can make a hole big enough for 10 at a time. I'm in contact with my partner who's down there. They're just waiting for the day," Blake says.
"Men who haven't seen daylight in three months?" Jones says, skeptical.
"Police officers who haven't seen daylight in three months," Blake says, correcting him.
"What about the bomb? The satellite can't pick up any radiation hot spots," Jones says, getting to the point; the true threat.
"They keep it on a truck. It must have a lead-lined roof, they move it constantly," Gordon says.
"Good. So, you know the truck?" Jones says.
"Well, it's one of three. We've been tracking it. The routes don't vary much," Gordon says.
"Okay. What about the triggerman?" Jones asks.
"No leads. It's – it's a bluff. Bane wouldn't give control of that bomb to someone else," Gordon says.
"We can't take that chance. Until we have the triggerman, we just track the device," Jones says.
"And meanwhile…Gotham lives under a warlord like some failed state?" Blake asks, obviously looking to kill Bane and slightly offended at the seemingly passive handling of the matter.
"Dial it back, officer. This situation is unprecedented. We can't do anything to risk millions of lives," Jones says. Jones knows full well if there is any perceived attempt on Bane's life, he has no doubt Myra would blow their cover. Their cover being 'blown' could very well trigger Bane into simply detonating the bomb. It would also mean that Captain Jones would be breaking the agreement he set forth with Myra. He can't have Blake acting with a hot head.
"You gonna tell him? Are you gonna tell him what's really going on?" Blake asks, looking at Gordon.
"Captain, the situation is more complicated than you think. There's someone you need to meet," Gordon says.
Captain Jones nods, looking around at the men in the room.
"Right. First, let's figure out the situation with the decoy trucks," Jones suggests.
Gordon nods, motioning for Blake to lead the Special Forces Captain Jones and his men out the door to begin updating them on where the decoy trucks make their routes. They spend several days with this routine before they eventually circle back to introducing Captain Jones to someone that could explain the situation a bit better. They make their way to a semi-abandoned Wayne Enterprise building.
"Came upstairs looking for a vantage point. I found the people who run the corporation living up here," Blake says.
"What corporation?" Jones asks.
"Wayne enterprises," Blake says.
They take an elevator from the lobby level up to a higher level. There are fires going on in an open courtyard; the electrically had obviously been shut off. A huddled group of executives make up most of those individuals. They approach Lucius Fox and Talia, also known as 'Miranda Tate'.
"Mr. Fox, would you like to brief the captain?" Blake asks.
"Miss Tate's fully aware of the situation," Fox says, deflecting the explanation to 'Miranda'.
"And as C.E.O. of Wayne Enterprises, I have to take responsibility for it," Talia says.
"Why?" Jones asks slightly incredulous.
"We built it," she says.
"You built the bomb?" Jones asks, confused and astounded.
"It was built as a fusion reactor. First of its kind. Bane turned the core into a bomb and removed it from the reactor," Fox says.
"Here's the important part," Blake says, making sure the Special Forces members are paying attention to Fox's next words.
"As the device's fuel cells deteriorate, it becomes increasingly unstable to the point of detonation," Fox says.
"This bomb is a time bomb," Blake clarifies, looking at Captain Jones.
"And it will go off in 23 days, regardless of Bane's revolution or what we or the outside world choose to do," Fox says.
"So your appeasement plan might not be so practical as you thought," Blake says.
"Could you disarm it?" Jones says.
"I could reconnect it to the reactor. Stabilize it," Fox confirms.
"Let's move away from this location, then call it in," Jones says.
"Right. Let's go," Blake says, making a move to join them.
"No, no. We'll take it from here. You stay and look after these folks," Jones says, as he turns to exit.
As Jones and his two other Special Force officers turn and walk back down the long stretch of hallway, gunshots are heard. One of the Special Forces officers drops dead. More gunshots are heard down in the congregated area where all of the executives of Wayne Enterprise were huddled around campfires and office equipment, spraying bullets into the air, causing chaos.
