Disclaimer: As always I own nothing but the original characters and the situations all characters get in.

Come After Us

Studying his throat in the mirror Blake figured he had the Venom still in his system to thank for the fact that the bruising looked days old instead of recent. It hurt a little to swallow, and talking wasn't pleasant either when he tried it, but at least he wouldn't have to carry around a pen and paper to talk to anyone. If he felt like talking to someone, Blake mentally added, which wasn't likely. What he wanted to do was fine out who the real evil villain in all this was and then kick her ass from here back to the nearest high security prison still working. He was willing to hit a girl at the moment, especially knowing that on top of destroying his city this bitch Bane answered too didn't even have the guts to take responsibility for her actions.

The words that came to mind at the thought of her would have earned him a mouthful of soap if Father Reilly knew he was thinking them.

Amused by the thought Blake smiled, though not for long when he imagined what kind of a Christmas the kids at the home were going to have this year. Family holidays were hard enough but this- and if it was their last one…

Cursing the fact that he and Bane were currently on such bad terms, and he pretty sure it would take a minor miracle to get back in the man's good graces before Christmas, Bane wondered if Barsad had enough authority to arrange for some of the food in the house to go to the kids. It wouldn't hurt to ask, especially if he bribed the man with more cookies.

Barsad had a sweet tooth and he was more than devious enough to use it against him.

A man on a mission now Blake left the bathroom and finished dressing, heading downstairs once that was completed. No one was around, which was a little unnerving, but it wasn't like he wanted to deal with his crazy captors before he was fully awake anyway. No one was in the kitchen when he got there, though a great many of his cookies had gone missing during the night. It was nice to know they were being enjoyed, even if the people eating them weren't the ones he wanted to feed. In short order the detective whipped up some hot oatmeal, not because he liked the stuff but because he figured it would be just the thing for his throat. And if it wasn't…well it was supposed to be good for him, though he'd never really thought it could be worth it health wise.

Resigned to his fate Blake sat down to eat the mushy goop, halfway through the bowl when he sensed that he was no longer alone, lifting his head up to meet Barsad's gaze. "Hey."

Walking over the mercenary looked over the bruising thoroughly before speaking. "You are to spend the morning in the library reading one of the five books he's set out for you. In the afternoon you are to be driven around the city to see what has become of it in your absence. I suggest you be on your best behavior for the car ride…if you wish to continue living. Any questions?"

"Yes. If I swear on my mother's soul to behave would you be willing to see that the extra food around here, or even cookies that I can make later, go to St. Swithins Boys' Home before Christmas? There's cookies in it for you too."

Barasad considered the request and could see no harm in it, especially given the intended recipients, and stated that he would speak to Bane about it. That was all he would do.

"Fair enough." Stirring his spoon through what was left of his oatmeal Blake asked if the man wanted him to throw together some breakfast for him too. He did need the man's cooperation and goodwill after all.

"No."

Accepting that answer Blake asked if Bane was around, thinking that he could see which of the books left for him appealed to the man the most. He had some kissing up to do to help the kids.

"No."

And obviously not wanting to talk the mercenary headed out again, leaving Blake to finish his breakfast as quickly as possible so that he could head to the library to get started on his assignment. And hey, he was going for a car ride later. That was something to look forward to too.

Maybe.

)

Not being a fool Bane knew that Talia had put off meeting with him as a punishment for countering her order. Her excuse that she couldn't get away without drawing suspicions was a lie and he thought she knew him well enough to know that he wouldn't buy that for a moment. When she wanted something she found a way to get it. So it had been meant as a punishment, but it hadn't felt like one. In fact, so consumed was he with thoughts of Blake that he had at times forgotten all about her, which had never happened before. Always his world had revolved around her and he didn't like the change.

Didn't like how the world looked when seen through his pet's eyes.

Watching her walk into the room he immediately went to her, ingrained habits coming into play as he let her hug him, hugging her back before allowing her to part them.

"You are angry with me, My Friend."

"Yes."

The surprise on her face would have been comical if she'd been someone else.

"The drug was not to be used again. It was to be destroyed."

Recovering quickly, she had always thought fast on her feet, Talia reached up to place her hands on his cheeks, her tone gentle and soothing as she assured him that it had never had been her or her father's intention to use the drug as it had been used on him. They'd merely been experimenting with it all these years in the hopes of breaking the process down in its entirety to see if it could be used to help him and others, not cause them pain. Didn't he remember that she'd been with him, every minute that she could, once he'd been taken from The Pit? How she'd been in agony right along with him while he'd detoxed his body of Venom once he'd been strong enough to do so?

