"Tell not me. When the the but is out we will drink water."
The drunken trio were back. The Butler—Stephano, he recalled,-waved off Caliban's explanations of where to find water.
"They say there are but three upon this Isle; we are three of them. If the other two be brained like us: The state totters."
Bane knew the Jester referred to the perspective coup, but he could not help but think that is the Island were "brained" like those three it would have the biggest hangover known to man.
"As I told you before: I am subject to a tyrant, a sorcerer, that by his cunning hath cheated me of the Island."
Caliban may have believed himself the rightful owner of the Island, but in Bane's experience things were rarely clean cut. How had Sycorax come to power? Who was there before her? Had she traded beads for the land of a future city of millions? Or had she found that rarest of rarities: a truly uninhabited place? The intricacies of succession always left someone unsatisfied. Someone looking for revenge.
The League was in shambles after Ra's' death. Ra's had planned for Wayne to succeed him
Right up until Bruce burned down the temple. Some said right up until Ra's' death. In Bane's opinion, Talia was the clear choice. But she had not spoken to nor seen her father for many years at that point. And, if they were considering outcasts and traitors, why not add Bane himself to the short list? After a year of violent bickering, the majority voice had fallen on Talia. As was right.
Ariel appeared again—invisible as usual.
"Thou liest." The spirit mimicked Trinculo's voice as he flung the wild accusation. Predictably, Caliban and Stephano turned on the innocent Jester whose cried of 'not guilty' fell on deaf ears.
"Thou liest, thou jesting monkey thou: I would my valiant master would destroy thee. I do not lie."
"Trinculo, if thou trouble him in's tale, by this hand, I will supplant some of your teeth."
"Why, I said nothing." Trinculo whined.
"I say by sorcery he got this Isle from me, he got it. If thy greatness will revenge it on him (for I know thou dare'st) but this thing dare not.
Caliban knelt before Stephano. The actor crouched most of the time, but his lowered head and outstretched arms were unmistakable. "Help me, and I will trade one master for another." It did not always work out as one hoped."
Bane heard of the infighting after the fact. After it was al over and Talia sought him out. He had been minding his own business, or rather fixating on his business and ignoring what little news of the League of Shadows came his way. Freelance work was a diversion that suited him well. Job after job garnered recognition, a reputation for excellence, and an impressive network of resources. Resources that prove useful in the current endeavor.
He did not know it at the time. Not until she showed up out of the blue. He remembered knowing it was Talia, even before he saw her face. It wasn't a huge leap of logic. Very few people had a reason to be waiting in the particular corner of the cave he squatted in at that point of the past. As Barsad never tired of pointing out, it was easy enough to find a hotel, or house, or anything, really, in the cities the frequented. But he still preferred the shadows. Places where he would not be seen.
But there she was.
"Why, what did I? I did nothing."
Ariel was at it again. The Fool backed into a corner, protesting his innocence all the while. The scene would have been funnier in the Gotham of old. Given the circumstances. Given the surroundings, it sang as an echo of Johnathan Crane's court room,
Be he had heard it in many other places from many other people throughout his life. 'Why me? I did nothing.' No one ever did anything, it seemed. Blame it on chance or fate. Personally, he blamed it on inattention. People did not full realize where their actions were taking them until they were already there. How else had he gotten here? "Why, as I told thee, 'tis a custom with him in the afternoon to sleep: there thou may'est brain him."
The plot returned.
"Remember first to possess his books; for without them he is but a sot, as I am."
It was a good plan. Everyone was human. One just had to find the weakness. Even Bane. He silently counted his blessings that these actors were pointing to the wrong weaknesses.
"—Nor hath not one spirit to command. They all do hate him as rootedly as I do."
They follow him unquestioning. If he said die, they died. But Barsad still kept cash and a packed bag in the back of the closet, and a plane squirreled away in a disused hangar on the north end of Gotham. 'In case you change your mind.' He said. Bane wouldn't.
"And that most deeply to consider is the beauty of his daughter."
This had to stop. This play had no right to bring up all… this.
"Be not afeard, the Isle, is full of noises, sounds, and sweet airs, that give delight and hurt not."
It did it again. Ariel plucked out a tune on his guitar. Caliban, Staphano, and Trinculo were frozen, ears pricked up to catch the music. And Bane found himself, once more, hanging on their words.
"And then, in dreaming, the clouds methought the clouds would open an show riches ready to drop upon me; that when I waked I cried to dream again."
Dreams. They were a wonderful source of hope. Things of shelter. In The Pit, Bane would dream that the distant ring of sunlight came crashing down upon him. As he would open his eyes to see the surface of the Earth—so distance—he would wake. Dreams were wonderful sources of hope, but hope was not a wonderful thing. Now he dreamed of other things.
As the actors spoke and listened and plotted he wondered: what kind of city would produce these people. They knew nothing of the things the spoke, and yet every word felt like truth. They felt right. Maybe he should have seen Gotham—really seen it—before all this began.
"Lead, monster. We'll follow."
Of course they would. To the very end.
The characters in this story belong to Christopher Nolan and no profit is made on their use herein.
All quotes from the Tempest are taken from Internet Shakespeare Editions, First Folio Facsimiles. The author has modernized the spelling, punctuation, and formatting.