"Someone sold us out," Blake says in a rush, turning towards Talia and Fox.
"Go, go, go, go," Blake says, pushing at Talia to run back towards cover.
More mercenaries slowly take over the area like an infestation. The Special Forces operatives move to take cover behind large granite columns, brandishing their weapons, ready to defend themselves. Jones sees his other operative hit in the chest and fall to the ground, dying, leaving him the last man standing. Jones knows he'll die if he stays behind the column. He takes a breath before rounding the corner of the column, charging, where he is immediately gunned down by a spray of bullets. Jones begins choking on the blood that is slowly filling his lungs from the gunshot wound to his chest but opens his eyes to the sound of respirator hissing. His eyes lift to see Bane standing over him.
"I'll die before I talk," Jones says weakly.
"I'm on your schedule, captain," Bane says in an almost amused tone, falling down on one knee directly over the bullet wound on Jones' chest, squashing the air right out of his lungs and suffocating him from the full weight of Bane's body. Bane simply watches as Captain Jones fights at Bane's thigh weakly with his hands as he begins choking and gasping for breath.
"There were people living upstairs," one of Bane's men's shouts towards him.
Bane looks up and around him to evaluate his surroundings before standing up and away from Captain Jones' dead body.
"Round them up for judgement…and hang them.." Bane points at the Special Forcers officers "…where the world can see," Bane finishes, using his finger to point at the Special Forces bodies.
Bane turns and leaves to head back to the penthouse building. He still has unfinished business.
Myra decided to go down to the lobby level in the event that she would possibly overhear some type of news as it was concerned with the Special Forces Captain Jones and his men, either from eavesdropping on one of Bane's men's conversation's or even in a more unlikely scenario, receive another secreted note indicated the status of the operation. She was wading through the throng of prostitutes and men when the hair at the back of her neck suddenly stood up as if an electric charge had suddenly surged through the room.
"MYRA!"
Myra heard her name unmistakably being shouted by Bane from across the lobby, his voice resonating and echoing through the high ceiling and walls from the deep baritone he projected through his mask mixed with the anger and force he expelled his words.
Everyone in the lobby immediately becomes silent and still from the amplified booming authoritative voice of Bane, snapping their heads in unison to look at him. Myra herself became still like a deer as if suddenly caught in front of a car's headlights. She turned towards the source, standing on her tip toes to look over someone's shoulder to see Bane standing near the exit looking in her direction. He was fuming and looked absolutely livid. A chill that reminded her of an electronic shock ran up her spine.
Myra quickly looked around her to see if anyone had noticed or recognized her. She had no desire for a confrontation here; and the anger projected from his voice indicated that there would definitely be a confrontation. Unfortunately, there could only be one thing she could think of that would warrant this level of anger from him due to something she did.
She silently slipped backwards between a few people towards the long hallway that led to the elevators. A few individuals turned to look at her, then to Bane, then back to her though no one dared to reach out and touch her to try and stop her. They simply let her pass, though they didn't move to ease her passage to the elevators. This forced Myra to have to shove past and attempt to slide in between shoulders and bodies.
For Bane, however, they separated like the Red Sea parting for Moses once Bane spotted her retreating, creating a direct path between him and Myra. He immediately stormed after her, necks turning and wide eyes focusing on him as he passed by the spectators in a flurry after Myra.
Myra urged her legs to walk faster, looking over her shoulder to see Bane storming after her. To say he looked angry would be an understatement. The look he was directing at her encouraged her to quickly transition from the fast-paced walk into an outright sprint.
She skidded to a halt in front of the elevators, quickly pressing the 'up' button in rapid succession. One of the available elevators released a 'ding' noise as the doors opened. She rushed in and pressed the top floor button followed immediately by the 'close elevator floor' button, taking a step back to push herself up against the back wall of the elevator in the event that Bane charged into the elevator blindly. Based on the speed and momentum he was walking when she peeked at him over her shoulder, he would plow her down like a stampede of bulls if she wasn't clear of his path.
