Part 10 (3): Where We End - Heart of the Reckoning

Here we are - the final segment of Part 10 and the bridge into the Dark Arc of B & R! Thanks for coming this far with me!

To those who reviewed the last chapter ...

Guest: I wonder, I wonder! :P

Anna10473: Thanks! :) I'm glad you're enjoying the read!

The gigantic, black gate that stands in front of us is the first obstacle we have ran into on my mad, unplanned visit to Arkham Asylum to see Bane. You know those haunted houses that always pop up around the city during October? The asylum looks and feels just like one of those, except made by somebody with a ton of money to waste.

Just looking at this place makes my stomach hurt. I can't stand the thought of him being locked up in a place where the city sends people they've deem rejects, people who are seen as unfit to live with the rest of the world's "shining citizens".

I hear a clicking noise come from beside me. I look over and see that Blake is unbuckling his seatbelt and getting out of the car.

"I'm going to get out and try talking with whoever's behind that security camera up there," he tells me.

He jogs over the gate and waves at the rotating camera that's perched at the top of the gate. I hear him saying something and a muffled, robotic voice responds from a loudspeaker that was built onto one of the brick pillars attached to the gate doors. Blake whips out his badge and shows it to the camera. A moment later, he's climbing back into the car.

"They're going to let us in," he tells me. True to their word, the gate slowly creaks open. Blake pulls the car through (without buckling his seatbelt, I might add). I give his unbuckled belt a wary look but I'm soon distracted by the moans. As we edge the car closer to the huge, gothic construction in the distance, I begin to hear the cries and pleas for mercy. Wails and horrifying, maddening screams. I shudder but keep a firm eye on the building. Bane's in there somewhere.

"I always hate coming to this place," Blake mutters. I look over at him but his eyes are fixed on the winding path in front of us.

"Do you think they're … hurting him?" I ask.

He clears his throat. "No, I'm sure he's fine."

Finally, we park the car next to a towering lamppost and climb out of the car. Lightning suddenly cracks through the sky above us, shattering the purple hues apart with a flash of white. A moment later, thunder causes the earth to tremble beneath our feet. The screams and groans coming from the asylum rise in volume.

Hum. Maybe I rushed into this.

We make our way into the castle-like compound together, side by side, matching each other's stride. Blake keeps his hand on my shoulder. I thought at first it was sweet, like he was supporting me. It didn't take me long to figure out that he was trying to keep me from rushing ahead of him.

I fold my arms and glare at the overprotective detective. "I'm not going to just run ahead, Detective. You have the badge."

"We need to stay close together in this place, ma'am," Blake whispers near my ear as we step through the old-fashioned waiting room. I sigh but slow my pace.

The chairs look ratty and uncomfortable and the walls are all made of a dull, boring, dark stone. I notice dust building up on the wooden surfaces of nearly all the furniture. No one is in here; in fact, it looks like no one ever comes here to visit.

The screams continue to echo.

We stop at the front desk, where we're met by an orderly sitting behind a wall of glass. I've felt someone's eyes on us since we entered the building. Clearly, she's been expecting us.

"Welcome to the Elizabeth Arkham Asylum for the Criminally Insane. A pleasure to meet the great Detective Blake," the orderly says. Her mouth moves stiffly, as though she's not used to talking much. Her soft, wooden voice is already muffled due to the glass barrier standing between us and her. The only way we can hear her is because of a small hole that was drilled through the thick, roughly at her eye-level. There's a door that leads into the glass cubicle she's seated in, and then another door behind that one, presumably which leads into deeper parts of the asylum.

She blinks slowly. "You're here to speak with Bane, correct? That is why you brought the girl who's been all over the news lately?" The orderly's gray eyes flicker my way and then go back to Blake.

"Yes, ma'am," Blake says. "We're sorry to bother you at such a late hour but it's imperative that we speak with Bane as soon as possible."

Feeling anxious, I sidle closer to the desk. "Thank you so much for letting us in here," I tell the orderly. "I have a lot of things I'd like to talk to him about."

Her rigid posture relaxes a bit and she smiles softly in my direction. "Of course, sweetie," she breathes. "I know how easy it is to get attached to a patient. Dr. Quinzel was mad about one of her patients, but she's thankfully come to her senses."

