Bane closed the thick, wooden double doors behind him, sweeping his eyes around the room, finding most of the faces of familiar to some degree except a man sitting in the corner with an obscenely phallic unlit cigar.
Bane couldn't stop himself from allowing his eyes to linger a few extra moments on Fabiana, he had no desire for the woman, but Fabiana Fyre was beautiful.
She could walk through the forest and the eyes of everything from the red-eyed tree frog to the large beaked toucan would be on her. Even the cellulose plant fibers of floral stamens stood taller and stronger when she walked by.
Bane nodded at Talia as she settled at the head of a rectangular mahogany table.
Everyone in the room joined her at the table, a hand clutching some sort of alcoholic beverage. Sometimes the other hand was occupied with something to smoke, whether for medicinal purposes or a good ole fashioned cheap thrill.
Bane remained standing near one of the brightly painted walls as Talia detailed more of the explosion that had killed Pavel, how the disintegration of the jet was the same with her plan of using Pavel's scientific mind to decimate Gotham City.
She scanned the faces around the table for ideas, slamming her palm repeatedly on the table until Fabiana walked without urgency to a corner bar and prepared Talia a potent drink, all booze and one floating, square ice cube.
The bulk of the mind's at the table scrambled together alternate ideas with Dr. Pavel eliminated from the equation of Talia's revenge.
Talia was most concerned about the financial aspect of her carefully curated plan of disemboweling Gotham City, tap dancing in the nuclear afterbirth.
She looked across the table to Fabiana, knowing that the Crimson King was heavily involved in human trafficking, supplying women, infants, and children to every kind of world leader in the highest offices of government around the globe.
"The girl," Talia stated, "how much could she yield after you take a percentage of course?"
Fabiana steepled her fingers, resting her sharp chin. She knew a lot of Clara's value was wrapped up in her purity as well as what kind of secrets she might be harboring in the frontal lobe of her brain.
"She would bring in a greater sum in an arranged private sale," Fabiana murmured, whipping her exquisite face towards Bane as she added. "Don't you agree, you've surely navigated your way through the same markets that my husband sells to, what value would you assign to that young woman?"
Behind his mask, Bane smiled. His tone was devoid of life when he spoke.
"Her sale could fund an uprising," he stated on a mechanical wheeze, adding after a brief pause as he directed his attention to Talia. "You should glean her mind for secrets of her father's administration before such a sale is considered."
Talia nodded thoughtfully.
"Bring her to me, I shall find out what she knows about the world," Talia stated before she dismissed the majority of the people in the room, including the non-smoking man before Bane discovered his identity.
Bane reflexively moved away from the wall, while Fabiana rose to her feet simultaneously speaking.
"I'll join you," Fabiana stated, her tone contained no request for permission.
Bane nodded, walking side by side towards Clara's quarters, he knew her dancing would be finished, and Maya would escort her back.
Fabiana was statuesque in her heels, just a hair shorter than Bane.
"What's your assessment of Clara?" Fabiana asked after nothing but footsteps and silence had passed.
Bane spoke without delay, "she has value."
"Do you agree with Talia in selling her for all that her worth encompasses?" Fabiana followed-up without pause.
"It would be quick and easy money," he started, pausing to add in a strained rasp, "but short-sighted with the potential value in her head."
"What about between her thighs?" Fabiana purred, her tone holding just the edge of ugly, factual perversion.
"It is significant," Bane answered after a hissing, mechanical delay.
Fabiana smiled to herself as both of them continued to Clara's room in silence.
Fabiana noticed much of what Talia was oblivious to happening in her surroundings. She saw how Bane was burning alive but never consumed by the flames when he was near Clara.
As Bane and Fabiana drew closer, in her quarters, Clara finished drying off after a shower and began to rub a luxurious lotion that held the delicate scent of hibiscus onto her neck and smooth skin of the top of her chest.
Her body was tired from the physical exertion, and she was lost in her own world when Fabiana knocked as she pushed open the door.
"Clara, you are well?" she warmly greeted the political socialite.
Clara turned towards the doorway, her eyes meeting Fabiana's, unable to not notice Bane's broad form past the curve of her shoulder, her body tingling in remembrance from the touch of his hands.
"Yes, thank you, yourself?"
"Just fine darling, I need you to accompany me back to Talia's, a matter of grave importance has arisen."
"What happened? Has my father done something?" Clara asked as she set the jar of cream on the edge of the granite counter.
"Your father? No dear, nothing has happened with your father, I'm afraid this is much worse," Fabiana purred in an assuring tone.
Currently, Governor Matthew Leroux and the rest of the Leroux family was in the midst of his hectic reelection campaign, and his pregnant opossum daughter-in-law was about to give birth any day.
