Bruce Wayne sat on the bench that doubled as his bed at night and watch the guard watch him inside the tiny cell. From his count he must have had been stuck in the cell for over a week. When He first woke up he had been alone and then hours later this same guard walked in and brought him two sunny side up eggs, a side of hash, coffee (very dark with 3 sugars) orange juice and yogurt. From the meal he could surmise two things: #1 it was morning and #2 whoever was holding him had impeccable taste. He counted the amount of breakfast that he had received, which totaled 10, so he had been there for at least ten days; but, on top of that he wasn't sure how many days he was knocked out for. There was a hamper in the cell and when he woke up the first time there were two shirts and a pair of pants in it, along with the outfit he was wearing at the bank, this implied that he had been dressed (which he couldn't recall) and that implied he was knocked out for over a day. There wasn't any other way to tell how many days had gone by, no windows and the guard never left while Bruce was awake and when Bruce woke up again the guard was already there with some kind of meal. Aside being held against his will Bruce was being treated very well, in fact, the only thing missing from being at home was the dry banter he had with Alfred from time to time. It was clear; however, that something not as friendly was afoot. Bruce was completely unsure as to why he had been taken. There was the obvious factor; the fact that he was rich and successful was obviously a reason for any ill-willing situations coming against him; but, if he was correct about the time he had been missing then it seemed odd that no connection had been made from Bruce to the outside world. Alfred would deal with those issues; no money could be transfer from Wayne enterprises to any other entity without Bruce's permission and in the case of a ransom of Bruce Alfred served as a mouthpiece. Alfred had a list of demands that had to be met before relinquishing the transferring of monies to actual people in the cooperation. One of the demands was that Bruce have contact with the outside world; anything to show that he was still living just for the sake of knowing; and Bruce had not established that, so in his estimation he was not being held for ransom.
Then why was he being held, Bruce was admittedly in a fog since his kidnapping, his thinking had become erratic and unclear. Bruce noted that he also might be drugged; the effects could either be wearing off or just taking effect. Either way Bruce wasn't sure of where he was, who was holding him or why he was being held. So in all totality Bruce really knew nothing.
The guard looked back over his shoulder to see Bruce still sitting there doing nothing but looking back at the guard. Bruce did know something; whoever he was dealing with was professional. The give-away was from the prison like bars that kept Bruce captive. They were wide apart; but, not enough for Bruce to fit his body through. It was a psychological trick that the Chinese used to use to send their captives into dismay. They'd struggle to get out of the bars; but, would not fit, then they'd convince themselves that the bars weren't the problem and they'd begin to starve themselves t become thinner; but, to no avail and then, in their despair the captive would be more likely to reveal secrets and other things of the like. Since Bruce knew this 'trick' he didn't bother to even consider escape as of now. There was no way. As far as he knew there were a thousand other guards like the one watching him just beyond the bend.
For no particular reason Bruce decided to stand up, which only prompted the guard to lazily look over his shoulder. For the first time in, what seemed like, a while Bruce felt rested and limber. He touched his toes, stretched and bent over backwards a little. When he came back up from the last stretch a different man had just come around the bend. Only once before had Bruce seen this man and that was in a sleep like trance.
"Good morning Mr. Wayne…" The man said; Bruce nodded and took notice at the fact that the man mentioned it was morning. "…feeling better?" The man asked.
"Yes, considerably." Bruce answered cautiously; there was something, suddenly, uneven about this situation. Suddenly Bruce felt as if he was at a great disadvantage.
"I know you've been going over in your mind as to why you're here…" The man said as he leaned on the bars to talk to Bruce. "…I just want to assure you that none of us here have any interest in any form of harm coming to you." The man said with an overwhelming amount of sincerity in his voice.
"That's comforting…" Bruce replied. "…I wish I knew why I was being held." Bruce added.
"I know you do; but, really don't wish to explain the entire process to you…" The man said very quickly. "..I will; however, tell you that Gotham is in for the change it so desperately needs." The man lightly explained.
"I'm not sure if I should be worried or excited." Bruce answered. The man smiled.
"Feel both Mr. Wayne…" The man started. "…Change is a very unnerving thing and not everyone is able to deal with it. There will, most certainly, be a good amount of Gothamnites who will not able to handle the change; but, the change will help the city immensely in the long haul." The man said without so much as a thought.
"You seemed to have that speech memorized…" Bruce replied.
"Well Mr. Wayne I'm a man who chooses his words very carefully…" The man looked at his watch; Bruce did so as well. "…Well Mr. Wayne I wish I could stay here and chat with you; but, today is going to be an eventful day." The man smiled and turned on his heel to the guard.