Come to her senses? Wait, did she say…

"Dr. Quinzel… From TV?" I ask.

The orderly isn't listening. She's rifling through one of the drawers of her desk. Wadded up wrappers filled with bright, chewed bubble gum, bit up flat erasers, and balled up notebook paper spill out of the drawer and onto the floor as she looks for something. Soon, her feet are swimming in piles of junk, but she doesn't seem bothered by it.

"Ah."

She raises her hand. In it, she holds a small black bottle. She pushes the short tube through the hole in the glass.

"For you, sweetheart. If Bane gets rowdy, just spray him in the eyes with this a few times. Always calms the patients right up, after the screaming stops."

I look at the small bottle with a grimace before gently pushing it back to the other side of the glass.

"No, thank you," I respond.

The orderly turns up her skinny nose and shoves the pepper spray into the pocket of her white scrubs. She gives a dismissive shrug.

"Suit yourself. Alright, Detective. You and your companion may follow me." She grabs a ring of keys that were hanging from a hook on the wall nearest to her and presses a button on her desk.

There's a clicking noise. Suddenly, the metal door next to the glass wall slides open. The orderly stands in the doorway. I see now that she's shorter than me, and she's wearing Converses with cartoon characters printed on them.

"Right this way," she says, while spinning on her padded soles and walking down a hallway that was concealed behind her small front desk area. Blake and I follow after her softly padding cartoon sneakers, into a world that I never wanted Bane to be a part of.

If the waiting area looked like a medieval castle, then this maze of hallways behind the front desk is the dungeon. We pass by cell after cell, door after door, glass container after glass container, each holding a human with a "defective" mind that was diagnosed by yet another human and sentenced to a life no one would ever purposefully choose. Some women shout at us as we pass by, some men rattle their bars and make animalistic sounds. Some hollow-eyed people just watch silently as we pass by. Others laugh. The laughter is by far the most unnerving.

Sometimes, I pause and read some of the files that are situated in small, plastic bins attached next to some patient's holding cells.

Next to a sullen-faced older man with fading red hair: "Walter Kovacs – WM, Age: 68. Suffers from multiple personality disorder. Suffered from physical and mental trauma during his past. Violent tendencies. Remain alert when entering room." I meet the man's eyes. He stares back, unblinking. I lift my hand and give a small wave, if only to let him know I acknowledge his presence. Staring into his eyes makes me feel sad, like he needed help doing something, but that blank look meant that I, maybe no one else in the world, was going to be able to help him do it. He doesn't wave or return my smile.

Beside a short-statured, giggling man with crow's feet placed gently against the corners of his eyes: "Jervis Tetch. WM, Age 33. Former neuroscientist. Highly manipulative. Requires sedation during visits." He mumbles to himself and laughs, but otherwise ignores us.

One man suddenly throws himself against the bars of his cell. A redhead, with eyes that jump around like a helicopter's spotlight in search of prey, is now staring directly at Blake. His white jumpsuit is stained with questionable red and green marks.

"Hey, Detective, Detective! Want to try and crack one of my riddles?" he asks, before falling on the floor in a wild fit of laughter.

"Ignore that one," the orderly says. Her voice is void of emotion and she doesn't slow her gait as she passes the redheaded man by. "Everyone else ignores him. At least until it's time to feed him his meds."

My stomach feels tight with guilt as I shuffle after the fast-paced orderly and her bouncing afro.

"This place is even worse than I thought," I whisper to Blake. "Do you think we can pull him out of here tonight?"

Blake squeezes my shoulder. "I'll see what I can do."

"This way," the orderly calls from in front of us. "You'll want to keep up. If you were to get lost in here, it could get very dangerous."

Blake and I exchange a glance and pick up our pace.

Finally, we round a corner and come to a solitary, large, metal door. There's a crude sign stuck to the door that reads "Permanent Resident?". I glare at the sign.

The orderly uses her keys to unlock the door and then shoots us a furtive glance.

"Here we are. Please, take as long as you need. I'll be here until morning."

With that, she doubles back to another door where someone has been screaming bloody murder since we passed by. With pepper spray in hand, the orderly unlocks the door and disappears inside.