Matthew Leroux's political fixer kept up the charade of Clara deep in rehab, practically off the grid. News reports had her running with wolves, eating carrion and digging holes to shit in.
After Governor Leroux won his reelection campaign, he set his sights on the highest office in the land.
It would be said through official statements and gossip rags that Clara's light would be extinguished in a very sad overdose.
There would be plenty of conspiracies about what actually happened to Clara even after the story faded to internet archives but conspiracy in politics is always eventual.
As Fabiana walked across the plush carpet, settling on the sofa, her flowing dress generated its own wind around her lean legs.
Bane closed the door and remained standing as Fabiana continued addressing Clara, whose eyes were now wide and unblinking.
"Talia's plan has experienced an unfortunate … hiccup," Fabiana directed towards Clara, adding after the smallest pause. "Your role within Talia's eyes is shifting, in a much less favorable direction."
"What does that mean?" Clara asked, certain the pounding of her artery was going to generate an aneurysm with the pressure.
Fabiana smiled gently at the frightened political socialite, "you have value, and you need to bring something to Talia that is worth much. Do you possess knowledge about anything that she could weaponize?"
Clara swallowed hard, nodding, "I could topple the highest offices in the land."
Fabiana smiled broadly, a real smile that revealed her chipped tooth. She knew how to smile and move in a manner that concealed any and every flaw, perceived or actual. Yet somehow, Fabiana found herself smiling at Clara, free of the constraints of fashion, photography optics or what her agent would say.
"Please be sure it is not an oversell on your part before you present this to Talia," Fabiana warned.
Clara straightened her shoulders, "It could affect the global market," she stated.
Fabiana nodded, "I truly hope so, otherwise your future will be the one affected,"
"In what way?" Clara immediately asked.
"Your status, beauty and untouched cunt will bring Talia a great sum," Fabiana answered bluntly.
Clara glanced over at Bane as Fabiana's words filled the room, her face filling with a mortified blush at the undiluted truth from between her beautiful lips.
"I swear what I possess about my father and countless politicians is practically invaluable," Clara murmured, an involuntary shudder passing through her lithe frame as Fabiana rose and moved with fluid grace to prepare the socialite a strong drink.
"Drink darling," Fabiana purred as she pressed the glass into Clara's shaking hands, murmuring soft words as she rubbed Clara's back, continuing after Clara finished the drink in three burning swallows. "Come convince Talia."
Clara avoided looking directly at Bane on the walk to Talia's quarters.
Each footfall from the trio gave an ominous echo in the hallway, the trip seeming to take eons longer than Clara remembered.
She was certain she felt Bane's eyes upon her as they proceeded to Talia's suite but each time she tried to slyly peek a glance at him from underneath her fringe of lashes, he wasn't even looking in her direction.
Clara was accurate though in her suspicions, Bane never took his eyes off of her as Fabiana led the way, he was just always looking elsewhere when she tried to sneak a glimpse.
Talia looked up as Fabiana approached with Clara in tow, gesturing at a chair for her to sit.
Clara settled on the hard, wooden chair, nervously crossing, and uncrossing her legs. She was very much aware of Bane standing just on the edge of her periphery, a god chiseled from stone, the rage merely dormant.
Clara could see the stress pulling at Talia's beautiful features, could feel the anxiety emanating from her in waves that kissed her taut skin.
Clara began speaking, initially falling over her words, "I heard something happened that has threatened your plans, I'm sorry, I can help you."
Talia leaned back in her chair, smiled as her tone turned nasty. "How is it that you can help me Miss Clara Leroux?" she hissed.
"I can make governments grovel at your feet," she said as she sat up straighter in the chair, trying to force confidence to the surface that she didn't quite feel yet.
"How exactly can you do that? Talia asked, her tone softened after the potent glance she'd received from Fabiana.
Barsad was on the other side of the room by the wet bar, sipping an unsweetened black coffee, he also took immediate interest in Clara's claims.
"I have audio and video files of presidents, senators, congressman, and world leaders of nearly every variety doing very bad things," Clara stated.
"Do tell Miss Leroux," Talia said, leaning forward.
Fabiana couldn't help but be equally interested as well.
Barsad moved closer and sat at the other end of the table as Clara nodded wordlessly, rubbing her hands together before she looked up at Fabiana, searching the woman's exquisite features.
"May I have something to drink?" Clara asked as she looked over at the bar, rising from her seat, appearing to wait for permission.
Barsad rose before he realized how abrupt his movements were. "Don't get up, what would you like?"
"Something strong."
Bane watched Barsad scurry to the bar and prepare Clara a whiskey sour., hurriedly bringing it to her.
