Jane looked down at where her small hand was trapped within Bane's, her body was in a state of flux, akin to the activity at the start of the universe with swirling globes of molten magma, liquid steel, birthed in pyroclastic fire and orbited by projectiles that could maim, penetrate, or kill.
The inside of her thighs were slick with blood, his spilled warm seed, and their collective bodily fluids. Jane's intimate center ached from his urgent thrusting, his aggressive attainment of complete physical possession.
She offered a half-hearted nod when Bane squeezed her hand, wordlessly repeating himself.
"I'm … I need," Jane started, chuckling dryly when she lost her words.
"Jane?"
"I'm just tired, I could use some sleep," Jane admitted as she lifted her eyes to meet his, tugging her hand free of his.
Bane returned her stare, seeing the fatigue and more painted across her exquisite features.
He lifted a hand and traced the pads of his fingertips across her prominent cheekbone, along the line of her jaw until he could cup her chin, moving his thumb in slow circles around her lips.
"Sleep Jane, we will have plenty of time to talk."
Bane returned to the fire that held but a few viable embers and brought it back to life.
As he methodically began to first feed small twigs before larger branches to the growing fire, it mirrored his own rising internal energy.
His spirit burned with more heat than the flames that licked the brisk air, his soul reborn. Bane growled low, his tone holding the tenor of a satisfied animal as he slid a hand down the front of his pants and adjusted his softened cock.
He stared down at his hand, illuminated by the growing flames, showing his palm was sticky and stained from the spilled combination of their bodily fluids and her steady flow of blood.
Bane was not tired; sleep was but a thought born in a universe far away.
His senses were enhanced from the epinephrine still surging through his system, he heard the crackling of a dry leaf from under the worn tread of a pair of popular brand basketball shoes.
Bane pivoted, squaring his shoulders, rising to his full height.
"Step forward," he called, his voice a sonic boom.
The firelight created distortions in the fading light, casting shadows that made horns appear on his skull.
Geo stepped forward from the just forming darkness under the cover of the trees, further leaves crinkling and breaking under his advancing footsteps.
Bane kept his expression blanketed in neutrality as Geo drew closer.
Geo, no known last name, was younger, taller but not a predator in totality, not a true carnivore.
Despite his greater body mass, bulk and tensile strength, Geo was but a man, Bane had never been just a man.
Bane was dynamite.
"Have you come here with a fight in your heart?" Bane asked, his voice shaking the ground, making the fireflies afraid to glow, nocturnal animals reflexively closed their eyes in the wake of Bane's question.
Geo paused, shaking his head, "I don't want to fight."
"What brings you here?"
Geo truly didn't want to fight.
If pressed, he would've stated he originally was, but he'd soon recognized who Bane was, of what he was composed. Geo knew if he brought a challenge to Bane's feet that he would likely die of complete exsanguination or crawl away to succumb to bodily injuries in a thorny brush.
"You will need men," Geo said, continuing towards the warm fire when Bane nodded.
Geo's role would be to serve.
Others had been lurking in the near-dark, releasing collectively held breaths as Bane allowed Geo to share space by the warmth of the fire.
The hidden men trickled out of the tangled ivy, dark berry bushes and mismatched tents when Bane handed Geo an open bottle of shitty, bottom shelf alcohol, but still a luxury item amidst the encampment.
The men approached with their heads down and eyes lowered to the earth in front of them.
They practically crawled on their goddamn bellies for a place at the table.
Bane spoke for hours, delivering his message.
His word became all their ears heard.
The men became his hand as they excepted their directives. He spoke as the last of the moonlight died, his syllables were accompanied as event horizons expanded in the blackness of undiscovered space.
As the flock continued to gather to him, bending the knee, seemingly worlds away in the heart of Gotham City, the combined law enforcement minds struggled to put together the timeline of the almost extinction of Gotham City.
How the ramifications after the nuclear explosion would've lasted for thousands upon thousands of years, contaminated soil, and sea life for generations.
Radioactive isotopes would've leached down to the porous foundation of the Gotham City Exchange and stained the veritable infrastructure.
After Bane dispensed the first wave of instructions, the men accepting his word as though it was the eucharist, swallowing it as though it would sustain them, they began to disperse.
As Bane poked the fire, encouraging it to burn with more vigor before placing a metal pot of water on the fire, Tom Sky sauntered towards him, swinging a black umbrella, a bright yellow tulip in his dirty lapel.
"Hello, my friend," Tom called out jovially.
"What have you brought me?" Bane asked as he rose from where he'd been squatted by the fire.
"The city is quiet my liege," Tom started, "the police department has been a bustling hive morning, noon and night, the city doesn't seem to care about the overtime."
Bane nodded as he looked down and watched small bubbles begin to form in the water, knowing Jane would be awake soon and thought he might have coffee ready for her.
A frown still remained etched on his forehead when he'd thought of her comfort and the small act he could perform.
Inside the stolen morgue van, Jane stirred awake, a groan escaping from between her lips before she even opened her eyes. She rolled onto her back; her entire body ached from the inside out from his assertive touch.
She smoothed her hair back and secured it, wiping the grit from the corners of her eyes before adjusting her clothes, straining her ears when she heard Bane and Tom's voice from outside the van.
Bane and Tom Sky both fell silent when Jane emerged from the rear of the van.
"Good morning my dear," Tom called, taking off his hat and bowing deeply.
Jane gave Tom a small smile as she rubbed her hands together, the morning very chilly, the fire even more inviting.
Bane wanted to reach out and touch Jane, his hands felt compelled to greet her with more than words.
He got stuck between fight and flight.
Bane became frozen.
Jane flicked her eyes to Bane's, meeting them for a fraction of a second before her eyes found the boiling water and the coffee grounds turning the water dark.
Tom knew it was time for him to exit and began to quietly toddle away.
"Wait," Jane called to Tom's retreating back.
Bane watched with keen interest as Jane walked over to Tom, speaking to him lowly for a few minutes.
Bane wanted to stomp over and demand to know every word that she had spoken.
Jane was merely asking Tom to gather some medical supplies so she could properly remove Bane's modified chest tube.
Jane looked back at Bane before dropping her voice lower, asking Tom to procure her something else, something specific, something just for her.
Tom also looked over briefly at Bane before bringing his full attention back to Jane.
"As you wish," Tom murmured as he lifted his hat.
Jane gave him a small smile and wave as she watched Tom scuttle off, many to-do lists swirling in the front of his mind.
"What were you talking to him about?" Bane asked when Jane returned to the fire.
"Am I allowed to speak to your pet bird?"
Bane stared at her, considering. He remained wordless as he poured her a cup of coffee, the grounds strained through a bent metal sieve, passing her the mug with the chipped rim.
"Of course you may," he said, relieved when she accepted the steaming cup from him as he continued. "I still want to know what you spoke to him about."
Jane smiled as she took a sip of the scalding brew, bitter without any packets of sweetener. "I need some supplies to remove that straw from your side, nothing scandalous," she added before she took another sip.
Bane was pleased that Jane remained by the fire and drank cup after cup of the bitter brew as his first wave of disciples went out to disperse themselves amidst the masses in the heart of Gotham City.
His parishioners spread out like a biblical plague, the forgotten men would soon descend upon Gotham City, fishers of men's hearts, souls, and spleens, if time allowed.