I immediately whip back around to the "Permanent Resident" door and rip its sign down. I crumple the paper into a ball and shove it into my pocket.

"Well, what are we waiting for?" I turn to Blake, only to find him not standing beside me. He's stepped a few feet away and is now leaning against the wall, brow drawn low.

"You go ahead. You need to talk to him alone."

I open my mouth to argue … but close it just as quickly. He's right. As much as I want to, I can't keep hiding behind Blake. Some problems I've got to face and solve myself.

"You're right," I reply. I tug at the collar of my woolly pajama top and then place my hands firmly at my sides. "I just … need a second."

"Rose," Blake stresses when minutes tick by and I still don't move to open the door, "He knows you. He's been living with you for nearly four months. He'll believe you if you explain what happened in your own words over what he's seen on the news."

I rub at my throat, remembering the time that Bane choked me when I was planning on turning him over to that Gaunt-Face dude and the Abolishers. This time, I really did give him up. And thanks to my "brilliant" plan of not explaining to him clearly why I was doing so, he probably thought I decided to take the money and split once it got too hard. I rack through my brain, trying to think of the right thing to say. What do you say to a friend that you don't want to hurt, but you don't think it's good for you to be around them?

I chew my lip harder, then look up and face the looming metal door. The metal seems to stretch up above me for yards, like an endless vertical path of gleaming silver. I press my hand against the shining metal, push it open, and then step inside.

The first thing I notice is how bright it is. There are three strips of fluorescent lights above me, twitching, vibrating. Their monotonous hum brings the only sound in the otherwise silent room.

My eyes trickle down to the rest of the room. Huh. I was expecting white, padded walls, maybe chains like I'd seen some of the other patients tied up in. But, there's none of that in here. In fact, the room seems more like a hotel room. There's a plush bed near the back of the room, layered down with what looks to be fresh white linen and a plush lavender comforter. Pillows the size of pigs rest at the head of the bed. Next to the bed sits a short table, which is stacked dangerously high with enormously fat novels and textbooks. There's a lamp next to the books. Over to the left of the bed and the table is a loveseat decorated with round, frilly pillows. A velvet blanket the color of the sunset is draped across the back of the loveseat. More books rest on the ground beside the chair. No sign of the reader.

Then, there's a television. I know everyone needs a little entertainment every now and then, but wow… This flatscreen television is pushing sixty inches, maybe more than that.

Still not seeing Bane, I tiptoe over to the giant television and stare, in awe. It's on, and Candace Weaver is speaking.

"This just in," Candace Weaver says. Miss Weaver is perched on the edge of her giant seat and she's practically falling over her desk. "I repeat, this just in! It seems as though there was a huge misunderstanding over the pictures of Valencia Paisley that have been shown over the air today."

Time seems to slow down. I take a deep breath and step closer to the television.

"That's right; it seems as though no one was given the full story behind those supposedly defaming photos taken at Club Gothix. Instead of showing us a party girl, we are seeing the horrible effects of bullying and the poor judgment of an innocent girl. Witnesses have started coming forward to tell their stories."

Suddenly, the screen goes fuzzy and Kole appears on the screen.

"Yeah … It was all planned," Kole is saying. There's not an ounce of regret or any emotion kin to it on his face. He looks almost … nonchalant, besides maybe being a little excited to be on camera.

He winks at the camera and forms a capital "A" using the middle and index finger of his left hand and the pointer finger on his right hand. "It's up to the Abolishers to bring order and justice to Gotham now. We can't trust the cops, we can't trust the politicians. We gotta right the wrongs ourselves. If you've never heard of the Abolishers, we're the ones who are going to give Bane back to the people he tried to destroy."

Nausea causes my stomach to roll. That lying piece of … He was a … How could I have been—

"To verify, your plan was to get Bane removed from Miss Paisley's home through defamation of character?" a reporter asks from off-camera.

Kole smirks and shrugs. "Yeah, in short. Our overall plan was to show everyone how stupid this whole 'babysitting' idea was in the first place. No one's going to be able to change that monster. Yet the police hand him off to a college student. Really? Really? I made it a point to get to know Rose, or Valencia, or whatever she goes by, and not only is she stupid, she's weak and easily manipulated. I could tell Bane and anyone else would be able to walk over her, pretend they were changed, and then go right back into the world the same way he left it. She couldn't change anyone even if she really wanted to."