As the doors closed, she saw Bane appear in the closing slit of the doors, reaching his fingers forward to stop it. He was too late, however, as the elevator doors fully shut, and she felt the elevator shift and then start to ascend upwards to the top floor.
Myra heard a loud 'bang'. She quickly determined it to be something forcefully smashing against the elevator doors in anger. She immediately assumed it to be Bane's fists. Her breath caught in her throat, but she immediately let out a relieved sigh when she realized she had a few seconds to collect herself and escape his obvious wrath.
Once she made it to the top floor, she sprinted towards the master suite. She wasn't quite sure what her plan should be at this point; should she run? Should she go to a different floor? Should she hide? She settled on simply hiding. She knew it was too late at this point to turn back to the elevators and make an attempt at hiding on a different floor; he was undoubtedly riding up on a different elevator right at this moment.
She burst through the doors, closing them behind her, and looked around her settings. Her eyes shifted towards the coat closet at the entrance. She sighed, knowing it may seem like an obvious hiding location, but who was she kidding? He was going to find her no matter where she hid. She just wanted as much time as she could to collect her thoughts before he confronted her. She rushed towards the closet, opening it, and then dove into it to hide amongst several very large coats that had once belonged to John Daggett. She crouched down hoping that minimizing her size may make her less noticeable and perhaps even overlooked.
Myra, unfortunately, didn't have long to collect her thoughts in the darkness of the coat closet. A bright flash of light suddenly flooded the closet as the door whipped open. Myra looked up to see Bane standing in the entrance, glaring down directly at her. Bane observed her as a mixture of fright and confusion overtook her face. Her confusion infuriated him; to him, it highlighted her naivety which normally he perceived perhaps as an endearing trait but now it simply rubbed him the wrong way. It meant that she hadn't comprehended what her actions meant and how much time, effort, and sacrifice she could have obliterated with her meddling. It meant that she didn't contemplate the prospect that Talia would get involved and force him to deal with the situation – deal with her. Myra, of course, had a vague idea of what her actions meant; Bane had misinterpreted her confusion. She was confused because she was genuinely frightened; a feeling she hadn't felt since the first time she ever laid eyes on Bane.
Her eyes grew wide when she saw him make an aggressive move by stomping one foot forward and darting an arm out towards her. She flinched, letting out a surprised yelp and covered her face with her hands, thinking he meant to hit her.
She didn't feel a blow to her face, but felt his hand firmly grab hold of her scruff at the back of her neck to forcefully pull her up onto her feet and out of the closet where he then began to steer her towards the bedroom. She stumbled several times, but felt her body being held up as if by a harness from the grip and support Bane had on the back of her shirt at the neck. He made a quick detour at the computer desk in the corner of the bedroom, grabbing the chair with his other free hand, and dragged it along behind him with Myra still held firmly in his other hand. He swung the chair around to aim it at the television in the room before mirroring the movement with Myra by swinging her around to seat her firmly in the chair. He pointed a finger directly into her face, practically jabbing her in the nose.
"Don't you dare move," he seethed, glaring at her before moving away from her to grab the TV remote from the side table by the bed.
Bane pointed the remote at the TV and turned it on, switching it to the news. He turned the volume to maximum before putting the remote down on the table. He went to stand directly behind Myra, resting his hands firmly on her shoulders. Myra's eyes wandered, first focusing on his movements as he moved to place the remote on the desk and then when he moved to stand behind her, craning her neck back to look back at him. He put a hand on the top of her head and used it to firmly steer her head back towards the TV.
"Watch," he ordered, his fingers digging into her scalp to ensure her head didn't turn away.
Myra's eyes focused on the screen. Band lowered his face down just above her shoulder next to her cheek to whisper into her ear.
"Do they look familiar?" he asked in a low, chilling whisper.