Behind his mask, Bane's scarred lips pulled into a line as he remained watching, listening.
Clara took a few fast sips, anxious for the alcohol's numbing embrace. "It's in my bedroom, the winter home," she added as she stared down at the glass in her hand, the surface glossy and reflective, the orange peel submerged.
"You have this kind of information just out in the open?" Talia scoffed.
Clara shook her head before she took a deep sip of the cocktail, feeling the warmth from the alcohol spread throughout her chest and belly. "It's in my dollhouse."
"Your doll house?" Talia stated flatly.
Clara looked up, a flash of anger in her Irises at Talia's diminishment of her dollhouse.
"Yes, my doll house," she snapped. "It was given to me by my great-grandfather, he carved everything by hand in the hopes that he was going to have a daughter. He never did and he gifted it to me," Clara said as she stared down at her whiskey drink, lost in thought about the dollhouse.
Her great-grandfather had built a house with many rooms.
The floor of the formal dining room had been fashioned from his father's black and white chessboard.
That was all she really remembered about him, playing chess across from him as a small child, the end of his cigar would light up like the sun with each drag he took before he moved a carved piece.
"So you have them just sitting out in this dollhouse?" Talia asked.
Clara shook her head, "out of the many rooms, there is a library with an actual Persian rug that my father obtained while at the Embassy. There's a shelf in that room with volumes of books, many of those books are formed around flash and memory cards."
A small smile pulled at the corners of Clara's lips as she thought about dusting the neatly lined up books, every nook and cranny of the dollhouse with cotton-tipped swabs to catch every bit of offending detritus.
"What kind of crimes do you have on those files?"
Clara smiled, "name it."
Talia's head began to spin, and she directed Maya to return Clara to her quarters.
Clara was happy to get out of the spacious yet suffocating quarters.
Bane followed Clara and Maya out, giving the illusion of exiting, being out of earshot.
Instead, he made a sharp left, pressing his face close to a small hole that allowed him to see Talia, Fabiana and Barsad gathered at the table.
Bane narrowed his eyes as Barsad began speaking before Talia.
"I'll go get the dollhouse, bring it back here," he offered.
Talia lifted a sculpted eyebrow, "why volunteer?"
Barsad pressed his lips together, hesitant to let the words spill from between his lips.
Fabiana saw the scheme being born in Barsad's eyes, wet and shiny like a weasel's.
Due to Bane relegating Barsad to spend a great deal of his time with The Crimson King, he'd learned what he could ask for after performing certain acts.
"I'll bring you the dollhouse," Barsad repeated.
"What's your price?" Talia asked, just as curious as Bane was about his demands.
"I want Clara in exchange for the dollhouse if it indeed holds the information she says it does."
Bane clenched his teeth so hard that his jaw clicked, he struggled to not burst back through the double doors and pull Barsad's organs from deep inside their visceral cavity, starting with the spleen, bloated with lymphocytes.
Talia leaned back in her chair.
Fabiana lit the end of a slim cigarette as Barsad waited for Talia to say something, avoiding looking over at Fabiana, the beautiful woman made him uncomfortable.
"I'll consider it," Talia finally said before she dismissed Barsad, telling him to close the doors after him on the way out. If Fabiana wasn't sitting there quietly exhaling acrid smoke, he might've pressed for an answer.
Barsad exited through a narrow door in the rear of the room, never knowing Bane had seen it all.
"My husband has rewarded his most loyal men with wives," Fabiana murmured before she pulled in a lungful of the smoke.
Talia shrugged, "if there really is that damning of footage, I won't need her anymore," she admitted.
"What of your other man?" Fabiana asked, "the masked one?"
Bane pressed as close to the wall as he could.
Talia laughed loudly, "Bane is many things but closer to an animal than a man. It'd be like handing over a sparrow to a bull elephant."
Fabiana didn't smile or laugh, "you don't think he wants to have something delicate, precious, lovely to hold?"
Talia stopped laughing, standing up to cross the room and pour herself a glass of full-bodied red wine, taking a sip before answering.
"My friend doesn't have the same desires as other men," Talia tried again, her tone gentler as she tried to soften her earlier words. "He only knows how to kill, he would never be able to be loyal to anyone but me."
Bane heard Talia the first time, knew no matter what came out of her mouth since was all disingenuous.
He no longer desired to hear any more of Talia's speaking and pushed away from the wall.
Bane stomped back to his room, livid.
Fury fueled each of his heavy steps.
He closed and locked the doors to his quarters, keeping the lights off and lighting a handful of candles before pulling out a ball of turquoise blue yarn, picking up where'd he'd paused his crocheting.
Bane hatched a plan, the hooked needle delicate in his blunt fingertips