My hands tighten into fists. I'm so mad that I'm shaking.

"I'm friends with these other students at GU who joined the Abolishers not too long ago. We all got together and we decided we'd, um, do something. Something to get Bane picked off Rose's hands as quickly as possible."

"Something like what?" the reporter asks. Kole shifts a little. His smile falls away and I notice sweat start to build on the pale, almond skin above his upper lip.

"Yeah, Kole," I hear myself shouting at the screen. "Tell them what the hell you and your friends did!" My voice breaks at the end of my sentence and suddenly, I'm crying. Kole starts to stutter out what happened but I cover my ears. I don't want to relive that night … I don't want to hear his disgusting mouth talk about me or Bane …

Try as I may, some of his rambling confession slips through to my ears.

"… took her out on a fake date…."

"Everyone at the club was in on it…"

"…gave her a drink with molly."

"… felt her up a bit …. J-Just a little bit!"

"… took pictures… laughed … sent them to the media."

"It got out of control, man … broken bottles … She was hurt, I think."

I sit on the bed and cry into my hands. I feel the ghosts of Kole's and the other Abolisher's slimy hands crawling over my body all over again, the bottles breaking against my skin, the slicing, the burning alcohol … And all of it, all of Kole's smiles, all of his jokes, even our first meeting in the library, had been a ploy to get Bane into their hands and make me look like an idiot.

No, no, no. I won't allow myself to be a victim of this crazy scheme. I've got to be more than that. I am more than that.

I lift my head out of my hands and take a few, deep, shuddering breaths. I put my eyes back on the flickering television screen and glare at Kole.

"It, uh … It was all for a good cause, though," Kole reminds the camera.

The reporter is silent for a moment. "…And what of reports that Bane showed up and began to attack the people at the club?"

Something strange happens then. Kole's eyes go wide and I see something like fear explode inside of them. "Ah, no way," Kole says, too quickly. "I didn't see Bane there at all. I would remember if I saw him there."

After a pause, in which Kole swipes repeatedly at his nose and stares at the ground, the screen cuts backs to Candace, whose mouth is set in a thin line.

"I'm saddened to hear what happened to Miss Paisley that night. If the hurting and drugging of young women is what the Abolishers think will bring about justice, I don't think I can stand behind them. Out of respect of this newfound information, all stations in the United States will cease showing the defamatory images of Paisley immediately. Police are asking for more witnesses of this incident to come forward with any new information. Right now, no plans are being made to arrest the people involved in Paisley's drugging and public beating, but this lack of punishment has yet to have been made final. Because of the large role these pictures played in Bane's removal from Paisley's home, it's been announced that the decision will be reviewed by jury members."

A commercial comes on. My entire body slumps forward and I crash my face back into the dampness of my palms. There's this strange kind of relief and disappointment tugging around inside of my chest right now. Relief because that weird, crusty-faced man parading around as a doctor seems to have somehow followed through on his side of the bargain, and I won't be embarrassing my family and loved ones with those photos, at least not anymore. Now, everyone knows the truth about the twisted views of the Abolishers.

But, I also feel disappointment. People know what happened to me, but no one is going to stand beside me and call for something to be done to the people who did it. I feel disappointment in myself because I should have known better than to trust someone like Kole. He was too perfect. Like he said, I am stupid for falling for his big, fake smile. Helping me get that Patterson book in the library, asking me on a date, laughing with me … all of that had been a ploy. I was just too gullible and naïve to see past it all to his true intentions. I was blinded by the fact that there was someone who actually seemed to be interested in me for once.

There's a sudden loud noise to the right of me. I pull my face away from my hands and look towards the door. It's been slammed shut. In the room, Bane stands in the area that the opened door hadpreviously obscured from my view.

I yelp, nearly falling off the bed with the shock of seeing him. He's going to give the Batman a run for his money for being the terrifying "pop-out-of-nowhere-and-scare-whoever-is-nearby" king.

Bane watches me scramble to catch myself, but doesn't move from where he's casually leaning against the wall. "Rose," he greets me. Like the orderly from earlier, his voice lacks a definable emotion. It's as flat as a tabletop.