Bruce now knew what time it was. The man's watch read 1:30 and from what the man said it had to be morning. This man claimed to choose his words carefully and Bruce believed him one hundred percent. Bruce leaned against the wall near the bars trying to seem as if he had lost interest in the man; but, instead he listened closely to what the man was saying to the guard.
"Make sure Dent shows up today…" the man started; briefly he looked at Bruce. "…don't talk, touch or even approach him until I return-" Another man slowly came halfway around the bend. Bruce couldn't see the man's face at all; but, from the build he could tell that it was a rather muscular man. This man triggered something in Bruce that made him worry. The polite man who had just finished speaking with Bruce turned to the new man. "…did you get the key?" He asked. The light sound of keys jingling against one another followed shortly after. "…from what the commissioner said the Bat Signal shouldn't be hard to get to with these."
From there Bruce's mind began to whirl; he had to have been drugged, he couldn't focus. There were enough 'key words' in there to get Bruce riled up. "Dent", "Bat Signal". Something was about to go down and Bruce needed to had to do something about it. Not long after the two men were gone and the guard was standing alone. Bruce began to pace in the cell, there had to be something he could do. All he had to do was think and get out of the fog that his brain was stuck in. As he paced his shoe kicked against something solid on the ground, Bruce looked down and saw the piece of glass.
Seeing the glass started to being things back to Bruce. He had been drugged, rather sedated. When he had come to the first time he had began to hyperventilate the calm, friendly man suggested that Bruce rest and he was given a sedative, a powerful one, to ease his body. Within seconds of consuming it Bruce remembered falling over. The glass he was drinking out of must have broken. That's where this small piece must have come from. Bruce raised his hand and rubbed the back of his neck, he used this obstruction of his face to look at the guard to see if he was watching; but he wasn't. Bruce stretched down to his toes and secretly picked up the glass. Bruce then went back to the small bench/bed and laid down. With the glass in his left hand Bruce secretly placed the glass on his right arm and in a quick motion cut himself. Bruce cringed briefly and then laid silent for a moment.
"God damn it…!" Bruce exclaimed; the guard turned around as Bruce jumped up. "..oh crap…damn!" Bruce continued.
"What's wrong?" The guard asked without moving. Bruce walked over to the bars.
"There was a piece of glass over here and I must have cut myself on it…" Bruce explained. "…pretty nasty." He added for effect. The Guard's face showed skepticism; but, Bruce's bloody arm was undeniable. It was clear the guard was hearing the man's voice directing him not to even have contact with Bruce so Bruce had to do something. He took his other hand and pushed the cut as if to see how deep it was. "…damn it!" Bruce yelled; The guard could see the agony in Bruce and began to come over. When the guard was close enough Bruce stuck his arm out the bars for him to see.
"That's bad." The guard commented.
"Yeah, can I get a towel or something?" Bruce asked; the guard looked at the cut and even touched Bruce's arm for a moment.
"Yes, let me get one." The guard turned his back to Bruce.
That was what Bruce was waiting for, the instant the guard's back was gone Bruce's good arm came around the guard's neck and pulled it hard against the bars. The guard struggled viciously, more so than Bruce anticipated and the light headed bliss inside his head was not helping. Bruce; however, did not let go; the guard pushed like a wild animal against Bruce's arm; but, Bruce locked his hands together trying to ensure that the man wouldn't escape. Despite Bruce's grip the guard's strength was starting to win over Bruce's own. Bruce knew that if the guard got away that there would be no other chance. Bruce tried to think of something else to do; but, his mind was scattered, in a million other places. Something snapped suddenly in Bruce's mind and his body followed in action without a demand. Bruce's foot came crashing down on the opposite end of the guards kneecap, causing the guard to lose balance and slip to the ground. That was all Bruce needed to gain the advantage and with a flick of his arm Bruce heard the small click, not much different from the sound one would hear when a lock clicks into a door. The man's neck broke and his body went limp.
Despite his run-ins with murderers and criminals of the like this was the first time Bruce had actually killed someone. The shock of having done it sent him careening backwards onto the floor in a shock. His breathing quickened and his chest tightened, whatever they had done to him was causing him to have these attacks. Bruce knew he had to calm down, so he closed his eyes and counted backwards. After about seven minutes Bruce felt calm enough to stand, or at least crawl to the guard and rummage his body for the keys which he found after an even longer five minutes. Bruce stood and took a deep breathe and then released himself from the cell. Bruce dragged the guard into the cell and place his body on the bench/bed facing the wall away from the bars and then locked the cell behind him. Bruce wasn't sure if he was going to get out of wherever this place was; but, he had gotten out of the cell.
Now for the rest.