Myra's eyes wandered across the screen, trying to determine who it was she was supposed to identify. She saw a bridge, with what looked like objects suspended off of it by rope. The cameraman zoomed in and it became quickly obvious that those 'suspended objects' were people. Her eyes grew large as she took it in, not immediately making the connection of who the individuals were until she read the subtitles on the bottom of the screen identifying them as Special Forces Captain Jones and his men.
Myra turned her face away from the screen as soon as she made the connection of who they were, breaking the grip he had on the top of her head. Bane darted a hand out and grabbed her by the jaw none-too-gently, steering it back to look at the screen. When she was forced back to look towards the screen, she closed her eyes instead to block the images. Bane took notice and shook her jaw, squeezing it in a manner that would undoubtedly cause bruising along her chin and lower jawline.
"Open your eyes or I will open them for you," he sneered, giving her jaw another shake and a strong squeeze, perhaps forgetting himself and the strength he was capable of.
Myra kept her eyes closed, disregarding his threat as well as the pain she was feeling blossoming in her jaw. He gave her several seconds to comply but seeing that she had no intention of doing so, he brought his free hand up near her eye. He used his large calloused thumb to push forward over her eyelid and forcibly slide it up her eyeball, pinching the skin of the lid between his thumb and forefinger to keep it open. This caused Myra considerable discomfort as her eyes began to water. She brought her hands up and began clawing and pushing at his hands that held her jaw and her eyelid, but her actions were entirely ineffective against Bane.
"It appears that you have been abusing your privilege," Bane goaded.
Myra most certainly didn't feel privileged as she sat there, uncomfortable and distressed.
"You owe it to them to watch; you are ultimately responsible for their deaths," he sneered, moving his body to give her an unimpeded view of the screen. Myra's eyes began to coat with a thick layer of moisture as she stared, her chest heaving as labored breaths escaped her lips.
After several minutes, Bane released his hold on her jaw and eyelid with a shove, evidence of swelling along her jaw and eyelid becoming painfully apparent. Her one eye was now a beat red from being thoroughly dried out despite the tears that had clustered at the corner. She brought one hand up to cover and massage it, trying to work out the pain she was feeling.
"There seems to be a theme with you, Ms. Bell. If I were a group of officers who favored traveling or working in threes, I would avoid you like the plague," Bane mused, as if telling an incredibly humorous joke.
Myra sat in silence, clenching the fabric of the hem of her shirt, averting her eyes to the floor. Who could do something so demonstratively….evil.
Myra suddenly turned off to the side of her chair and vomited, the culmination of her perceived very poor and misguided life choices and judge of character catching up with her. Her face paled considerably.
She eased herself back up to sit straighter in the chair only to immediately slouch as if her life force had been extruded through the top of her head leaving only an empty husk as she retreated internally inside herself. She kept her eyes cast down as she finally spoke, not caring or daring to look at him. She brought the hand that had been covering her eye down to rest in her lap, squeezing the hem of her shirt. She mumbled something to him. He leaned his head forward as a clear indicator that he had not heard what she had said.
'Hmm?' he voiced, urging her to speak up.
Myra mumbled again, still incoherent.
"What's that you said? Here, let me help you…" Bane said as if offering to ease the burden off of her shoulders.
Bane retreated quickly to Myra's nightstand which hosted an array of glasses of water that Bane had fetched over a period of time for her that now sat half-full and abandoned. He grabbed two glasses, pouring the contents of one into the other to make one full glass before he returned to stand in front of Myra, bringing the glass up to Myra's face. She craned her neck back, turning her head away when it became obvious Bane wanted to force her to drink water. His free hand came up and clutched the top of her head to force it still as he started pouring water into her face.
The motion of the liquid falling into tightly closed lips caused her to sharply inhale in surprise as it bounced up and into her nose, making her immediately cough and sputter as she very thoroughly felt like she was being waterboarded as water went down the wrong pipe. The type of death that Myra feared most wasn't dismemberment, being hung, or being shot; it was drowning. So, when she started feeling the undeniable sensation of being unable to breath due to the water being poured down both of her pipes, it was beyond traumatic. It overwhelmed the part of her brain that handled fear. Bane pushed her hands away when she tried shoving and clawing the glass from her lips, which he easily deflected. Bane didn't stop until the glass was empty. By that time, Myra was practically heaving and in a coughing fit from the inhalation of water in her lungs.