I quickly collect myself as Bane proffers himself from the shadows and steps into the brightness of the humming, flickering lights. Now I can see that he's wearing a spotless white jumpsuit and padded, slip-on shoes. His eyes are depthless, filled with shadows and pinning me right where I sit, still teary-eyed on the bed. His mask clicks and hisses at me from his face like an angry animal, and I feel every word I'd been planning to say to him wither away on my tongue. I take in his jumpsuit, the same kind worn by the chuckling, sobbing patients in the other cells and my throat tightens.

"Damn, Bane," I say, dropping my eyes back to the navy carpet. "I'm so sorry."

Bane doesn't respond. Instead, he comes over and sits next to me. I feel the bed dip under his weight. Nervously, I look at him. He trains his eyes on the television and appears to get lost in his own thoughts. It's obvious—he's heard every part of Kole's interview.

I shift beside him as the seconds go by and neither of us say anything. I have so much I need to tell him that it feels like there's a traffic jam of words in my throat.

Just as I've opened my mouth to blurt out something, anything … Bane speaks.

"I admire you, Rose."

Admire me? Because of me, you're sitting in an asylum! I've done nothing to be proud of!

I hurl all of his praise back at him and tell him how wrong he is, but I don't. Really, I feel like I've done enough talking. I said my piece in the courthouse. I didn't give him the chance to really talk to me outside of the courthouse. I want to hear him talk now.

So, I ask, "Why?"

Bane chains his fingers together, interlacing them beneath the bottom of his mask. He rests his elbows atop his white-clad knees and stares at me.

"You are able to carry many troublesome truths within yourself. You don't want to burden others with what you deem as your battles. You face things alone, rather than risk others being in the line of fire. Because of that, I admire you. It is a noble trait to possess."

I can't help it. I open my mouth and speak, "That's ridiculous. I'm not—"

"But this is exactly what makes you a child," he continues.

I immediately shut my mouth.

"You lack proper communication skills."

Ouch.

"You allow dangerous people to get close to you far too easily."

True, true.

"And you idiotically and haphazardly choose to believe you can face everything alone, yet you defy the odds by nearly always failing miserably in these poorly conducted, noble attempts."

Multiple shots fired. I don't know how much more of this "letting Bane talk" I can take.

I hold up my hands, conceding. "Okay, okay! Those adverbs were a little harsh, but I agree. I do all of those things." I sigh. "Please, continue."

"I told you that I trusted you. I did not state this based on simple formalities, but because this is what has become the truth. To put my trust in another human being is a feat I do not take lightly, but you have proven yourself worthy of my trust. You've chosen to protect my life even when I have put yours in danger. That is why I believed … you were doing all of this to prevent me from facing trouble."

I lean forward, trying to get a better view of his face. "You trusted me? After all of this?" I ask.

He nods. "Of course. Your actions in the past have given me no reason to doubt my trust in you. After hearing what happened to you at that cesspool of a nightclub, it's simple to see why you might have felt it … necessary to travel this route."

I finger one of the bandages on my arm. Looking into Bane's eyes, there's no judgment. Just the desire to hear the truth, from a friend.

I grip my knees and draw in a deep breath. "Being noble isn't what I was trying to do, Bane," I admit. "I'm just a big coward who thought she could help someone get a second chance."

"Despite your inability to understand it, you have been giving me a second chance, one far more pleasing than staying in an establishment for the clinically insane," Bane responds in an even tone.

I smile at him and then look back at my feet. "But it's not always a good time and that's because of me. I want you to be with someone who can protect you and stand up for you and who won't get kidnapped and tricked by those stupid Abolishers. I'm not good with the media, with conflict, with having to stand up for other people. I'm not even good at standing up for myself."

I hesitate. When I look at Bane, I see that he's still watching me, waiting for me to speak. I pull my legs up onto the bed and turn to face him, swallowing hard while I do so.

"Listen, um … There's another reason I was trying to get away from you so quickly," I murmur. "I was … embarrassed."

"Embarrassed?" Bane asks.

