Chapter Four: You Have Violated the Laws of the Sea
As Lena remained sprawled out on the unevenly textured deck, slipping in and out of consciousness, Bane focused his attention out past the stern, his palm still tingled from the warm press of the flesh of her inner thigh.
Just a couple hours away, Captain Aleksander Dymtrus reviewed and signed off on an inspection report when the news of the four-kiloton neutron bomb detonated in Gotham City reached his ears.
Aleksander's first lieutenant brought him an electronic tablet and aerial footage of the mushroom cloud rising from the Gotham City inferno, millions of lives ended on live television.
As Aleksander watched the news footage, the first thing that sprang to his mind was regret at not being able to bury his cock inside Miranda, the second thought, well-delayed, was if Miranda still even possessed a heartbeat and therefore the ability to spread her legs.
Aleksander continued to watch the breaking news footage aboard the cargo ship The Maybutnye, the Ukrainian letters in bold inky black paint. The looping, cursive calligraphy translating to The Future.
The large letters looked out over the open water, keeping watch for Bane and his living cargo who were moving closer with each passing moment. On board the aluminum fishing boat Hope, Lena moaned and weakly raised a hand to cover her eyes from the penetrating shafts of sunlight, undiluted from a cloudless sky.
Lena's mouth was bone dry and she coughed weakly as a deep, rich pain spilled from the epicenter of her inner thigh where the flesh had been instantly seared under the red-hot twisted coil from where Bane pressed it. Lena's smooth, supple skin had opened under the heated metal, the layer of fat melted like butter. She wrinkled her nose as she swam in and out of consciousness as her nose was assaulted by the lingering scent in the air of her flesh cooking.
Lena rolled to her side as acidic bile raced up her throat, her belly threatening to eject her earlier fast-food lunch. She covered her mouth and tried to suppress her sobs behind her palm as the sunlight burned through her eyelids.
Bane looked over his shoulder to where Lena had rolled towards the wall, her knee hitting the fire extinguisher. He watched her shoulders shake as she whimpered, hissing when her thigh prevented her from curling into a fetal position and disappearing.
Behind his mask, Bane pressed his scarred lips together as he contemplated what to do with his unexpected cargo.
"She brings a lot of risks, attention," Bane thought as he stared down at Lena's weeping, shaking form. He pursed his lips and felt his breath once again hitch despite the mechanically timed aerosol inhalant as he wanted to once again be kneeling between her spread thighs.
Bane's fingertips itched to once again tear her taupe nylons free, find her bare flesh and rest his palm on her trembling skin. He dropped his other hand to rest on the front of his pants, biocentrically moving as he kept replaying the sheer pain that had distorted her beautiful features, wanting to rip his mask free, life be damned, to press his lips to hers, consume her fear, grief, and agony.
"Her allegiance will never align with yours; she will never stop fighting you," Bane thought as Lena's cries began to taper as her body's shock process mollified her frayed and overstimulated nervous system.
Bane returned his gaze to back out past the stern as the Port of Authority appeared in the distance and the vague shape of the cargo ship The Maybutnye grew sharper in focus as Bane navigated the fishing boat closer and flicked his gaze briefly back to Lena who had fallen into a torrid, feverish sleep.
"Is she worth the high cost of danger?" Bane asked himself before bringing the aluminum fishing boat to a free section of dock, tying the sturdy rope in a knot to an iron cleat.
Bane squatted by Lena and unfastened the rope from around her neck, tracing the rough pad of his thumb on the bright red abrasions on her slim neck. He pulled her close as he stood, bringing her with him as he rose to his full height.
Lena groaned as Bane jostled her upright and settled her on a bench bolted to the deck. Bane kneeled down on one knee and scrutinized her pale, sweaty features while on top of the cargo ship, Captain Aleksander Dymtrus squinted down at the fishing boat, trying to discern if he was looking at Miranda Tate plus one.
On the deck of the aluminum boat Hope, Bane pulled Lena to her feet, gripping her elbows firmly as he swayed unevenly. She took deep breaths of the briny, salt air and squinted at her surroundings, trying to make a note of everything for when she brought Bane to justice for crimes against humanity.
Lena tried to stand on her own and would've fallen had Bane not caught her. She pushed at his broad chest and only started to collapse again when he gave her space.
Lena sighed with ragged resignation as Bane held his elbow out, forcing her to touch him, to choose him for balance, to pick him to lean against, select him for support.
"This way officer Fischer, we're on a tight timeline," Bane murmured in the small space before she linked her arm through his and sagged against him heavily as she allowed him to lead her to the cargo ship and the waiting Ukrainian captain, his cock already at half-mast as he thought of Miss Miranda Tate being out at sea with him, no more excuses or places she needed to be then under him or in any other position he desired.