Listening to her Bane could feel himself being pulled into her gravitational pull, a sense of calm and rightness washing over him as her words reassured him. And yet…and yet there was a part of him that refused to come, to heed her call. A part that said that it was far better to be drawn to his detective's words than Talia's, that even though they both had agendas and sought to make him see things their way…she demanded mindless obedience, while Blake challenged him always to think.

It was better to think, wasn't it, than blindly obey even when you would trust the person with your life?

"Bane, are you listening to me?"

"Yes." Putting his much larger hands over hers Bane met her gaze squarely, sure of one thing. "I wish you to end all experiments. No good will ever come of Venom. Your word, Talia."

When she began to argue Bane simply held her gaze, watching it slowly dawn on her that this was not something she could talk him out of. He was dead serious about this and there would be no arguing or debating of any kind. He was telling her what to do and it had nothing to do with keeping her safe or advising her about how to best go about getting what she wanted. No, he was giving her an order that did not benefit her in any way.

The way she said his name, so baffled and almost childish, felt like the tip of a blade poking here and there, seeking where best to enter in retribution for speaking to her this way. But in this he would not be moved and he simply said her name in turn. Affectionately yes, but his eyes remained steady and resolute.

"You have my word." She said finally, pulling her hands out from under his. "That you need it…hurts me very much."

"I am sorry for that."

Wrapping her arms as far around his waist as she could Talia set her head on his shoulder, telling him that she was nervous over how smoothly everything was going, and the painfully grief of knowing how proud her father would be of both of them for accomplishing this task for him. She so desperately wanted to do him proud.

"The city is ours." Bane reminded her softly. "We will not fail."

"We'll destroy this city together, won't we, My Friend."

"Have I ever failed you?"

"No. Never."

And she would make very, very sure that that never happened.

)

Sitting between a minor mountain and the guy who'd been introduced to him as Phillipe, Blake tried to look cool and calm as he pondered what fate awaited him. He was pretty sure that Bane had reserved the right to kill him, but there were worse fates that could befall him than a broken neck and they all knew it. That he was suddenly being taken on a tour of his city, ostentatiously to rub it in his face that he wasn't there protecting it anymore, did not feel right after the conversation he'd had with Bane the night before. Initially, at breakfast, he hadn't question Barsad's orders, but now that he was surrounded by bad guys he didn't know who were armed and didn't like cops…he was thinking he should have stayed in his room all day instead.

Mentally praying that none of the four other men in the huge sport utility vehicle were trigger happy and looking to kill him, Blake stayed as quiet as possible as they seemed to wander aimless through the streets. So far the other three had ignore him, he didn't even know their names, and Phillipe only issued orders when necessary. They all looked around his age or younger too, so apparently he wasn't considered enough of a threat to require real, seasoned guards. Mature or not the four had him surrounded, Blake noted, on alert but not paying him all that much attention. They seemed pretty sure he wouldn't get away from them as they gave him a driving tour through the streets of his city, something he really hoped to make them regret somehow.

His promise to behave until Boxing Day be damned. He wasn't at the house anymore.

Unfortunately he couldn't see a way to get the hell out of the vehicle without his new entourage. He was stuck in the back between two men, and earlier he'd pointed out that he would be able to see the ruins of his city a lot better if he was beside a window and had been ignored. They all knew that he knew how bad it was out there, he didn't need this little trip to shove it further down his throat.

It was depressing as hell to know that all he really could do was marvel over the fact that perhaps this dumb car ride was really his punishment for calling Bane a bomb the night before, his plans to decorate his tree once again on hold as they cruised through the nearly empty, snow covered streets. Naturally he'd already considered and braced himself for the real possibility that Bane was going to use this time to destroy everything Christmas related in the Parrish house to spite him, and if that happened…well that would suck but he'd get through it. He could still sing carols and tell himself the 'Christmas Carol' story and hopefully cook Christmas appropriate food.

At least that was the plan, if he was taken back to the house after this instead of being killed, gang raped, and or mutilated beyond recognition in the immediate future. That would definitely destroy his holiday mood in a very big way.

They'd been driving around for at least two hours when it happened, the vehicle halfway down a deserted street when the front windshield was suddenly covered with splashes of paint, the other windows getting similar treatment with Blake unable to see the perps as the car came to a screeching halt.

Then the howling started and he knew.

"Oh shit. The Timber Wolves."

Phillipe demanded to know what he was talking about, the rest of the car's occupants finally paying proper attention to him.