"Yeah. I went on that 'date' with Kole without even really knowing him, and I wore that dress you warned me about. And it all went to … well, you know. Look at this gigantic mess I caused. The media wants you executed and Tippy is probably still being questioned by the police about what she saw that night. I made trouble for everyone around me."

It's hard to say the next words and maintain eye contact, but the desire to be brave and see Bane's response keeps my eyes fixed on his.

"Then, you saw those photos of me…."

Bane's reply is a deep, measured inhale.

Hot tears start to prick at my eyes. "I didn't want you to look at me differently after seeing those pictures. I know what you're going to say. I know that in the long run, other people's opinions of me shouldn't matter. I know this. But, to me, yours matters. You said that living with me has been your second chance. Well, living with you has been my second chance. You've helped me see how strong I can be. I've still got a ways to go but I'm getting there. I just didn't want to see that I let you down."

There's silence between Bane and I then, broken only periodically by spikes in the sound coming from the huge television.

"Little Rose," Bane says, mirth causing his voice to become higher pitched. "I sometimes forget just how young and inexperienced to this life you are."

Before I can twist my mouth open to disagree, Bane speaks again.

"I apologize."

"For what? You don't have to tell me 'sorry'. You haven't done anything."

"On the contrary. By agreeing to live with you, I invited you into the darkest depths of Gotham, into the underworld that most Gotham's citizens live their entire lives without seeing. You haven't been able to live a normal life since I was brought into your home. You are young; you should be able to visit places with a young man of your choosing without these unnecessary worries. Because of me, you have had to change your way of life and grow up quickly. My apologies for taking away your right to be a carefree young woman instead of what you're trying to become … for me."

"Aw, Bane." I smile and feel the tears I'd been holding back start crawling down my cheeks. I fall forward and wrap my arms around his side. Like always, his body goes rigid and I hear his breathing rate change when I hug him.

"You don't ever have to apologize to me. I would do it all over again if it meant you'll get a chance to live a carefree life, too."

Bane's body finally relaxes. Hesitantly, like he's afraid I'll suddenly pull away, he reaches up and rests his heavy hand on my arm.

"I … didn't think you'd come here for me," Bane comments.

I release him. "Of course, I'd come out here for you! There's no way you're staying another night in this place! I've got Blake right outside the door and we're pulling you out of here."

Bane drags his thoughtful gaze away from my face. "That won't be necessary."

Guffawing, I give him a light punch on the arm. "Hey, don't talk like that! You know how Blake gets things done. He'll have you out of here in no time. Then, you can come back to my apartment until we find someone else who will take you in!" I catch the excited rise in my voice, so I dial it down a bit. "Um, if you want to come back to my place, that is. I bet Blake could always set you up in a nice hotel. None of that motel crap, either. Only the best for Gotham's reckoning."

Bane's eyes crinkle at the corners at my joke, but he doesn't reply. He looks sad.

My hands fall into the pool of violet sheets caught beneath my folded legs. "Bane?" I ask, carefully. "What's wrong?"

The quiet in the room is violently shattered by an earsplitting screech from somewhere outside. After a moment of eerie silence, I hear Blake shout out. Suddenly, a red bulb in the corner of Bane's room starts flashing and a second later, an alarm starts blaring throughout Arkham.

"Blake?" I yell. "What's happening? I'm coming—" I go to jump off the bed to investigate, but something grabs my wrist. I look down and see that Bane's holding me. I look from my wrist to Bane's eyes, brownish and set in determination, and know something's wrong.

"There is one more apology I must give you," Bane says.

I tug against his grip, even though I know I'm not going to be able to break free.

"Bane, you don't have to apologize. But something's wrong and we should get out of here!"

Bane continues as though I hadn't even spoken. "Although your efforts in procuring me from this place are appreciated, they were for naught. For that, I apologize. There have already been arrangements made for my release from this God-forsaken city."

I finally succeed in tearing my arm away from him. Drops of sweat roll down my forehead as I press my back against the wall that's farthest away from Bane.

"Start explaining," I demand.

Bane stands up from the bed, unfurling himself to his full height. The flashing bulb attached to the ceiling showers the entire room in red, like a thick and bloody downpour.

"This is Gotham's second and final reckoning, my dear. You stand here at the heart of it!"