Aleksander's lust-fueled walking pace was quickly smothered to death in its crib when the woman tucked against the fearsome masked man's side was not the austere and benevolent Miranda Tate.
"You are?" Aleksander asked, frowning as his eyes moved over Bane's formidable frame and the half-conscious woman in a designer gown swaying on her feet next to him.
"Miranda Tate's guests," Bane stated, hating to refer to Talia's repugnant façade.
Aleksander's brow pulled into a frown as he tried to process the masked man's words. "I don't understand, where is Miss Tate?" he asked, his thoughts again returning to regret, his cock deflating as it mourned the taste of her rich cunt.
Bane reached out a hand to squeeze the young captain's shoulder. "Miss Tate needed to change her travel plans and will be meeting you in Kyiv," he murmured in a reassuring melodical tone.
Aleksander's eyes and testosterone perked back up as thoughts of high-class pussy filled both of his heads.
"Well then, excellent," Aleksander said, blinded by his basal desires and taking Bane's word as fact, his ignorance a privilege of the youth.
Bane smiled behind his mask as the young man practically revealed his come face as he escorted Bane and Lena to the two cargo containers that Talia had reserved as Miranda Tate.
The sky-blue containers with their peeling paint were both 8 x 8½ x 40 feet long and settled so close to each other, a stiff breeze couldn't have passed between them. Lena perked up somewhat as Aleksander's first lieutenant pulled opened the squealing double doors and led them inside.
Lena couldn't believe her eyes as she took in the completely insulated, furnished and temperature-controlled interior of the cargo container. The two blue containers were joined in the middle and boasted a dining room as well as a kitchenette with a refrigerator stocked with culinary delicacies, from salty Iberico ham to sticky, sweet dragon fruit.
Lena blinked as she looked around, her eyes falling to a king-sized bed, covered with a high thread count linen over a plush mattress.
A glass-top bar hailed top-shelf alcohol and spirits from a veritable Ivory Tower that existed on top of Mount Olympus. Talia had been dressed up as Miranda Tate in a transparent negligee, sitting on Aleksander's lap, grinding her pussy against him as she whispered her travel requests in his ear. Aleksander said yes to everything as his hands squeezed her hips until his fingertips bruised her warm flesh.
Talia had requested through Miranda's dulcet tones that she wanted cheap* Russo-Baltique vodka, retailing for $740K a bottle as well as a bottle of The Eye of the Dragon, a real bargain at $5.5 million.
"What is this?" Lena couldn't help but ask, true astonishment in her voice, her pain momentarily forgotten as she took in the genuine Persian rug dominating the floor of the cargo container.
Aleksander, his first lieutenant and Bane all chuckled at Lena's childlike awe but collectively didn't answer.
The first lieutenant tapped his watch and Aleksander consulted his own before nodding and murmuring lowly. Aleksander turned back towards Bane. "We'll be departing the port in thirty minutes," he said before nodding once at Lena and leaving the two of them alone in the plush cargo container.
"What is this?" Lena asked again with a stronger voice.
Bane led Lena to an ornate chair with a thick cushion where she gratefully settled her aching body before he answered. "These containers are treated as diplomatic mail, the cargo ships are held only to the laws of the sea, not that of the land."
"I don't understand," Lena said as she frowned through her headache as she shook her head.
"Prime Minister's had to find a way to import their Cuban cigars without governmental oversight and war criminals had to find a way to say auf Wiedersehen to their Homeland. 1945 was a busy year," Bane added with a wink.
Lena watched Bane turn and survey the forty feet of space that had been injected with opulence. He clenched his teeth so hard his jaw popped as he stalked into the adjoined container and found more of the decadence that Talia ordered as she pumped her pussy against the Ukrainian captain's face, promising him wealth beyond his wildest dream and the end of the rainbow inside her clutching, wet center.
In the thirty minutes before the massive cargo ship departed, Lena tilted her ear towards her shoulder and gave an audible moan as a wash of pain rippled from the crown of her head to the nail beds of her baby toes. Bane walked over to the glass top bar and plucked a crystal decanter at random before he poured her a full highball glass of scotch.
Lena murmured her thanks and drank the potent alcohol quickly, eager for the numbing touch of alcohol as it raced in a hot path down her throat and spread warmth through her chest and belly. Bane watched Lena drain the glass, his eyes focused on a single drop of amber colored alcohol perched on her full lower lip. He had no idea the cost of that solitary drop on her dry, chapped lip.
As Lena fell into a light nap, gently embraced by the alcohol, Bane continued to examine the lush interior of the containers that Aleksander had ensured met each and every one of Miss Miranda Tate's required travel specifications.
