Chapter Twelve: Day Eight at Sea: Burial at Sea with Poseidon's Blessing
As Bane carried Lena to the plush mattress as gingerly as he could manage with the immense power in his very being, up on the bridge, Captain Aleksander Dymtrus paced between consulting a recent weather transmission and checking his phone for a missed call or any kind of communication from Miss Miranda Tate.
"Goddammit," Aleksander shouted and threw his phone to the floor. He didn't bother grabbing his thick coat as he stomped from the bridge in the direction of the adjoining containers that Miranda Tate had reserved. Instead of a deposit, she had watched him jerk off and spray her glorious tits with his sticky cum.
As Aleksander continued his furious, heavy marching towards the twin cargo containers, inside the metal oblong shells that were his destination, Bane settled Lena on the smooth surface of the linen, the thread count felt like liquid silk under her skin.
Bane smoothed his hands from the rounded cap of Lena's knees to slide down the outside of her lithe thighs before gripping her hips assertively and urging her to move towards the center of the bed. As Lena gasped at the roughness of his fingertips into her supple flesh, a large banging noise began rattling the container, the metal reverberating from the impact of each touch of Aleksander's fist.
Both hemisphere's in Bane's brain pulsed with sudden rage and dangerous energy as he straightened up and pulled the heavy duvet cover around Lena's bare skin before moving with purpose towards the cargo container's double doors.
Lena watched Bane's naked form retreat, the shadows kissing the curves of his scarred musculature and arterial intersections.
Bane unlatched the heavy padlock that kept the doors latched from the inside and cracked it open enough to see Aleksander's boyishly handsome face, creased with youthful, arrogant anger.
"Captain," Bane stated.
"I need you to get me in contact with Miss Tate now," Aleksander spit out in a rush, a young bull all hot and bothered to run down the matador, thinking he was directly responsible for the cinching up of his balls.
Bane narrowed his eyes as Aleksander tried to shove a satellite phone through the opening in the doors.
"I am sure I have no additional means of reaching Miss Tate than you do," Bane said easily.
"Then dial what you have," Aleksander said just shy of making it an order.
Bane smiled behind his mask; his irises sparkled with amusement as he watched Aleksander clutch tightly to his thin perception of power.
"Captain it would be better if you went back to keeping us on course," Bane said easily and went to close the metal door.
Aleksander slammed his open palm on the door and cursed under his breath as he waggled the phone towards the larger opening he had created, pausing briefly when he noticed Bane's scarred body and nudity, his cock hanging heavily between his musculature thighs.
"Look you masked freak, get Miranda on the phone now or you can go for a long swim."
Bane's scarred lips pulled into a huge smile behind his mask, a glee filled grin, the scar tissue pulling with the infrequent movement.
"By all means, please enter captain," Bane murmured, feigning complete docile acquiescence as he held open the door for Aleksander to cross the metal rod threshold.
Aleksander smirked and puffed out his chest with peacock pride as he stepped inside, his eyes falling to Lena huddled under the expensive bed linen before he turned to address Bane.
"Dial," Aleksander stated as he handed the phone to Bane and walked over to pluck a bottle of expensive vodka from the marble counter and drank directly from the bottle.
Aleksander nearly choked on about three-thousand dollars-worth of the limited-edition liquor when he heard the sharp, plastic crack of Bane destroying his satellite phone.
"What?" Aleksander sputtered as he watched a completely naked Bane drop the pieces of the phone to the floor, sprinkling the technological eucharist to the Persian rug under foot.
Aleksander had time to put his pale hands in front of his face, his manicured nails and clean cuticles shielded most of the initial spray of blood as Bane charged him and buried a wickedly sharp blade in his belly, sliding through his anterior abdominal muscles, nicking his ribs, and perforating the intercostals.
Aleksander gasped as Bane shoved the blade repeatedly into his midsection, deeper each time through the viscera, fucking him bloodless with the steel blade. The curved metal was a cock that never grew soft as it punched into his ribs and shredded them until they looked like the red cabbage slivers in coleslaw.
Aleksander never had a chance; the little boy was a turtle on its back as the fanged predator approached while the carrion-eater circled overhead. Bane was the approaching wolf, nuzzling his belly with the blade, hungry enough to finish his undigested meal while he was still warm.
As Aleksander died by exsanguination, Lena watched from her lush linen nest as Bane buried the curved knife to its gilded hilt. "Isn't that enough?" she felt escape from between her lips.
Bane paused and looked over at Lena, her eyes wide, unblinking with fear. He glanced back at Aleksander's just about lifeless face before giving Lena a curt, wordless nod and letting the captain fall to the container floor.
Lena watched as Bane walked with urgency to ensure the padlock was firmly back in place before marching back towards Lena, speaking with growing musical frenzy.
"His absence will be noticed, there is not much time for me to get to the bridge," Bane murmured as he paused at the side of the bed and yanked the linen to a silken and satin pile on the floor.
Lena froze as Bane pulled her in a close to rough manner towards him, he remained standing as he pushed her thighs apart, making blood rush to her face as his eyes moved along her delicate folds and shell-pink lips surrounding her wet center. "There isn't much time for this to be comfortable for you," Bane murmured in a melodical tone that held the faint touch of regret as he pressed one hand between her breasts, his palm over her sternum, keeping her pinned to the soft mattress as he impaled her wetness with his impossible hardness.
Lena cried out as Bane gripped her breast with his blood-stained hand, squeezing and teasing her nipple until it was stiff under his touch.