The door to the room is blasted from its hinges and flung across the room. Its charred remains fly between Bane and I and slams against the wall with a loud thud. At the newly opened entrance stands a slightly singed man in a dark lavender suit and cheap shoes. His face is painted with a crusty, cakey white face paint. His lips are slathered bright red and their corners pierce into the apples of his cheeks. Ringlets of filthy blonde and green hair fall around his white-painted face in a collapsed bouquet of dying, dehydrated grass.

It's the man from the hospital.

Behind the man, I see dozens of released patients running wild through the asylum. Orderlies are being overwhelmed in the red-filled hallways. It's pure madness.

The man dusts off his sooty clothes and coughs into his gloved hand. He looks up and glances between Bane and I. He breaks out into a manic grin.

"Hi. Didn't expect to see you here. What, all the media attention drove you straight into the looney bin? Or did you find out you needed Beefy here as a bodyguard after all?" He laughs at his own joke.

"Who are you?" I ask. "What do you want from us?"

"Mmm, tough questions. For now, let's skip introductions." He switches his attention to Bane and I quickly take the chance to bend down and scoop up one of Bane's books. It's sturdy; strong enough to knock a man out cold. I hide it between me and the wall.

"Alright, big guy," the man says to Bane. "The, uh-calvary has arrived. Let's blow this joint."

The purple-clad man picks up an automatic rifle from the ground and tosses it to Bane. Bane catches the gun with ease, without ever taking his eyes off the man. I begin edging closer to the man, the book still clutched in my hands. If I'm going to get out of here, I'm going to have to catch him by surprise.

I can't believe this. That man … the hospital visit … What the heck is going on?

"You're later than expected," Bane murmurs.

"I'm sorry, couldn't quite understand you with that thing strapped over your face," is the man's reply. "Pack your bags and let's move!"

The man turns around to leave the room and I take it as my chance to act. I raise the book above my head, charge forward, and bring it crashing down against the back of his skull. The man collapses on the ground.

I stand over him for a second, chest heaving. When I hear movement behind me, I spin around with the book still brandished as a weapon.

Bane stares down at me, waiting to see what I think I'm going to do with a book against him. This book might as well be a nacho chip against Bane, but I'll use it anyway.

"Whatever the heck this is, you're not doing it," I say. "If you attack Gotham again or try to escape, the city is going to kill you. You're not going to get another chance."

Bane gives a dry laugh. "I never had nor needed a second chance with this city. Gotham City has taken everything from me and spews nothing in return except hatred. Its judgment day will not be postponed any longer."

In one quick swipe, Bane relieves me of the book. He tosses it behind him and looks back at me. Hands emptied, my adrenaline rush leaves me. I shake my head and press my lips together.

All I can do now is beg. I think of the terror that took hold of Gotham resurfacing and my hands start to shake. I recall the lifeless bodies Bane left in his wake and his void eyes that stared into the camera during news broadcasts as he warned us of our imminent deaths. I was so afraid. Every day was a nightmare. Somehow, I managed to forget about all of that as Bane and I became friends. If he goes back to being that man, my city is gone. Our friendship is gone. We're all going to be out of second chances.

"You're being so stupid!" I yell. "Why are you giving up your life like this? You call me a child, but this is childish! Whatever Gotham took from you, leave it in the past! You're robbing yourself of your own future!"

Bane steps towards me but I stand my ground and keep talking, even as his hand begins to lift towards my neck.

"What about my family? What about them? They're going to be worried about me all over again. They love you, Bane. This is going to break their hearts."

Bane grips around my throat. Slowly, my feet begin to rise off the ground. The familiar, choking feeling explodes in my chest. I start sobbing and clawing at his arm.

"And… And what about me? I love you, too!" I choke out.

"Stop talking," Bane replies. His grip gets tighter.

"You're my best friend. Please … Don't … Don't …"

My vision starts to blur. I feel my feet stop kicking. My head lolls to the side and I stop trying to breathe.

I catch one last glimpse of Bane's emotionless eyes before I finally disappear into the dark.

Next time, the Dark Arc begins. As warned, it's less light-hearted than previous chapters but it's still going to be a bit of fun! New characters, DC villains and heroes arise when Gotham once again faces its day of reckoning ... Stay tuned!