He leaned forward again to give her a second chance at speaking up.
'Just kill me," Myra finally sobbed out in a huff, numb, choking, broken. Terrorized.
She was not mentally prepared for this situation. She had, to some extent, thought she was special as it pertained to Bane. I'm not special. She had never had anyone be so vehemently angry at her for something she did. She didn't like people screaming at her, disliking her, hating her, let alone appearing to threaten her very existence as if they were on the verge of snuffing her out. Particularly people she had just moments earlier cared for so deeply and unconditionally, had opened up to them and had freely given them her absolute trust.
Myra made the realization then that her feelings weren't unconditional; she did have conditions. Her condition was that he never ever treated her like this. No one deserved this. She felt herself transitioning from being his woman, simply and utterly devoted to him and being simply 'his' (was I ever even that?) to another one of his faceless seemingly inconsequential victims.
She wasn't an idiot; she knew Bane to kill and torture individuals for far less offenses made against him, sometimes having a preference for pain and torture prior to granting his victim death depending on the severity of their offense against him. And Myra knew she had definitely offended him. She also knew the severity of her offense. She wasn't prepared in any, way, shape, or form for whatever kind of torture tactics he had planned for her, however. She just wanted him to grant her one last kindness and get it over with. She released the tight hold she had on the loose material of her shirt hem before she lifted her chin. She repeated her request with more earnestness.
"Please kill me," she begged.
Bane stared, genuine shock consuming him, perhaps thoroughly unprepared for this sort of reaction from Myra. He vented several large huffs through his mask as if inflating a balloon, still driven by his anger and need to demonstrate to her the very serious error of her ways so she never did it again. He felt his throat catch unexpectedly, finding it difficult to continue or respond to her perhaps because he was, uncharacteristically, at a loss for words. He turned his head off to the side as he contemplated this.
After several moments as Bane internalized his thoughts, Myra reacted. She reached out and snatched his hand and curled it around her throat like a loaded weapon, using her hand over his in an attempt to goad him into squeezing. Bane immediately recoiled his hand, disgusted by her display. When she eventually saw he had no intention of killing her with his hands, Bane observed her as her eyes started darting past him around the room as if searching for a tool or accessory to aid in the process herself.
Bane felt himself becoming inexplicably frightened. He couldn't recall the last time he had felt this level of chill run up the length of his spine as he observed the desperation in her eyes as she continued her search. It didn't even occur to him that he had the potential to elicit this type of response from her. He didn't usually deal with individuals like Myra; the 'non-disposable' variety. Had he been too rough? What did he do to make her react so quickly and strongly to him in such a very negative way? He turned his head to look away from her as he continued to swim in his thoughts.
He quickly snapped his head back in her direction, however, when he sensed her move again and take something from his belt; his holstered pistol. He just barely snatched her wrist in time before the muzzle made clearance to point directly up into her chin at an upwards angle. Her arm shook, her breathing labored and making huff noises between her lips as she attempted to use all available strength and muscle to point it in an effective angle, even rising from her chair in an attempt to bodily bring herself closer to weapon. Bane was much stronger than she was, however. He simply stared at her display, shocked. He squeezed her wrists until she was forced to let go of the pistol. He quickly removed the magazine from the weapon before reholstering it into his pocket, giving her a glare, pushing her back down in the chair.