Bane finished his self-guided tour of the containers before returning his attention to Lena as she snored lightly, slumped in the antique chair.
His footfalls were silent as he crossed the vibrant Persian rug and plucked the highball glass from her hand that was growing slacker with each passing moment. Bane squatted down and traced his fingertips along the pointed toes of her red-soled high heels.
Bane tugged her left shoe free, tracing the tip of his index finger on her big toe through the seam of the nylons before closing one hand around her right ankle and the other cradling the bottom of the obscenely expensive shoe.
The ship sounded its departure at that precise moment, the bellowing horn woke Lena and she yelped involuntarily when she found Bane knelt in front of her.
Lena tried to tug her foot out of Bane's grasp, only causing him to tighten his grip before smoothing his hand up the back of her leg, his palm cupping the roundest part of her calf, squeezing with enough pressure to make her gasp.
Bane held her eyes as he tugged her shoe free and tossed it to clatter against its designer mate.
Bane kept her locked in stasis under his penetrating gaze as he rose to his full height and held out a hand towards her.
"What?" Lena asked groggily as her eyes nearly crossed trying to focus on his extended hand.
"Stand up officer Fischer, you'll be more comfortable laying down," Bane said and watched Lena's forehead pull into a frown, a billion new fears and worries reshaped her exquisite face. He watched the skin pull tight over her cheekbones that could cut glass as she pressed her lips together and remained resolutely still.
"We have a long trip ahead of us," Bane added as he kept his hand held out towards her.
Lena blinked slowly and sleepily, the overtaxed processing center of her brain was weary from the toxic weight of her fears, nearly paralyzed in a bear trap of the unknown.
Bane could see all of that, hear everything she didn't say as he stared down at her.
"All I can do is lie to her," Bane thought.
Theatricality and deception had never been difficult for him.
"Would you prefer your journey to end now officer Fischer?" Bane asked on a musical whisper that reeked of felony assault and premeditated homicide.
Lena broke out of her fugue and shook her head, the movement barely perceptible with the overwhelming tidal wave of pain that threatened to waterboard her.
"I take this obligation freely," Lena thought as she reached for his hand. "Freely," she reminded herself as she allowed Bane to practically lift her off her feet.
Lena allowed Bane to lead her towards the bed, the forty-foot length of the cargo container seemed shorter as the lavish linen covered bed loomed closer.
Lena dug her bare heels into the Persian rug and balked as he drew her close enough to the bed that she could discern the delicate lotus design in the duvet cover.
"Act like the solder you are Talia," Bane grunted and yanked on Lena's upper arm, practically raising her up on to her tip toes.
"I'm not Talia," Lena murmured as her thoughts returned to a freeze frame image of the broken woman tangled in the twisted metal of the wreckage, her viscera splashed wetly onto the floorboards. "Is that the woman you pulled out of the truck?" she added before Bane could correct his mistake.
"Yes," Bane finally said, feeling a foreign flush of embarrassment spread throughout his broad body as he also began picturing Talia ripped apart and crudely painted from top to bottom in the truck's cab, a Pollack with a once-living canvas.
"I'm sorry," Lena said lamely.
"Thank you," Bane said in a clipped tone. "Please indulge me in laying down officer Fischer, it has been tiresome in reaching this point," he added, letting some of the fatigue openly stain his spoken syllables.
Lena's body craved the very thought of a mattress cradling her battered body, her swollen and inflamed joints were nearly audible as they joined her muscle fibers in chanting for rest and the chance to begin the healing process.
As Lena tried to keep her shoulders back and her spine rigidly straight, the cargo ship The Maybutnye, departed from the Port of Authority, New York. Aleksander liked to travel at a comfortable 20 knots, it would take close to ten days to travel the more than 6,024 nautical miles back to his home in the Ukraine.
Lena actively fought her body from falling into an exhausted abyss as Bane reached past her to pull back the thick, luxurious covers. Bane tired of asking for her cooperation and roughly forced her to sit by pushing down on her shoulders, misdirecting his feeling of foolishness for calling her Talia in his immediate frustration.
Bane turned and crossed the room to the closet he had inspected earlier and plucked an emerald-green nightgown from a padded hanger and returned to where Lena swayed and struggled to keep her eyes open.
"You can't sleep in this," Bane commented as his large fingers fumbled at the delicate zipper of her gown.
Lena couldn't stay still and tried to squirm away. It was useless with her sheer fatigue and awakened pain as she moved too fast.
"How long did you serve your city officer Fischer?" Bane asked and felt Lena's defensive hackles rise as she spoke through clenched teeth.
"Five years," she answered tonelessly.
"Did they teach you nothing about obedience?" Bane chastised.
