IV.

Chains Are Made

Hands. Warm hands. Normal, peach-coloured hands. Not like mine. No, not like mine. My hands are stained with a million snowflakes, all pressed into my palms, so many and so cold it is as if I am holding a sizzling beacon, blinding-white and scorching to the touch. My palms itch and flame with the effort of carrying the cold. Don't look back, don't turn around and stare into the darkness of the alleyway, the inky, frozen nothingness, and don't think about the consequences of wishing for a brighter place to fall down. The pain that comes from wishing is born from people's desire to see a dynamic improvement and an instantaneous result. So what more could I wish for?

Barely conscious. Dragged up from her belly, Lily's eyes flicked up to see a huge man in a sheepskin coat. It looked warm. With a shake of her head, Lily sucked in a breath and tried to focus on this giant who had her in a warm grip; under her matchstick legs, just at the joints his fingers cradled and on her back a big palm covering the small expanse, the warmth seeping through her coat-jacket.

Like a young fox snuggling at their mother's fluffy, warm bellies, Lily curled and writhed comfortably in these foreign arms and hoped they would drop her soon, so she could fall. She so yearned to let go. For someone to just let her go. Darkness came then, like a curtain being drawn, black took over.

"Where am I?"

Lily groaned generically as she opened her eyes and blinked up at a high ceiling. A very high ceiling. Her voice was naught but a gritty rasp. She cleared her throat and began to cough, her body racked again in the throes of her sickness.

"Below anything that can trample you,"

"Huh?" She grunted and sat up, her coat-jacket askew as ever.

Her eyes fell on a man, a very large man. A leviathan actually. Lily swallowed a lump and felt her stomach drop. Her head felt light and she could feel her nose growing red as the big man got to his feet and turned to face her. Lily sighed, her eyes wide staring directly at his face; obscuring his nose and mouth was a metal mask. Rivets and knobs all encroached inwards like the mouth of some vicious creature. There was no hair on his head, shaved she guessed, so it didn't interfere with the mask he wore. Lily backed away fearfully as he strode over, languidly and smoothly, an impressive show of grace considering his vast size.

"You were trodden, weren't you? What were you doing in that alleyway?"

He asked, his voice a deep, metallic rumble that sounded both learned and brutal. His appearance greatly misguided the listener who heard that voice. Biting back a cough, Lily watched as he knelt beside what she was lying on – which appeared to be five or so mattresses all piled up on top of each other that barely came up to his waist while kneeling.

"What was I...doing in the alleyway?"

She repeated through cold lips. He didn't answer her, but merely looked at her with his dark eyes. A slit in one eyebrow which was cocked in waiting for her explanation. She gave him her impudent little shrug and replied dimly,

"Looking for a place to sleep...That's what I was doing."

"Searching for a place to rest your head?"

Lily bobbed her head as he spoke, the only visual evidence of him even using his voice was the bulging of veins in his neck and the jump of his throat. His eyes slid away and he got up glibly, ignoring her while she hauled herself off the mattresses and pulled her jacket on properly.

"Well," She began feebly, coughing a little, "Thanks, but I have to go..."

"Do you?" He countered quickly and idly, looking over at her.

Lily felt herself tense and backed away, her knees quaking with exhaustion. He didn't stop her retreat, neither did he infringe on her – probably because he could pick Lily up and shake her like a terrier shakes a rat if he really wanted to. She felt her butt connect with something – a table. Keeping her eyes locked to the man who was simply watching her as she made her retreat, he kept an eye on her fingers as they slid along the chest of the table until her swollen fingers felt a heavy object, feeling it Lily wrapped her sluggish fingers around the handle of what she believed was a hammer.

The man observed her as if he knew exactly what she would do, back up and grasp for the hammer.

"Think about your choices."

He counselled with a carelessness that Lily had never seen in anyone else before. He had taken the liberty of picking her up out of the cold but he seemed completely at ease with breaking her neck now should she disobey that little command. Her fingers tightened around the handle and she scowled at the masked man,

"Do you want to be considered?"