Talking fast and loud so that he could be heard over the gleeful howling, Blake explained that they were about to go up against a violent street gang who called themselves The Timber Wolves. They used and sold crystal meth, were extremely violent, and loved to stalk and play with their prey. Part of initiation was filing your teeth into fangs, and all members wore brass knuckles outfitted with spikes to give them claws. They might attack with blades or guns, but they always used their 'fangs' and 'claws' to maul their victims as a sick calling card.

Mixing in with the howls was the sound of things being thrown at the vehicle, then hands and 'claws' making contact along the sides as they were assaulted with the knowledge that they were not only surrounded, but if they tried to drive ahead the odds of them hitting a wall were high. And once the car was crashed they were sunk since the human wolves would undoubtedly follow.

"This is where you lot call for backup." Blake informed them in the voice he used when he'd gotten stuck talking to kindergarteners about not talking to strangers and looking both ways before you crossed the street.

"Fuck that." The minor mountain unlocked the door and pushed it open, Blake calling him a bunch of names as he dove across the seat, intending to close the door but not reaching it soon enough, a brass knuckled hand coming through the space to catch his outstretched arm, using it to yank him the rest of the way out so that he tumbled onto the ground in a heap.

Instinct had Blake him kicking out, his jaw dropping a little at the sound of bones breaking and the agonized scream that followed the attacker's collapse onto the ground too. In some part of his mind Blake knew he had Venom to thank for that, but for the time being he had other things to think about like staying alive.

The sound of gunfire had him scrambling to his feet, Blake barely managing to avoid the clawed punch to his head, bring his own fists into play with disturbing strength that had him second guessing himself when he realized that if his fist connected odds were someone's bones were going to break. It made him hesitate which was how he ended up back on the ground a couple minutes later with the taste of blood in his mouth and more than a couple very sore ribs.

Grabbing a chunk of wood that was lying nearby Blake spit blood out of his mouth and got back into the fray, using the piece of lumber like a bat and trying to rein in his strength so that he didn't kill anyone accidentally.

It was four of them against eight still standing after the gun play, their fifth man, the one who'd gotten out of the vehicle willingly, was dead in the snow, having bled out from a throat wound.

Or make that nine, the detective realized seconds later as a hand wrapped around his ankle, jerking hard on it so that he fell on his hands, Blake instinctively delivering a donkey kick with free leg that thankfully caught his would be attacker in the shoulder. Freed he rejoined the fight, Gotham's occupation having honed the street fighting skills he'd let go once he'd donned the uniform. Now he fought down and dirty, not giving a damn about how low he had to sink so long as he didn't kill the hyped up druggies who didn't have the sense to run away.

Blood and curses flew, Blake and Bane's men forming a square as they faced off against their respective opponents, trusting the others to watch their backs. Survival was the name of the game and unlike the gang member the four were controlled and keeping their heads as the fists flew.

Eventually there were only two left on the other side and they ran, Blake flinching when Phillipe retrieved a gun off the ground and put bullets into their fleeing backs, all of them watch the men drop to the ground turn more snow red.

Meeting the mercenary's gaze when it swung back to meet his, Blake didn't look away until the death moans of another man distracted him, had him turning his head to scan the multiple bodies around them as he looked for the source of it. There were at least thirty dead, no surprise since many people had started joining or forming gangs in the hopes of surviving since Bane had taken over. If the others hadn't fist relied on their guns to thin out the competition they'd have been screwed.

Walking from body to body, some with chests still moving though unconscious, Blake came to one whose chest jerked as it struggled to breath, the blood around the boy's torso too concentrated for any chance of survival. Kneeling down Blake took the gang members hand in his, watched the dark eyes latch onto his as the boy, no more that eighteen, tried to speak in halted Spanish, the words not nearly as understandable as his fear. He knew death was coming, and he was afraid.

His grip on the boy's hand firm Blake spoke softly in his high school level Spanish, struggling to translate what he remembered of the last rites Father Reilly had taught him for just such an occasion. He was probably buggering his pronunciation and phrasing beyond belief, but the eye contact and joined hands meant at least the boy knew he wasn't alone as death took him, and there was some easing of the fear in those big brown eyes.

Closing the boy's eyes when there was no more life in them Blake got to his feet and stood over him a moment in respectful silence before looking behind him at the other three men who stood there, silently watching him.

Walking over to stand in front of them Blake asked what they were going to do now.

)

Okay, today's reference is so obvious it's impossible to miss. Meanwhile, to catch up, Chapter 7's reference was Mrs. Potts and Chip, and Chapter 9 was the reference to a gun fanatic (Gaston) and a mob going after the perceived monster. Chapter 8 is super hard and I'm still hoping someone will find it without me telling. Eventually I'll tell you though, promise.