Bane spoke in musical grunts in between stabbing her with his heavy rigidity. "This ship is now mine," he groaned and increased his pace until he was rhythmic in his frantic pounding as he added just before he filled her with his hot, sticky seed. "By the Laws of the Sea and Poseidon, you're my wife."
Bane pulled his still thickened cock from her tight center, a trail of glistening seed trailing after the plump sensitive head.
"I'm sorry I can't stay," he rasped melodically, giving her no time to speak as he quickly dressed and searched every inch of Aleksander's warm corpse. After he had poached everything useful, he hoisted the limp body over a broad shoulder and after unlocking the padlock again, turned to face Lena.
"Lock this after I leave, you will be safe here but if you are threatened, your service pistol is in the bottom drawer of the bureau in the closet."
"You trust me with that?" Lena asked with surprise.
"I do, I trust you completely," Bane said, his voice a raw, haunting melody.
Lena watched him go and found the discarded silk robe haphazardly mixed with the linen on the floor and after slipping into it, secured the padlock back into place.
On the other side of the cargo container doors, Bane heard the lock click before marching to the edge of the deck with Aleksander's flaccid corpse and tossed him unceremoniously to land with a spectacular splash in the Atlantic Ocean.
As Bane went to secure the ship, rousing a group of men that were disgruntled and indentured. Bane spoke to them in the language of the slaves and soon had them close to his breast, nourishing them on hope, down in the adjoining containers, Lena felt a twinge of pain on her breast and opened her robe to find his bloody fingerprints accompanying grape-sized bruises from his rough handling.
She felt tears sting her eyes as she looked down at the stains made from the dead man's blood and yanked off the robe to land on the floor. Lena fought back tears for all the lives lost and replayed her last day of normalcy before Gotham City was burned to the ground.
As she turned on the water and slipped into the small shower and began scrubbing her breasts clean until the flesh squeaked, she remembered waking up in her studio apartment and making a quick breakfast before reporting to one of the field officers with the city under martial law and the threat of the masked terrorist.
Lena rinsed the floral shampoo from her long tresses as the road to her memory disappeared the moment she had met Bane's eyes.
As Bane led a group of men to rise up and hijack the ship, men bent the knee to the masked man with the blood-soaked hand, thicker bits of tissue under his blunt fingernails, Lena finished her shower and found the most modest gown and clean robe that she belted loosely at the waist.
As Bane secured the bridge and navigation technician, Lena held her breath as she tugged open the bottom bureau drawer and found her department issued firearm staring up at her. She reached for the gun and paused with her fingertips over the cool titanium. "Is this who you are now?" Lena asked the empty air.
As she remained squatted in front of the drawer, Bane made his way back to the adjoining containers. He knocked and called to her through the door.
Lena looked over at the locked doors before slamming the drawer closed and crossing the container to fumble with the lock and allow Bane to enter.
Bane's eyes drank her in, her freshly washed face and reddened eyes from her recent crying as Lena pulled open the door further and let him brush past her, bringing the smell of the briny, salt air in his wake.
Bane reached out his blood-stained for her chin, "are you unwell?"
"I just wanted to know who the singer was in the giraffe costume," Lena mumbled before her words were broken with a sob.
Confusion flooded Bane and he watched with further bewilderment as Lena tried to escape to the small bathroom, not able to pivot away from him with any winged swiftness.
Bane caught her forearm and squeezed the supple flesh through the silken robe, "talk to me," he demanded, failing miserably at any attempt to soften his words.
"Talk to me," he ordered in a danger-laced musical tone.
Lena allowed Bane to lead her to the smooth surface of the bed linen and urge her to sit, his recently formed army of liberated men instilled with zealous fervor to serve a man that was scarred and broken at one point in his life secured the entirety of the ship, killing those that resisted and exalting the remaining.
As the cargo ship continued its comfortable pace towards the ports in the Ukraine, Lena found herself telling Bane of the people she lost when he destroyed her city and rearranged her life and very existence.
Bane squatted in front of her and remained that way despite the ache in his joints from supporting his bulk as Lena told him about whom he had stolen from her.
"My parents didn't suffer, only their ashes got cremated again," she remarked dryly and wiped at her nose with the luxurious sleeve of the robe as she thought of her cousin.
"Last weekend I was at my cousin Layla's baby shower, she looked about ready to pop," Lena murmured as she met Bane's eyes, "she was admitted to Gotham General the day you killed her."
Bane shifted and reached up his blood-stained hand to cup her jaw, "tell me of everyone I took from you."
Lena started speaking slowly but eventually her voice filled with volume as she told Bane about the barista who knew when she was feeling bloated or having a bad day when she ordered a full-fat mocha and asked for whipped cream.
Bane watched fat, clear tears roll down her flushed cheeks as he danced his blood-stained hand down the front of her body and teased the belt of her loosely knotted robe as Lena told him about her next-door neighbor with the loud Macaw, the upstairs neighbor who liked to listen to his music like he was playing for an amphitheater and the landlord who frequently lost her rent checks from his apartment to the bank.
Lena trailed off into silence as she sniffed hard, distracted by Bane's large hands as they settled over the curve of her knees.
"And this singing giraffe?" Bane tried to ask without melodical amusement shrouding his syllables.
Lena covered an embarrassed laugh. "I watched this show with a co-worker about celebrities singing while costumed, it was just mindless entertainment, it's not important."
"Everything about you is important," Bane stated gravely as he kneaded his hands up and down the outside of her silken robe draped thighs. "Everything," he murmured as he buried his masked face against the top of her thighs.