As Myra got pushed back down into her chair, a feeling of shock slowly took over her. Absolute and genuine shock. She simply sat there, synthesizing it all. She suddenly felt lost; misplaced. Disconnected. Like something suddenly broke inside her head. Where...am I? How did I get here? What….what did I do? I'm not sure I'm supposed to be here. I'm late for work. When does class start? Am I late for class? Who is he? Why was he yelling at me? Oh right..I know who he is. He's...Bane? He's a terrorist. A mercenary. He kills people. He's a killer. He has Gotham under martial law, right? He plans on blowing up Gotham? How did you get here? Why are you with him? What did you do, Myra? WHAT DID YOU DO?
Bane watched as her facial expression transitioned into dull resignation, the spark, humor, joy for life, and sass that clearly made up the essence of Myra Bell getting forcefully extinguished. His eyes started to soften after observing her transition, knowing she was currently internalizing and wishing for her own death. He knew he pushed her too far; he also felt undeniable responsible for extinguishing the zeal and warmth from her eyes. It was not a pleasant or desirable feeling for him. He began second-guessing himself.
Second-guessing was not a usual occurrence for Bane. Before, he never had to worry about reigning himself in with anyone and practicing restraint; that notion was a new concept for him. Restraint. When he was in his element, and was eliciting chastisement and torture, he ran wild and free. Now...he wasn't sure what his motive had been. He simply wanted to illustrate to Myra in a visual way; hanging three bodies on the bridge for her to see was deemed entirely sufficient. He didn't care if she thought it was monstrous or sickening; that was the point because he knew then she wouldn't do it again. He didn't want to physically punish her, so wasn't it appropriate to physically punish them instead? Display their bodies? Couldn't they act as her royal whipping boys, absorb the punishment that Myra deserved?
He knew if she did decide to aid in defusing the neutron bomb again, then it would be very probable that she would end up dead not from his own hand but from Talia who undoubtedly had her limits when it came to someone impeding her plans.
It took considerable effort for Bane to transition from the pure heated anger he had been feeling and swallow his pride to into a consoling, softer mood. Before, his anger had simply dealt with the fact that she went behind his back and tried smuggling in individuals to diffuse the neutron bomb. Now, he was angry at her for another entirely different reason, which completely dwarfed his initial anger; he couldn't believe she wanted to kill herself. And leave him. Leave him as if she didn't even care. As if he didn't matter. Blowing her brains out right in front of him as if that wouldn't have had an impact on him. Or perhaps she did know that it would have a tremendous affect on him, and it was her way at causing him pain for the pain he had very obviously seemed to have caused her.
He had to bury this new raging anger. To say it didn't test his mental load and physical control would be an understatement. He had to push aside the images flashing in his head of her sitting lifeless in the chair with a bullet through her head. Of her body slumped forward, unmoving. To never move again.
Bane let out several very strong breaths as he mediated his mind and quelled out these tormenting images before he turned his focus back on to her. Her expression hadn't changed; in fact, nothing about her changed. She simply sat there like a lifeless doll. He bent down in front of her on his knees, reaching out a hand to wipe away the water that coated her jaw and neck, concern in his eyes. Her eyes remained fixated on the floor, staring, not rising to meet his.
"Shhh...I don't want to hear such a ridiculous request from you. I would be very cross if you were dead," he eased out almost jokingly, hoping to lighten the mood and stir something inside of her.
He moved his hand to gently stroke her chin, his eyes moving to the red marks that marred her jaw and chin from the aggressive manhandling he had subscribed to earlier, regretting it immensely, wondering why they looked so swollen and tender. He searched her face, waiting for her to look up at him. She didn't.
"Who else am I going to beat so viciously at Scrabble, hmm?" He teased further, bending his head down and arching his head so that his eyes were in her downcast line of sight. He rose his brows at her questioningly, wiggling them playfully, after he made eye contact with her, hoping to elicit a response from his physically playful display. He received no response from her.
Bane stood up, hoisting her up too. Myra's knees seemed to fail as if she were a lifeless doll he was attempting to stand up on two unstable feet. Her eyelids also looked heavy as if she were having difficulty mustering up energy to even keep them open. He made an attempt at ignoring her physical display, pulling her into his chest, and rested a hand behind her head. He gently started to massage it.