That stopped her retreat a little and she lessened her grip on the hammer. He was looking directly at her now, his dark eyes the only thing that could draw anyone into that face. He waved his hand slowly and deliberately before he took a practiced step towards her, not too fast but Lily didn't like the rate at which he was closing the distance between them. Her hand tightened and he stopped,

"Considered for what?" She asked quietly, her eyes red-rimmed in this half-light.

"For Gotham's liberation. You are such a one who has felt the heel of those many privileged,"

He was in front of her now, still not too close and Lily peered up at him. His height as well as his bulk was imposing; the sheer brute strength of a bull but the cunning mind of a crow lurked behind the snarling, metallic chops of that mask. Lily found herself glaring up at him,

"Liberation? You're going to liberate Gotham? People have tried, look where that got 'em."

"Got who?"

Lily shrugged and averted her gaze before flicking her eyes back up,

"The Waynes, Harvey Dent...They're all dead and they tried to help Gotham."

His face didn't change, not one thing about it moved. Lily felt her eyes watering at holding back another cough but remained vigilant as the man seemed to weigh her up,

"Yes, those who have died created the foundation for liberation,"

He conceded with a small nod. Nonchalantly placing a hand on her shoulder, Lily swung the hammer up at his head with a yelp and gasped as he gripped the tool mid-swing. His arms were barely pulsating, Lily's attack was so weak and feeble, but the tendons in his wrist stuck out and he took Lily off her feet as she clutched the hammer uncompromisingly. He leaned in closer to her hanging frame and said darkly,

"But the decadent mob of Gotham shall feel the wrath of the deprived masses below. I will unchain the dogs and allow them to gnaw at the rotted flesh of the elite and the stamped on will be the ones who stomp; their boots will come down profoundly on them until they too slump in cold dark places."

"Y-you're going to do this?"

Lily squeaked and let go of the hammer. Fluttering back down with barely a thump, the man watched her descent and held the hammer out between them. He stooped to be eye-level with her, the hammer between his mask and her face, Lily's dark eyes flashed as the hammer glinted wickedly amid them. His hand looked strong enough to leave dents in the handle,

"I will do this, but I need these."

"'These'?" Lily whispered a frown quirking her brow.

"Hammers." He said, emphasising what he said by leaning closer,

"Hammers to knock in the nails of the corrupted."

Lily gulped down and felt herself unable to contain her cough anymore. She pushed past the man and coughed into her sleeve, her back to him. He stood quietly while she spluttered. When finally it abated she stood upright and felt her back protest; she was so engrossed in her agony she didn't even sense the man come up behind her. She tensed again as she felt the brush of his coat at her fingertips and took a breath as he pinned her to his body with the hammer's handle pressed up against her exposed neck.

"Think about your choices," That metallic voice said again and Lily's eyes slid to the side.

Slightly turning her head, she eyed the hammer the fist that wielded it; it was almost symbolic; the sight of his strong fist encasing the hammer as they hovered over her vulnerable collar bone. Her breath hitched as he said in a dangerous echoing tone,

"You are a link in a chain now, I can't let you leave here alive. But I can give you a purpose."

She closed her eyes at that last word. Something in the way he said that to her sounded like she was making a deal with the devil; an unbreakable pact, held together by an equally as unbreakable chain. Welded by flame and left to set in the frostbitten alleyways, dangerous, evil, dark.

"Should I think about the consequences?" She uttered,

"Let me think about them. What is your name?"

"Lillian...Lily." Her voice was barely above a whisper.

"Tragic." Came his strange voice above her head.

"Why...?"

"Demon of the night – Lily. Tragic for you; auspicious for our cause."

She felt her skin prickle and she opened her eyes again. Blinking she looked up, her chin bared in defiance even if he couldn't see it,

"What's yours then?"

There was a pause and Lily felt him take a breath behind her before replying clearly through the barred and twisted confines of his mask,

"Bane."

Well so then, they were both doomed with tragic names despite the intimacy, it was a cold and calculating parallel that made Lily feel like she was in an airless vent; totally confined, completely and utterly buried under the weight of something that wasn't even there.