Lena felt her anger flare and pushed hard against his broad chest, her palms meeting an immovable wall of muscle as Bane growled and snaked his hand up to capture her good wrist.
Bane forced a startled shout from Lena as he easily overpowered her and roughly turned her onto her stomach. He pulled her arm up behind her back, turning her palm inwards, torqueing her wrist just enough to compel her to stop struggling as involuntary tears stung her eyes. Lena grew still as Bane's free hand returned to the dainty zipper of her high-fashion gown.
They both held their breaths as Bane pulled the brushed metal tab of her zipper down, the fabric parting to reveal the smooth, warm skin of her back.
Bane salivated and swallowed hard when the zipper reached the base of her back, sliding down the light sway of her lower back.
Lena inhaled sharply when Bane hooked his index finger in the cotton band of her heather-grey bra. "Will you finish changing of your own accord now officer Fischer?" he asked on a musical rasp.
Bane's gravelly words slipped under her skin and teased her frazzled nerve endings.
Lena nodded, not trusting the strength of her voice to attempt speaking.
Bane kept his hold on her wrist unbreakable as he lapsed into silence after her small nod. He barely suppressed a groan as a roiling sourness swirled in his gut and he began to pull at the back of the unzipped gown until the fabric started to split at the seams.
"I'll change, I'll change," Lena stammered as Bane continued tearing the fabric apart. He paused as the back of the dress remained attached by just a few remaining threads. Under the meshed front of his titanium mask, his nostrils flared as he couldn't catch his breath, his heart thudded strongly in its opaque pericardial sac, nestled deep within his muscular chest.
Lena released the breath she'd been holding when Bane eventually released his grip on her wrist. She felt the top of the mattress dip sharply when Bane pushed himself off of her and wordlessly walked to the adjoining container, abruptly giving her a modicum of perceived privacy.
Lena shrugged out of the torn gown; the ripped seams made of money. She looked to the doorway Bane had disappeared through before she pulled off the nylons and slipped out of her bra and panties. Lena couldn't help but shiver as the liquid silk of the nightgown fell around her, the fabric butterfly soft against her skin.
Bane paced the length of the other forty-foot container until he heard the mattress squeak as Lena slipped underneath the lush linen.
Lena looked up as Bane reappeared through the adjoining doorway and caught her dragging her fingers through her tangled hair. He felt a surge of lust shoot through his body at the visible expanse of the bare skin of her upper chest the nightgown revealed.
Bane walked to the other side of the bed and settled on it heavily, a groan falling from between his lips at the reluctance to savor the plush mattress under his chronically pain-riddled body.
"It is unsafe for you to be away from my side on this ship," Bane said before he began unclipping the Kevlar vest encasing his broad chest. Lena watched him drop the vest to the floor as he followed it up by peeling his shirt free.
Bane rose to his feet and turned to face her as he dropped his hands to fumble with his belt and zipper. "Don't attempt anything foolish officer Fischer," he added as he held her eyes and stepped out of his cargo pants.
Lena felt a slow blush crawl up her neck and spread across her face as she struggled to not move her eyes over Bane's near nudity. She cleared her throat and blinked sharply, looking away from him dressed only in a pair of royal blue boxer briefs.
Bane pulled back the heavy bed linen on his side of the bed and slid onto the mattress, the sheets smooth under his scarred skin and embattled body.
Lena worked the last of the snarls from her long silken strands before settling lower in the bed and adjusting the feather pillow behind her head.
Bane watched her pull the covers up to her chest, taking special notice to scrutinize each of her fingers, a warm glow of pleasure birthed in his groin to find no trace of a ring on either hand.
Bane rolled to his side to face her as she covered a yawn.
"I need to hear you say you won't try anything reckless officer Fischer," Bane murmured, his words deepened from her close proximity. The warm smell of her skin moved through the mesh front of his mask and tantalized his olfactory senses.
Lena closed her eyes and squeezed the bridge of her nose as she mumbled incoherently, gasping as the mattress dipped and he slid impossible close.
"I need to hear you say it," Bane repeated with measured patience as he accompanied his words by tracing his thick fingertips along the delicate, thin shoulder strap of the silken nightgown.
"I won't try and go anywhere," Lena muttered in a rush and tried to roll away from Bane onto her good shoulder. He tugged at the flimsy strip of fabric once before lifting his hand and allowing her to turn onto her side.
Lena was surprised how fast sleep claimed her from the conscious world despite sharing a bed with a man who could take everything from her before ending her life, poaching her remains for any value and scraping her bones clean like a carrion eater.
The ship gained speed as Lena abandoned herself to sleep, not knowing if she'd ever awaken or if she'd die at sea.