When she continued to stand limply, he gave her a good shake by the shoulders. When this, too, failed to elicit a response, he eased himself back away from her, holding her by the shoulders to leverage her away from him so he could observe her properly. He shook her shoulders again to get her attention when it was obvious she was going to maintain her fixation on the floor.
Her eyes finally rose up to meet his, but immediately diverted to look past his shoulder at the TV. She stared, fixated. Fixated on the cruel way Bane showcased the bodies of the individuals she helped smuggle into Gotham.
Bane held her shoulders before he looked over his shoulder to observe where her attention was diverted to. He immediately grimaced, releasing his hold on her and stomping towards the screen. Without hesitation, he slammed a balled fist directly into the center of the screen, causing glass and sparks to fly before the screen blinked several times before it went black and died. When Bane turned around and made his way back to her, he saw that her eyes were diverted to the floor again. He encapsulated her into a gentle hug.
"Enough with this foolishness, hmm?" he inquired into her ear, stroking the back of her head. Myra stood limp and passive.
"HMM?" he said, one of his hands dropping to her sides.
When she didn't verbally respond, he gave a playful feathered tickle against her side.
His heart fell into the pit of his stomach when he received no reaction as his fingers began feathering up and down her sides. He moved her back away from him to look at her face again after this, confused, astonished, and deeply concerned. Heartbroken.
Bane quickly cleared his throat and took a deep breath, trying to fight back the redness building in his eyes. After fighting back this redness, he refocused on her eyes. And then he saw it; she was very clearly 'checked out'. The look in her eye indicated that she had suffered some sort of mental collapse or trauma. Bane never imagined he would ever see this look in Myra's eyes, let alone be the cause of it.
He continued to search her face, looking for some shimmer, acknowledgement, or variety of emotion play across her face but all he saw was a gray slate. Emptiness. Like she had retreated back into herself after sensing unspeakable and unimaginable horror charging her way, erecting a very large powerful internal wall that nothing or no one could penetrate. For what she had experienced was truly unimaginable. She had never imagined, in her wildest nightmares, that someone she could care for so deeply would cause her so much physical and emotional abuse, distress, and pain.
Bane was desperate; he gave her another shake at her shoulders to get her to look at him with some level of comprehension.
"I have no intention of killing you, do you understand me?" he breathed out quickly, searching her face as he brought a hand up to stroke her cheek and forehead in an attempt to invigorate life back into her, hoping his words were the words she was hoping and waiting for.
Myra did react. She blinked several slow times before suddenly looking around, confusion overtaking her features as she took in her environment. Then she startled when she saw him in front of her, her eyes rising to meet his. A different look overtook her confusion as she looked him over. Almost as if she was seeing him for the first time, for what he truly was. A Monster.
Bane felt his insides clench and grind at this silent judgmental stare aimed directly back at him, having seen this look in so many other individuals but never in her eyes before. His breath caught in his throat, finding it difficult to breath, as he looked away quickly to avoid her piercing stare. He also made an attempt to push the moisture that slowly coated his eyes, his heart twisting in his chest at his own involvement in encouraging her into this perceived revelation based on the way he treated her, surprising himself at how much it affected him emotionally. He could feel pounding in his ears as his heart began very painfully working inside his chest.
He wrapped an arm around her shoulder to draw her in close so he no longer had to suffer looking at her judgmental gaze. He steered her from the room, which she reluctantly complied to as her feet dragged clumsily on the floor. Myra's eyes averted to fixate on her pile of vomit, leaning forward slightly as if to try and determine what it was and how it got there, looking confused.
"...don't worry about that. I'll clean that up. Hmm?" He coaxed out soothingly, rubbing her shoulder as if she had just undergone a painful dental procedure. Myra didn't respond, her body looking sluggish and drunk as she walked alongside him out of the room.
Author: I KNOW, I KNOW. I lulled you all into a false sense of security and I very clearly pulled the rug out from under your feet. *Hides under the bed*